( once the drifts of the piano begin to score sweetly throughout the kitchen, a perfect accompaniment to tea and moonlight, she's sinking smiling teeth into her lips. careful, limbs carry her back over toward him with a mug in each hand, wisps of steam curling about their surfaces. it's a blueberry green, something subtle, soft enough to compliment the mood that's been placed over their evening. )

It's beautiful. ( chords begin to synchronize, notes tumbling faster and yet never once losing their effortless laze. it's tempting to close her eyes, let him hold her against his chest, and just listen. it wasn't often enough that she let herself in to such mindful medicine, though she has a feeling the more time she spends with him, the more habitual, the more normal it will become.

cradling her own mug she hums happily, lids drifting shut a moment leaning lower back to the island counter just beside him. )

Something tells me you're well able to play something just as lovely, Baby. You're here for me to quiet those doubts, remember? ( kisses and all, she'd promised. )