Hannibal visited the Opera House daily to keep up on his practice. He had promised Erik as much, and would not be one to break a thing like that. There were days that he had to come in a bit later than others, but he made sure to spend at least forty five minutes at the keys, either rehearsing the piece he was to play next or composing his own. Occasionally, he would find sheet music that he knew had been left for him and play that.
He made his way to the room where the piano he liked to practice on most was kept for him. His eyes were down on the paper he was holding, but his senses were immediately alerted to another body in the room. The smell, the sound, the light breath, all spoke of somebody female, and when he looked up, it was confirmed. His eyes traced over her briefly before returning to the current heavy handed, jagged handwriting spread over the bars pre-printed on the sheets. She was a dancer. He would have known that even without River in his life. Even without the aid of the clothing she was wearing. The way she held her body was the way that a dancer would.
"Don't let me interrupt." His stride to the bench was steady. "If you'd like, I can play for you so that you don't have to practice in silence, or with anything prerecorded. I can't promise it's going to be the piece you were looking for."
He didn't pause to wait to hear her answer. He was busy committing the notes to memory, studying each one, hearing it in his head. Translating it to his fingers. He set them upon the note stand on the ridge of the keyboard, clasping them in the clip attached, and sat.
His eyes lifted, and he found his place with his hands, then turned his gaze upon the woman. Inquiring silently as to her answer.