[ Acumen had told him there was a music room with a piano here. He apparently couldn't get his own for two whole days and so he'd begrudgingly make do with whatever crap was supplied to him.
Except it's occupied. Great. This is why he needs his own, he can't just-- whatever. Maybe he can scare its occupant away by being his cranky old self. ]
Ever heard of technique? It's this crazy new thing that means you don't sound like crap.