Sitting at the piano, Hannibal listened to the sounds around him with his eyes closed. The patrons sitting in the rows, anticipating the music they were about to hear. Each of them just as excited to brag about the special invite as they were about the music. For most of them, the night could have ended with the dinner and they would have been satisfied to have just that to hold over the heads of everyone in the regulars pool. There were a couple, though, that were in it genuinely and took the rights of bragging as an added garnish.
Hannibal knew when Erik arrived, and marked the movement of his elder to the other side of the stage. He could hear their breathing, the beating of their hearts. It was them that he was truly playing for this evening, the others were here just to see what would happen, really. Hannibal was curious, and he knew that the Elder was just as - if not moreso. Curiosity seemed to be a stronger trait in his counterpart. There were many things he was that Hannibal strove to be.
He felt the lights dim, the darkness granting a cool touch where there had been heat before. Hannibal opened his eyes and looked at the page before him. He knew the notes by heart already, having the folio in front of him was aesthetic more than anything. He wanted to see Erik's hand in all of this as he played. He wanted to smell the ink. This was as much an experience for him as it was for everybody else, and Hannibal wanted full immersion.
His back was straight as if he was bound to a plank of wood, and his fingers rested on the keys. He'd had his favorite piano moved onto the stage. A recreation of the Alma-Tadema Steinway. Hannibal knew it was not the real thing, but a City-made replica. It still played just as fine as the original, perhaps better due to its lack of age. This was not an instrument that Hannibal had used before in performance, but this piece demanded something of beauty, and so he had it hauled up from his private practice space below.
Hannibal waited until all the voices in the audience were hushed before he began. He did not introduce himself or the work before him, he would not mar the moment with any earthly voice. The composition would speak for itself, he fully believed this.