It was seldom that Philip's "scavenging" of neighbouring apartments ever took him into the upper levels of Pax Letale. There simply was no good reason for it when he did not take things out of some desire for financial gain, but rather the necessity of a full stomach or the simple comfort of feeling fresh and clean. His needs were typically sated by those who had the misfortune of living below the seventh level, always conveniently located on the route to his own abode, and it mattered not to him whether the shirt he procured was store brand or designer. It was also the more logical of the two options. While the upper levels might have housed the more expensive units, suggestive thus of more valuable possessions, it also meant that these items were more distinctive, traceable, and easier to take note of when they went missing. But Philip might also have been deterred by the mere fact that the higher one went, the harder it was and longer it took to make one's escape.
Yet, this knowledge had not kept Philip away from the deluxe suites and penthouses altogether. He had a mind that was perpetually under the thrall of its own inquisitiveness, and his natural bent was toward exploration and investigation. Curiosity brought him to the upper levels, and his interest was only further peaked when he caught the sound of an elusive note, straying from the company of its completed measure. It drew Philip down the hallway, soon joined by fuller chords that sketched out a more distinguishable melody, and he barely noticed as he crossed the threshold of a doorway into the open space of a stranger's apartment. The music was a siren's call, the vibrancy and warmth of the strings played reverberating in the hollow of his chest that made him feel at one with the piece in a fashion that could not be replicated by listening to recordings. When he saw at last its source, the hands that manipulated with ease and grace, gliding over the instrument to evoke such artistry of sound, Philip watched spellbound until the player brought his fingers to a pause.
"You know, when I was in elementary school, they tried to teach all of the kids how to play the recorder. I guess they were trying to instill in us some appreciation of the fine arts, but it didn't exactly work out," Philip spoke without thinking, words leaving his lips in a steady rush as though he believed the silence might be too painful without the music that had previously filled it. "Most just liked to see how loud a noise they could manage, and me, well, I was more interested in pulling them apart and seeing if I couldn't make something new out of all those plastic pieces. But what you did just now, I have to say, it makes me a little bit sorry that I didn't pay more attention back then." His gaze, which had been previously hovered only on the body of the guitar, at last lifted to meet the eyes of the musician.