"Let's play a game... a game of murder."
A young blossoming composer, Markel didn't know what to do when he was cordially invited to the last concert of a retiring pianist. But when the concert's true motive is revealed, Markel is sucked into a vort...
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C, F, A, C, B, D, F, B, F, A, C, F, G, B, D, G, ACEA.
What.
On.
Earth.
Is.
This.
This sounds... wrong. Anticlimactic, even. Light's section is supposed to be innocent, but why the sudden deep-wisdom aura I'm currently getting?
The screen door to the apartment opened somewhere in the distance, but Markel didn't hear it. Nor did he hear the sound of two people sliding their shoes off, engaged in heavy banter.
Markel was so engrossed in his thoughts that Xavier had to slap him a grand total of six times before his cornflower eyes focused on him.
'What?' Irritable, as always, the younger man snapped at the older one, who smirked and angled his head towards the door.
'I'd like you to meet my girlfriend-'
'Sicily O'Connor. Isn't she from our composition Masterclass?' Despite his overall tone of disinterest, Markel thought that the woman looked familiar... but from where would he recognise her?
'Yes, actually,' the lanky, pale woman spoke from beside the doorway. 'But I go by Joy.'
'I'm going to call you Sicily.'
'No, I just said-'
'I'm not your friend. Therefore, I will be as formal as I want.' Markel's interruption of the orange-head's sentence left her with wide jade eyes that immediately went to Xavier, who shrugged and smiled helplessly.
'This is the way our Class Mystery is, Joy. I'm sorry,' Xavier spreadt his arms out, apologetic, but Sicily just brushed it off like it was nothing, instead glancing at Markel's now-turned back with renewed interest.
'He's really antisocial, huh?'
'Sort of. There's a few topics he's rather... passionate about.'
'What are they?'
Listening to Sicily and Xavier whisper to each other about him from across the dinner table amused the shaggy-haired composer to no end, though regardless he found the entire affair rather annoying.
'Well, he likes math, philosophy-'
'But definitely not two people gossiping to each other about the third person at the table,' Markel remarked, looking pointedly at the two with eyebrows raised in mild vexation.
There was an awkward silence as the couple glanced apologetically his way. Then they resumed their chatter as Markel excused himself from the table.
Xavier's orange-headed girlfriend willingly sought out Markel's company around 20:00, when the reclusive composer typically sat in the private practice room, notebook open beside the Rhapsody and his pen at the ready.
