Clive Dove was never a confident man. He often preferred to write in the shadows; stick to small columns of the paper and generally try not to make a big fuss when interviewing someone for his next article. Of course, there was the offchance that they'd flip out over it themselves and even start eagerly searching for some sort of recording device, but when that come it was easy to slip back into the crowds and go unnoticed, for the most part.

Because of this, a career in the arts never even crossed his mind, really. He'd picked up the saxaphone once, but it was an awfully long time ago and he was never very good at it. Another time he'd tried to learn the piano, but shit, how could he ever afford to buy a grand piano?! To end his triage of failure, he started learning the cello about 2 years ago, and was still working on that one. He was sure it would end just about as awfully as his french horn escapade, but there was no point in giving it up now. It was expensive enough to buy as it was.

Still, he had somewhat of a natural vibe for music. He could pick up a beat in seconds, and it was rare not to see him tapping his foot or snapping his fingers to some sort of beat, even if he was just thinking it up. Flora had always noticed this about him; she wondered sometimes if he'd have gone for a career in music if he had more faith in his abilities. A couple times she'd walked in on him playing his cello - completely by accident, of course, as he could never play with someone else in the room. It took him a couple minutes to notice her. In those two minutes, he was playing a very beautiful, rich melody, but it was awfully quiet. He seemed timid and almost afraid of his instrument; it was really such a shame. She'd love to hear him louder. Even if he failed completely, she'd still love it.

There was one thing she'd never, ever heard Clive Dove do, and that was sing. He was perfectly content to hum and sway his hips to a tune, but he kept his lips firmly sealed at all times. She didn't have very much to judge his voice on, but his humming was near enough always in tune, accurate and carried nicely. If his singing was as good as his humming, why, the dark eyed boy could have another charm she hadn't yet discovered.

Flora wasn't really sure how to ask him about it. Pestering or irritating wasn't really in her nature, and if he wasn't comfortable she wouldn't force him, but god, her curiousity was eating away at her! She decided to approach the manner in a formal, polite way; the results it yeilded would determine her next moves.

"Um, Clive?" She squeaked one morning. They were lounging on the sofa together, flipping through literature with her legs neatly draped across his. It wasn't like she was shy; it had taken a while, but she'd opened up to him nicely. No, she was just nervous.

"Yes, love?" His head turned slightly towards her, though his eyes never lifted themselves from his novel. He was clearly engrossed. It would ruin the tranquility of the morning. He'd get uncomfortable, and that was the last thing she wanted. She should probably just-

"Can you sing?" Oh, bugger. She mentally kicked herself; she hadn't meant for that to slip out! Of course, it would have to come up eventually, but... ohh, bugger!

"I don't know. Nobody's ever heard me sing." His response was astoundingly calm, which caught her quite off guard. It was simple and polite, but left no invitation. She took it as one anyway.

"Surely you can judge your voice in comparison to others? Like, famous singers and such?" She shrugged, wondering if she was just going on another of her tangents again.

"Mh." He lifted a single shoulder in response. "Perhaps. The thing is that it's quite unique; I can't really compare it to anyone else I know of."

"Perhaps... I could judge it for you?"

The suggestion was finally enough to drag his eyes away from the novel. He looked at her with a peculiar expression; a small smirk playing on his lips and his eyes glimmering with mischief.

"Flora, are you asking me to sing for you?" It wasn't a particularly unusual question, but the way he almost said it like he was mocking her made her cheeks flush. Her eyes darted back into the pages of her novel, almost hiding from him. "I don't particularly mind. I'm comfortable around you enough to do that, but~ there is one condition!" That explained the mischeif in his gaze.

"W...What is it?" She asked, slightly hesitantly.

"Will you be my accompaniment?" Flora herself was never particularly musical. She could play the violin, sure, but Luke had been teaching her that for nearly 10 years now, and she was barely a grade 8. There was definitely no natural talent there, just a lot of commitment and effort put in. She also had a mild taste for the ukulele, mostly because it wasn't overly difficult. Though, she didn't stray from the basics.

"What kind of accompaniment are you asking for?" She responded, adopting a rather cute look of suspicion.

