Chilled out night? Relax with the old classic "Dancing In The Moonlight" by the French band King Harvest (lyrics by Sherman Kelly), let it keep you company.
Her floated with every step, light of foot as only a moonbeam could be. There were quite a few people following him now, touched by his brightness. He hadn't quite worked out what the light was doing to them, but they seemed peaceful. Happy to be there. Only the glow around their faces and their sheer number said that there was anything unusual going on at all.
Ironic, really.
And She didn't seem to have noticed.
Which was as it always went. Perhaps this time he should increase his efforts.
Halfway down the street he was on there was a plaza. The City Council had agreed to place a piano on it, that passersby could play. Piano was something that Her knew very well. He leapt at a lamp post and swung around it, touching back down lightly next to the old wooden upright. Some of the crowd smiled at him warmly. Others applauded, or nudged each other as if to say "Hey, did you see that?" There was a sense of camaraderie amongst them. Not restless, not charged or tense in the way a mob can form out of nowhere. Just relaxed.
Her could change that, he thought.
He raised the cover and flexed his fingers, then began to stroke notes out of the old worn keys. The notes flowed and tickled through the air, first a few at a time and then pouring out as a rushing stream, a rollicking brook. He lifted his voice and began to sing. An older song, the kind that the radio stations played on nostalgia nights, that never failed to set people's feet itching to move.
He felt as much as heard the crowd begin to spread across the plaza, dancing. The blogger girl and her boyfriend were right there in the middle, smiling at each other. The moon shone down on them all, bathing their impromptu party in bright light.
It was a relaxed, friendly, chilled-out vibe. Strangers line danced or spun with each other, smiling and meeting eyes as if they'd known each other for years. Sometimes people rested, but never alone. There was always someone stopping to rest a hand on a shoulder, give a quiet greeting, share a smile or a laugh. A few people gathered around his piano – always together, never alone – and sang along with him.
The music poured across the plaza, amplified now by the voices of almost half of Her's crowd. The feeling was almost overwhelming – but still joyous. Someone tripped, and someone else caught them laughing. This was the sort of crowd that would never ignite. They'd see the spark, the trigger that should have started the explosion, and they'd invite it to dance with them.
And it would.
He let the notes pour out of his fingers, tilting his head back in an almost sensory pleasure at the feeling.
And from his tilted, almost upside-down position, he caught a glimpse of a face on the roof behind. A familiar face, hidden half by a chimney and half by a mask, watching. Observing.
He smiled.
A/N: And there She is! Finally! Don't kill me, I know this seems slow. But trust me, a LOT has been happening in the background that Adrien/Her doesn't know about. You'll find out about it all next chapter, when a few other people get their chance to sing...