"Wolfgang!" Euterpe cried in delight when he'd finished, overwhelmed by it all. "You're so- It's just-" But she had no words to praise him with, nothing that could compare. She wasn't Calliope or Clio. Hers wasn't the realm of words.
Instead she did what she promised she wouldn't do. She leaned across the seat to Wolfgang and kissed him deeply, passionately. She was Song itself and she belonged to him.