My, either this man was used to such comments (perhaps his own world wasn't as peaceful as Reverein) or he thought Alastor was joking. No matter which it was, Alastor was actually rather glad for it. Music and dance were his first loves, and his love for the radio had spawned from them: With a radio, one could access an unlimited amount of music in a dizzying array of styles at the turn of a dial. It wasn't often nowadays he got to discuss it while listening to it, much less perform it.
"Really? Well, now I'm even more curious!" He gestured to the orchestra. "This sort of music wasn't what was popular where I lived. It was more for the upper class: fancy parties like this or grand concerts, not the jazz clubs that the rest of us favored." He tilted his head to one side, a faint flicker of a radio switching channels accompanying the movement. "Do you play? Perhaps we can find another instrument left abandoned while its owner indulges at the bar. I'd love to hear an example since I doubt I have anything like it stored up here."
He tapped the side of his head. He could project music like a radio but without radio waves to scan through and find other music, he was limited to his own mental catalogue. Not that it wasn't an extensive catalogue to begin with: His own internal receiver never shut off, and new music was always playing on the radio waves of Hell even without his direct control...which meant there was quite a bit of utter garbage music stored in his head in addition to his favorites.
no subject
"Really? Well, now I'm even more curious!" He gestured to the orchestra. "This sort of music wasn't what was popular where I lived. It was more for the upper class: fancy parties like this or grand concerts, not the jazz clubs that the rest of us favored." He tilted his head to one side, a faint flicker of a radio switching channels accompanying the movement. "Do you play? Perhaps we can find another instrument left abandoned while its owner indulges at the bar. I'd love to hear an example since I doubt I have anything like it stored up here."
He tapped the side of his head. He could project music like a radio but without radio waves to scan through and find other music, he was limited to his own mental catalogue. Not that it wasn't an extensive catalogue to begin with: His own internal receiver never shut off, and new music was always playing on the radio waves of Hell even without his direct control...which meant there was quite a bit of utter garbage music stored in his head in addition to his favorites.