“Sorry,” he mutters, not entirely sure what he’s apologizing for but certain it’s warranted nonetheless. “”Guess I’m just...I haven’t really played with people before.”

And doesn’t that sound ten types of pathetic. He slouches toward one of the closets instead - doesn’t focus on any particular instrument, and lets the mansion choose it for him. It delivers a guitar. Uninventive, but he’ll take it.

“And I dunno any, uh...I dunno. What kinda songs do you, uh, like playing?”