What does she stand to gain out of this? Encouraging him to be something he stopped allowing himself the delusion of imagining he could be, a long time ago? He abandons all pretense of musing over it quietly, fixing her with a direct, wrinkled-brow stare.

“Why’s it matter to you?” The music, the fact that he knows it, that he’s only just allowed himself to dip back into an interest he loves?