John listened, and for a moment forgot that he was here uninvited. He blinked, realizing he should feel bad about that (probably, but Eric didn't seem too upset just yet. And the bird hadn't attacked him.
At being greeted he moved to the doorway. There was a com to speak into the recording area, but that seemed rather impersonal. Letting the door swing open he leaned against the frame, arms crossed loosely over his front as he nodded in greeting.
"Sorry. Door was open and I heard tunes," he said, voice slightly muted by his heavy Southern accent. He half grinned and nodded towards the guitar. "Lured in by the siren, I suppose. She's a beauty."