Her smile made him happier until she spoke. "I see..." he replied sadly. "...Well, it is polite to introduce oneself. And I would like to know the name of this fine young pianist." He made an attempt to cheer her up, pulling his hands away as she turned around. "And...if you would like someone to talk to, I would like to listen." He spoke so mature and intelligent, placing a single hand on her shoulder. He took note of the abrupt stop in her information and assumed it to be emotional. He loved to comfort people and he loved to listen. Quietly making his way over, he sat on the bench beside her, the leather coat stretching as he sat. A small scent could be picked up of a fragrant, but light cologne. Still with that kind smile, he lowered his head to face his hands and began to leisurely unbutton and remove his gloves. Finger by finger, he pulled them off, revealing something unusual. His right hand was littered with the most horrid of scars laced up and down, distorting the color and texture of his flesh. And the left...his left hand was bare. A mere skeleton was his left hand, but this skeleton was metal. Small pieces, from gears to parts, formed a mechanical structure that was his hand. Setting his gloves in his lap, his fingers now grazed the keys of the instrument. It was amazing...such intricacy. The two unfathomable hands then began to play the piano so delicately, and with such precision. At that moment, his eyes closed beneath his reflective glasses, which shielded them from vision. A slight flush of pink covered his cheeks as well, realizing there was another with him as he played.
