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[howtheyshine]

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[greatoldjohn]

Same here.

The ukelele might be a better option since you just have to keep fingers. Lungs are more complicated.

[howtheyshine]

But I can. I can do it.

[greatoldjohn]

[ A blink. ]

Of course you can. But it'll be harder for you to learn something new while you're doing it.

It's a 'better' option, but you can choose whichever you like.

[howtheyshine]

[He's not sure what to do with his sudden restless need to prove he can manage even if he has to learn how to breathe while learning everything else at the same time. He can do it. That's the important thing.

Quieter:]

I can do it. It goes with violin better.

[greatoldjohn]

Okay. Then we can do that.

[ Walking alooooong. ]

Are there songs you want to learn to play?

[howtheyshine]

[He can tell John is in motion, so he leaves his communicator on his workbench and lets himself out of his cabin to join his brother in the hall before he answers.]

There's lots that I like but I don't know if there are versions specifically for violin and piccolo. It seems... more likely than violin and ukelele.

[Excuse him as he attempts to climb John's leg on his way to his brother's lofty shoulder.]

[greatoldjohn]

[ A tentacle will make a little stairway up to his shoulder. Nice and easy. ]

I have some sheet music. If there's a song you like, we can figure out a violin and piccolo version for it.

[howtheyshine]

As soon as he's in reach of John's face, Edwin presses himself against his brother's cheek and neck, his 'fur' soft as down thanks to practice but still cool to the touch.

"M..." He stops, remembers the promise he made himself about Arthur, and changes what he was going to say. "Maybe next time there's a... talent show or... something like that, like at Christmas, we can play something."

[greatoldjohn]

It will earn him a little scritch behind the ears and a nuzzle in return, fond warmth flowing from him to Edwin.

"I'd like that. Or we could do a performance for everyone just because we want to."

[howtheyshine]

Well there's an unconsidered prospect.

"Just because we want to?"

[greatoldjohn]

"Set up a communicator and play a performance for everyone. Why not?"

People post all kinds of bullshit. Why not post something nice that people could enjoy?

[howtheyshine]

A long pause. "I never thought about doing something just because I want to."

Sure, he's done things because he wanted to, but it was never really planned or on purpose.

[greatoldjohn]

Blink.

"Why not?"

[howtheyshine]

"Because..." Why, indeed. "I don't know. I just never did. It wasn't... important."

[greatoldjohn]

"Why not? What's more important?"

[howtheyshine]

Unfortunately, that's easier to answer.

"Knowing things. Knowing what I have to say if someone asks me something."

[greatoldjohn]

"...but isn't knowing things something you want?"

[howtheyshine]

"Well, yes. But it's a different kind of wanting than doing something just because I want to."

A pause as he wraps his tail around John's neck lightly to keep his balance as they climb the stairs. "It's... wanting to know things to be safe."

[greatoldjohn]

John will lift a hand to steady him regardless, and keep petting him fondly.

"Why does knowing things make you more safe?"

[howtheyshine]

That gets a baffled pause, his words equally confused.

"Because if you know the right things to say people won't hurt you."

[greatoldjohn]

Shit. Fuck. Christ.

"Where did you learn that?" That's a good path to take. At least, he hope so.

He's going to keep petting him and sending love and warmth and affection so that Edwin doesn't think that he said the wrong thing to him.

[howtheyshine]

He leans into the petting peaceably, oblivious to John's upset. He's still profoundly confused, though.

"I don't understand how to answer that." It's just a thing he knows.

[greatoldjohn]

"Well," he says very gently, his hand still soft and petting, "where did the idea come from? Do you know?"

[howtheyshine]

Another pause as they get to the deck and Edwin takes a moment to simply enjoy being with his brother, enjoy the view and that they're sharing it. He tries to send that back to John, hopes that he can feel it even if this body can't project the way John's can.

Then, contemplation, while he shifts to perch his chin against John's fingers. Under there please. "Not really. It's just... true. When you say the wrong things, people get angry, and when people get angry, they'll hurt you. When you don't know what they're saying, what they want you to say back. Not everyone all the time, but everybody sometimes. And you don't know if they're going to be in a mood to get angry until you talk to them, so you have to be ready."

[greatoldjohn]

Under chin is being scritched. And he's going to nuzzle his little fuzzy cheek with his nose while he does it, drinking in the view and the happiness and sending back appreciation and joy. He loves you, little brother. So very much.

His voice is syrupy and warm as he asks the question he asks.

"So is making people angry what makes something the 'wrong' thing?" A nuzzle. "I don't think I've ever got angry because you said the wrong thing. Am I different?"