Damn. He let out a silent curse, berating himself for not being more careful. He was not the Angel of Music, and he wasn't her dead father; he was a voice inside her head, her own creation; he had to remember that. "Of course," he said smoothly, tone dismissive.
Luckily, Bran had prepared for his own request to be turned back on him. It was slightly cruel of him, but he thought it was appropriate - and Lotte had probably thought so too at some point. "'Home', from the Broadway version of Beauty and the Beast. Start whenever you like." It was a bit of a gamble, expecting her to know it, but he had a feeling he was right on this one.