Worry crosses her face as he glances at the door- and her hands come to a stop, the lazy strumming ending with a drawn out chord.

"...Anything you want I guess? French horn allowed."

She gives him a smile that's between encouraging and apologetic.

"...You know this is optional, right? I'm not locking you in this room until you play Chopsticks or anything."

She punctuates that with a shrug.