"Of course, honey," Jenny agreed, pulling her guitar in front of her. She strummed out the harmony line, a lower counterpoint to Euterpe's melody. She might not be able to put on a show quite like her older brother, but she had a damn good voice, and she knew that.
It was almost like weaving magic through music, and Jenny knew that even if she lived hundreds of years, she would never, ever get tired of doing this.