He was showing off, but there was a brilliance that Mozart possessed that one in few ever did. He had accomplished a lot in his short life, something most men would always just admire. Greatness like his only came around few times. Maybe he and some of his 'greats' were conditioned to be what they were from an early age, but there was one thing that could never be reproduced---heart. As lewd, wild and crazy some of his work had been, Wolfgang was always exuberant and full of life. He engrossed himself into his work.
It was a little over ten minutes before he'd played through his mini-concert, a grin twinkling on the end of his lips with a laugh as the finale.