Dione had her own story to tell of the harpies that went along with the quite straight scar slowly fading on the right side of her face. Her hands showed little damage left from the glass, but the scar was taking its time in going away. Dione herself tended to forget about it until someone brought it up again. She washed her face in the morning, ran her fingers along it, and then proceeded to simply ignore the thing. It wasn't as if getting upset about it every day was going to change anything. So she didn't get upset about it. Pragmatism at its finest.

Moving metal got her attention, if only in the form of a tilted head and raised eyebrows. Dione didn't even consider the idea of arming herself since it was quite likely she could hurt herself as much as she did anyone else. One misplaced swing and there goes a finger, or a hand, or god forbid something else important.

Dione had almost forgotten about pets entirely. She and Dex had never been allowed to have one and when the world ended, she was more worried about herself than any other animal on the planet. She probably could have picked up a dog and it might even have been useful to her. It just hadn't been something she was worried about. But all animals had that way of making themselves known and Sweeney putting her head in Dione's lap certainly made herself known. That made the woman stop and do what most people did when faced with an animal: she petted the dog. "Good morning," it wasn't terribly peculiar to think that Dione would speak to an animal. To most people, it seemed she talked to walls, empty chairs, and open spaces, so why not to a dog?

Those who thought that didn't know that Dex was there with her holding a conversation or didn't believe. Either way, they just couldn't fathom that she wasn't very much alone.

"I did play for the Symphony. I play here almost every day now. It makes sense for me." It was one of the few things that consistently made sense. Not to mention helping her keep away from the world is out to get me theory that made her want to curl into a ball and hide like her brother all too often seemed to suggest was good for the both of them. "Was there something in particular you wanted to hear? I know the song you were playing earlier."

Playing with other people was fairly normal. Pianist got to be soloists often, but playing alongside someone else was also a familiar occurrence.