[He's not too immersed in the music, not in the way musicians are but his attention is focused on the keys. He stumbles occasionally, playing off a wrong note with a make up of others, only once or twice ever really stalling and repeating. He's aware someone slipped in but he's preoccupied with finishing what his fingers are doing, flicking a glance up through the corners of his eyes and the veil of his bangs as his head is bowed.
Pink, at first he thinks of someone else. But then he sees the differences.] Evening, Miss Euphie.
[He continues to play, but his hands make up the tune all together.]