Liam had been knocked out of the mission earlier than he would have liked, and he was feeling the edge of an episode coming on. He knew that if he got control of it early and didn't interact with anyone he found annoying (see: mostly everyone) he would probably be okay, but it still set his teeth on edge. He'd gone down to the student centre after getting off the boat, to see a couple friends he'd agreed to meet, and he was just about to head to the pub for a well-deserved drink or five when he heard the music.
It was unlike anything he'd ever heard. Almost like something between a violin and a voice... a strange, eerie voice, with an edge of almost mechanical control. Liam's taste in music was not exactly what people might expect on meeting him; he had little patience for anything considered 'popular' after 1900. He had been forced into choir at school but had grown to love the sound, the discipline of voices changing in time and tone together. He listened to Bach, to Howells, to Brahms, Vaughan Williams, Britten and Byrd. His father would have called him a pussy. He couldn't have cared less.
He looked around for the source of the sound, and saw Des sitting with her instrument, brows slightly narrowed in concentration. Slowly he went and sat nearby, watching in fascination as her hands moved, trying to figure out how the different gestures created changes in tone and intensity. He felt a strange sort of regret when it was all over.
"That was brilliant," he said quietly, his English accent coming out quite thickly now that he was in the right mindset. "How do you do it, is it science or magic?" This was a legitimate question given the activities people got up to on the island, and he was intrigued.