The pianist in the suit with the long fingers and the tilted hat is staring intently at the tall figure leaning against the wall as he plays, trying to guess the thoughts and the feelings of this total stranger and supposing that he is failing miserably. The pub smells of cigar smoke, and it is far too warm. The pianist would like very little more than to be gone from here.
He rolls out a chord a little too abruptly, and he can see the amusement in the stranger's demeanor, something of a derisive laugh, a quick shrug of the shoulders after a straightening of the spine. He slips a chromatic scale into a bridge, and he gains a short half-skip of amusement. He finishes his piece with great aplomb, and he cares only for the laconic applause from the one who is now leaving the pub.
Skulduggery is leaving now too, for his curiosity has been caught, and he will not be satisfied until he has found again this individual and possibly asked them out for a meal of some sort, at least get their number.
He doesn't have far to search. The Nye is waiting outside the door.
A/N: Random ship is random.
~Mademise Morte