He wanted to look at her, but he didn't want her to look at him. She didn't like the bodies, that much was obvious, and he found himself strangely unable to begrudge her this one small thing. All he did was blink as he circled around the trees, keeping just out of her line of vision as he approached the piano - and her - from behind, and one by one the bodies were shrouded from sight.
"Is that better?" He lingered somewhere behind her, hoping that she said yes. If so, perhaps she might sing again.
Behind the mask he frowned, disliking her answer. "He left you." The words rolled off his tongue disdainfully. Foolish girl, walking on the glass like that. "Everyone leaves eventually. Even you." Oh, he knew she would as well, to be with... with someone else. She would run, because she was afraid and didn't even want to look at him. "When you sing, who is it that you sing for?" Bran knew what response he wanted, although he wasn't sure why.