[ It feels special, to have someone he can confide in, to share in a secret. The sentiment stitches neatly with the way Wrio seamlessly plays along, performing a curtsy almost comically dainty for his handsome, rugged frame.
But what surprises him is the tune he carries, pure and arresting. Music has ever been something that both attracts and foments change in the puppet, ever since the first time he slotted a record in the hotel's player. He can carry a tune, he supposes, but the one time he tried to sing, Gemini had hesitated around what seemed glaringly obvious to the both of them: something is missing. He's grown and changed since, but...
He supposes he was always better at expressing himself behind a piano's ivories and ebonies. Not like Wrio, not like this, where at first he freezes, transfixed by the sound, stunned to hear it until he remembers he is supposed to dance and searches for the beat.
One step, then another, and a third, feeling out the differences between the waltz he's been taught and, possibly, Wrio's own expectations. A pivot in place, only to start again. Feeling out the motions, the way the puzzle that is them fits to the tune that warbles in Wrio's throat. ]
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[ It feels special, to have someone he can confide in, to share in a secret. The sentiment stitches neatly with the way Wrio seamlessly plays along, performing a curtsy almost comically dainty for his handsome, rugged frame.
But what surprises him is the tune he carries, pure and arresting. Music has ever been something that both attracts and foments change in the puppet, ever since the first time he slotted a record in the hotel's player. He can carry a tune, he supposes, but the one time he tried to sing, Gemini had hesitated around what seemed glaringly obvious to the both of them: something is missing. He's grown and changed since, but...
He supposes he was always better at expressing himself behind a piano's ivories and ebonies. Not like Wrio, not like this, where at first he freezes, transfixed by the sound, stunned to hear it until he remembers he is supposed to dance and searches for the beat.
One step, then another, and a third, feeling out the differences between the waltz he's been taught and, possibly, Wrio's own expectations. A pivot in place, only to start again. Feeling out the motions, the way the puzzle that is them fits to the tune that warbles in Wrio's throat. ]