"What?" The Balladeer sits back a little, frowning. Is that what she really thinks? He's not some kind of freakish musical CIA. "No! Well..."
That's not completely true. He trails off, looking a little guilty, and sets down his cup. Curse aside, his explanations haven't really been the best; he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and thinks for a moment before he speaks. "Okay. It's like this. Say there's a radio playing quietly in that room." He waves a hand towards the nearest shut door. By now, he's assuming Greta's encountered a radio. "You can hear it, and maybe get a general idea of the tune, but you'd have to actually stop and focus to hear how it really goes. But you know...you're doing things, we're having a conversation. So you tune it out."
"I can tell you have a song, and it sounds - " Here he hesitates, giving a little half-shrug. Ordinary is both exactly what he means, and not right at all. " - well, no two are the same, but it's not anything I'd worry about. And I haven't listened to it."
His tone is earnest. That's the important part, to him. On some basic level, he's always listening, but he hasn't been going about prying into his friend's pasts.
"Now, Johnny." The Balladeer shifts, shoulders hunching a little, and picks up the tea again. Not to drink, just to hold. "That was like if the radio was just playing an air raid siren - or screaming," he hastens to add, as he realizes Greta probably hasn't heard those. Neither is a particularly accurate representation, but he thinks the point is clear. "He just walked past me, but I'd have to be deaf not to have noticed that."
no subject
That's not completely true. He trails off, looking a little guilty, and sets down his cup. Curse aside, his explanations haven't really been the best; he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and thinks for a moment before he speaks. "Okay. It's like this. Say there's a radio playing quietly in that room." He waves a hand towards the nearest shut door. By now, he's assuming Greta's encountered a radio. "You can hear it, and maybe get a general idea of the tune, but you'd have to actually stop and focus to hear how it really goes. But you know...you're doing things, we're having a conversation. So you tune it out."
"I can tell you have a song, and it sounds - " Here he hesitates, giving a little half-shrug. Ordinary is both exactly what he means, and not right at all. " - well, no two are the same, but it's not anything I'd worry about. And I haven't listened to it."
His tone is earnest. That's the important part, to him. On some basic level, he's always listening, but he hasn't been going about prying into his friend's pasts.
"Now, Johnny." The Balladeer shifts, shoulders hunching a little, and picks up the tea again. Not to drink, just to hold. "That was like if the radio was just playing an air raid siren - or screaming," he hastens to add, as he realizes Greta probably hasn't heard those. Neither is a particularly accurate representation, but he thinks the point is clear. "He just walked past me, but I'd have to be deaf not to have noticed that."