#scncta

Oh? Well, at least she wasn’t in the middle of a piece when he arrived. Though it had been some time since she’d seen this face, it was a… What was the word? Relieving? Oh, that’s not it. Perhaps it was just…nice? That didn’t sound right, either. Maybe it–

“Ah, Mr. Whirlinda,” she acknowledged, swiveling in her seat to face the other, “I should say the same; a familiar face is always a lovely sight.”

“– How have you two been doing, if I may ask?”

IT ʜᴀᴅ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴅᴀᴡɴᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜɪᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪɴᴛʀᴜᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs ᴡʜᴇɴ sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ᴘɪᴠᴏᴛᴇᴅ sʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ ᴜᴘᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴘɪᴀɴᴏ sᴛᴏᴏʟ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴅᴅʀᴇss ʜɪᴍ--ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, ʜᴇ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ sᴛᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ sᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏʀᴍ ᴏғ ᴀ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴ.

❝Ah--the Missus and I have been . . . faring well.❞ He contemplated his course of action carefully in that pause; despite the fact that Melody was a ghost like themselves--humanesque--now was a rather tense era in which even the closet of acquaintances could turn on a dime. ❝A--And yourself?❞--their [the Whirlindas’] separation crept up silently and pounced immediately; his chest began to glow--❝--it has been quite some time since we've last heard your . . . music.