If it weren't so dark, it would be clear that Athran blushed a little, but in the dusky night, nothing could be seen. He kissed her fleetly on the cheek, then immediately pulled himself back, as if he regretted it (though he really didn't).
"That's wonderful... I would not have expected that." he smiled. His eyes sled from her face to the lute, and at the memory of his mother, he looked down. "My mother died when I was eight. I don't remember much of her. I was raised by my father, who never had time for me... And learned most things alone. Though, we had a bard in the house, and he taught me how to play the harp, and sing."
