At the woman's motion of applause, Flint ducked his head shyly. Yet in a few seconds he looked back up at her and mouthed 'thanks,' the left corner of his mouth twitching into a bigger smile just in case she didn't understand.
He began another song, another off-the-cuff transition. I'm Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover. Playing with the rhythm a little with his left hand, just on the edge of being stride piano, the words of the song bounced around his head. The repetitive lyrics lent themselves to a sing-along but Flint still didn't feel comfortable with the microphone that he'd switched off and pushed away before sitting down at the piano. Instead, he made sure the melody was strong enough to support the bass.
Halfway through the song, though, his lips started to unconsciously move silently. He was steps away from actually singing and when he caught himself, Flint shook his head ruefully, glancing up to see if his closest listener had seen his foolishness. As introverted as he was, as stoic, Flint was always glad to see someone who appreciated music.
When he looked up, he could see the staffer with the clipboard moving back towards him. She was certainly making sure the party ran smoothly. As she approached the piano, she motioned to Flint to stop playing. The song was almost over so he wrapped it up with a flourish and looked up. "You should take a break, Mr. Flint, at least ten or fifteen minutes," the overeager young woman told him as she passed by, probably on her way to something else on the schedule.
Flint took the suggestion as an order. Massaging the knuckles of one hand then the other, he looked over at the woman in the flapper dress who'd leaned against the piano. Now that he wasn't playing the music, he felt his social anxiety a little stronger but he managed a quiet, "Hello."