Sometimes when Steve is lucky, he walks into moments like these.
The notes flit in the air—little wisps of secret messages interlocked between oxygen molecules—and when Steve breathes, he tastes the music on his tongue; feels quiet emotion fill his nostrils and travel into expanding lungs. Every breath feels like beauty, and every noise feels like soft kisses 'hello'.
It's a silent thing as he moves from the entrance and further in, not wanting to disrupt the flow of sound around him with his footsteps. His fingers curl loosely around a manila folder meant for poring and a flurry of signatures, but instead of approaching, he stops in the doorway of Max's office and tries not to smile.
"He's a tactile thinker," the governor said, the first day they met.
And Steve wishes he could afford to be so tranquil.
Max's fingers flow over the keys with a natural ease Steve almost envies, his hands playing the piece and bringing sticks and circles into life and breath. Steve doesn't have to look to see his eyes are closed—right now, nothing exists but the music. And he's alright with that.
The song ends eventually, though, and the notes remain in the air for a split-second before finally collapsing around them and dropping to the floor. Max's wrists relax, his posture slouching, and it's a few more moments before finally he notices Steve's been waiting for him. He opens his mouth, the beginning of an apology forming on his tongue, but Steve holds up his free hand in response—it's alright. Max pushes his glasses up his nose and frowns. Steve waves it away.
Max's gaze falls to the manila folder, and he's about to get off the piano bench when Steve takes a few strides forward and sits beside him, instead. The folder finds a home atop the piano, and Steve presses into a key that has the G-note echoing in the room.
He glances at Max, corner of his lips tilting into a question. Max's eyes widen in surprise, but then he gives a pleased smile of his own.
By the end of the day, Steve has Max's signature and Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star on his fingers.
And when he leaves, the music whispers 'goodbye', giving him enough strength to finish his paperwork for the day.