I've gotten several requests for Bing/Jane New York fluff, and one for karaoke, so I've combined them.
Jane finds comfort in looking for the best in people. It's like finding a pocket of fresh air in a crowded room, or a corner of sunlight on a gray day. But she's never shied away from accepting harsh truths—provided, of course, there are no plausible alternative explanations—and it looks like this is one of them: Bing is a terrible singer.
The two of them are still finding their way around New York, and their way around each other. It's an opportunity to improve at both when Jane's coworkers invite them to karaoke in the East Village.
Bing is the first of their group to volunteer. He finishes to cheers and wild applause. If Lizzie were here, she would say it's because everyone loves Journey no matter what (and that alcohol is a wonderful improver of spirits), but Jane feels differently. Bing makes up for his lack of technical skill in earnestness and enthusiasm, and she loves him for that.
It's nice here, Jane realizes somewhat belatedly. She doesn't really sing, but she's having fun. Their group is cheerful and noisy. Bing is warm and pleasantly crammed next to her in this tiny booth. Maybe they are still strangers in New York, but it seems more like a promise than a misfortune. There is so much potential brimming here, so much hope for what this city and their future could hold.
Jane grabs Bing's hand. She still isn't comfortable with public displays of affection—and that's fine, she knows it's perfectly all right—but if Bing can pour his heart into a song, so can she.
"How do you feel about duets, Bing?"