Connor let her finger it through with him slowly, and he smiled--she did have talent, and she grabbed it quickly. John was looking at his guitar, a little more painstakingly fingering out some chords and glancing at the drums, tempted to go play on them to help with that and to amuse the toddler.
"All right. Feel free to all a stop, no issue." They were real loose around here, and she wouldn't be the only one in the night who might call a stop or drop out or hit a wrong note--usually laughing as he did it, Connor would admit. These things always gave him a weird kind of music high.
It was, as many duets were, a sort of romance line of back and forth, talking about two lovers trying to reach across a distance between them. It held a sweet note at the end, though, which Connor had prefered to his alternate sadder ending he also had, though in the end it would be a band and record call on which one they went with.
His fingers played the tune he'd constructed himself, but his voice crooned out the words with the proper set of emotions behind them. Not everything he wrote was from direct experience, though some of it definitely was; some of it was from experiences he'd been told about, sometimes by friends, sometimes by family, and even occasionally by a fan.
His eyes mostly stayed on Marla, taking and giving cues with his body and face as they went, occasionally a side glance to John--who fumbled a few chords and just made a face shook hsi head at himself--and Colby, and every now and then he peeked at Emily from the corner of his eye, trying to see what she might think of it.