Rictor/Ari | Theatre District | 11:00am
“Why, thank you, sir,” she said with a flutter of her lashes. It seemed he had decided to be comfortable around her again, so she slipped into her usual habits without thought. “I will take that afterthought of a compliment and treasure it forever, I assure.” It was too bad that he couldn’t add to her repertoire, but it was a treasure hunt of sorts every time she visited the sheet music stores. Obscure Kerwonian ballads had become something of a hobby recently. After all, why not play what the intended audience would most appreciate? The music was lovely on its own, too, which helped.
“Hmm? Oh!” As realization dawned, she had to laugh again. She supposed it could look very strange to someone who didn’t know her very well. “I don’t busk much anymore, except on festival days, but it’s a good way to practice a new instrument. The passing people are better judges than I am at this stage of whether what I am trying to do is working – without being as critical as, say, an audience at the Sphere. My mentor made me do it every day,” she recalled with equal parts exasperation and fondness. “Rain or shine or snow – playing strings in snow is a misery! – out he would send me to find a corner, and I was not to return until I had gathered a certain quantity of gil, which was his measure of whether or not I had gotten past my sulkiness and remembered that my job was to be entertaining. As it turned out when I got a bit older, it does wonders for concentration – in battle – and stage fright, too.”