"Flora, can you harmonize?" The doe-eyed girl nearly burst out laughing at the suggestion. Stifling it with a small giggle, hidden rather demurely behind her hand, she shook her head.

"Definitely not." He arched a brow at this, a subtle sign of interest.

"Why not?" Blunt enough.

"Trust me. I'm horribly out of tune, I can't keep a beat to save my life, I'm rushed and awful and my voice just generally sounds-"

"Stop right there!" He grinned at her. It felt a little Cheshire cat-esque. "Anyone can sing if they try hard enough. I could even teach you, maybe. Providing you think my voice is good."

"Well, for that, I'd have to hear it!" She jested, closing her book entirely and setting it neutrally down on the arm rest. Doing the same, he gently pushed her legs off him and stood, rolling his shoulders and clicking bones accordingly.

"Right then, Miss Reinhold, what should I sing for you today?" He feigned a bow, peeking up at her curious expression and offering a playful wink.

"I... I don't know. My mind's gone blank; what kind of stuff do you like?" She admitted, her blush spreading further.

"You know what I like." He shook his head, but not in an exasperated way; it was all in good humor. A hint of teasing clung to his every word.

"What are you good at? I could just ask you to sing heavy metal, how would you like that!" She fired back.

"Alright, alright," he relented with a chuckle, "I'll have a think. Do you like Snow Patrol?"

"Moderately..." She would admit that she actually liked them very much, but she feared it may encourage his dastardly plot. "Why?"

"To pick a song! Why so skeptical, dear?" He laughed, pondering for a moment, "Set Fire to the Third Bar. It's perfect! Both a female and male lead, and I'll start, if it helps." His laugh subsided gradually, leaving in it's wake a comforting grin. "Shy?"

"A little," She admitted with a tiny nod. "I'd prefer it if you started."

"Very well," He smiled good-naturedly, and took a breath.

His voice was indescribable. His accent tinged husky, soft words, though not enough to take away from it's rich alto. He easily incorporated the sorrow and longing of the song into his beautiful voice (not to mention his perfect pitch and tempo.) It really was lovely, she thought, relaxing as she took in the gentle melody.

Then came her turn to sing.

He continued for the first line or so, expecting her to pick off sooner or later, but when he remained the only voice he halted for a moment. She jumped a little, snapped out of the comforting lull his singing had put her into. Shaking her head, she fixed him with an apologetic smile, shaking her head slightly.

"I'm sorry, I really can't. I'm positively tone deaf!" She protested.

"I can make up for that. I'll work with you on this, okay? A lady always upholds her end of a deal."

"Oh, alright." She grumbled, the comment on her feminity being the final push. She began to almost whisper her words, and stopped as soon as he saw him physically wince. "See, I'm crap!" She wailed, burying her face in a pillow. How embarrassing!

"Perhaps singing isn't your strong suit." He admitted, shaking his head with a helpless shrug. "Does it bother you at all?"

"Not unless I have to do it!" She shot back, her voice muffled by the soft fabric. It was heating up against her fiery blush, and she collapsed onto her side, having completely given up on her humility.

"Well. You have a very pretty speaking voice, at least. I'm sure if we worked on your pitch you'd sound alright!" Clive wasn't quite sure how to reassure her, so he just stuck to genuine, constructive criticism. He sunk down next to her on the sofa, fully prepared to continue reading and forget it ever happened.

"Oh, bugger off!" She huffed, sitting back up and letting the pillow drop. To his surprise, there was a subtle smirk quirking at the corner of her mouth, and her chocolate eyes met his with an air of mischief. "As payback~ you have to sing for me more!" She declared abruptly, snatching the novel from his hands and sitting on it.

"That's not very ladylike." He quipped, already dissolving into affectionate chuckles. Ruffling her chestnut locks, because at this point who cared about formalities, he gently pushed her down into his lap, acutely snatching his novel at the same time in one fell swoop.

Whoever said men couldn't multitask was a complete liar. As his fingers caressed her gold-tinged hair and his eyes absorbed the pages before him, Clive very softly sang to her.

Headcanon:"Flora is tone deaf. She can't carry a tune for the life of her."