OOC: Sorry, I is slow D:
"Thanks," Lee decided against telling Aidan that the reason everything looked so well-placed together was because the decisions had been ultimately made by his mother who had always had an innate sense of how-to-make-shit-look-better, "That's me, yo. Interior designer by day, dance club manager by night." He gave his friend a wry smile and disappeared briefly into the kitchen, only to reappear seconds later with two tall glasses, made for drinking beer because no men's home was complete without a set.
"Slow down there, sparkles. Don't get too excited or you might pull something," Lee looked over at the large percussion instrument. It was a vintage style grand piano, sleek and black. It once belonged to his father's father's father. In other words, it was old, rickety, and probably price-less. Lee's old man spent hours on end hunched over its keys, tapping away at the next masterpiece. It came into Lee's possession when his father finally hit it big with his first successful album a couple of years ago and decided to upgrade. Lee knew how to play, at the insistence of his parents. "Mostly classical, never really got the hang of jazz, all those syncopations and weird counting things-" Lee shrugged, "Nah, maybe the guitar, but yeah. I haven't played anything for so long, especially not this. Sort of just gathering dust before I cleaned it for the house upheaval."
"You play something right? You look like a musician," Lee squinted a little, and smile, "Definitely, right?"