Re: log: dietre a. & daniel w.
Something in the way Daniel spoke of his cat struck Dietre as amusing, his expression lightening almost into a smile. "Hm... I would think a beautiful woman would have no need to be jealous. Instead, they inspire jealousy in others, don't they?" He liked this sort of subtle humor, it was easy to go along with.
'Sieglinde' seemed like a weighty mouthful when compared to 'Mimi'. He gave an impressed nod to Daniel's perfect pronunciation. Dietre had lived long enough in the states that if he were anyone else, his accent would have faded long ago. His life of isolation kept it fresh, and there was a time not so long ago where his voice got even less use than usual. He had damaged his vocal cords during his clumsy suicide attempt, and even now all these months later his voice still wasn't what it used to be.
"Yes, I know... I know." There was no impatience or irritation in his tone, only a melancholy resignation. He was doomed to confusion, a fact made clear to him by several people. Daniel wasn't the first to try and warn him.
"Well," he said after drinking down much of his wine. "I suppose I should play something?" Dietre rose from his stool and Daniel was given a brief, apprehensive look. The keyboard was set up beside the man, Dietre would have to join him on the little couch to play it, or run the risk of rudely dragging the instrument and over to himself. Out of fear of offended his guest, he swallowed his discomfort over his diminished personal space and settled onto the couch, perched at the edge of the seat.
Keeping his eyes downward, the keyboard was turned on. His fingers hovered over the keys for a moment, and then they descended, filling the little house with a swift, dark melody. Hurried high notes over low, ominous tones, Dietre's fingers dancing, his expression grave. The piece was short, just a taste, and when it was over the boy sat in nervous, expectant silence.
[ooc note: Lets just pretend Dietre wrote that, or something similar, lol.]