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"Sadly, I've run all out of the sheet music that I keep on my person connoting to Crazy Train..."

He took a seat from the table and sat it next to the piano stool.

"But perhaps you can just play me something you know? COme to think of it, I don't get to hear you play very often."

"Can I argue?"

After a strange empty pause.

"...No, I don't mind."

Enra smiled, watching and listening intently. It was fun to watch someone play a piano, it gave you a sort of twitch in your fingers, as if you could play along with him or her... He could, if he wanted to, although to do so would've been impeccably rude.

He liked music like this. It wasn't music that you used to drown out the rest of the world in your earphones or to distract yourself from how boring your work was. This was simply enjoyable music.

He slipped his eyes shut, nodding to himself, though not with the beat of the song. It was more of an agreement with the song as he listened intently, the sad but inevitable ending of a story, but not without proper and nearly perfect closure.

Enra shook his head slowly.

"No, it's fine... It was great. Thanks."

He smiled softly and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.

"It's a really nice song... Well-played piano is always a treat for my ears."

(Speaking of songs I'd forgotten about... Hrm.)

"Any song that someone plays truthfully becomes their best."

He passed a grin back, fiddling with a simple C chord tune on the higher octaves of the keys by playing small one key strokes here and there.

"Piano's a great instrument..."

Upstairs, a certain blue child was sitting on the edge of his bed, rocking back and forth as he clutched at his stomach, hoping that the motion would somehow alleviate his pain, but ending up only in another spasm. Even with the removal of his memories, there was something else, a residual piece that didn't lie in his memories...

"It's getting worse, isn't it."

Howard stepped out from the closet, hands in his front pockets. Albee smirked, finding a small joy in his pain.

"Ah, finally coming out of--"

"No more jokes, -------- ."

The child froze. His pain left him for a moment, though he was unsure of whether or not it was because of the word spoken or if the eagerness to know how he'd found it his true name. He felt a pulling at his innards, though it wasn't painful. It was the beginnings of a sealing.

"...Where did you learn that, Howard Elizabeth Llars."

He winced. His full name. That was just mean.

"...Same place I got this."

He reached into his back pocket, revealing a bottle. Ordinary, glass, and with a piece of aged yellow paper that was peeling off of it. The writing was in a different language, but for those who could read it, it spelled out, 'curry powder.' And more than anything, it scared the living daylights out of the djinn.

"You aren't."

"I am."

"You said you wouldn't."

"I did."

"You promised in--"

"--in the sacred form of the Unspoken. Yes, I was there. I'll deal with those hacks when the time comes."

Emotions roiled inside him now, a mixture of sadness and loneliness and anger... most notably anger.

"You dare."

"I do."

"And what will Harriet thi--"

Howard uncorked the bottle, and Albee felt the familiar tug through his innards. He hadn't felt this in a few millenia... the pull of the summons. In moments, his essence was sucked into the bottle with a soft pop. There was nothing particularly different about the bottle now, except for a slightblue glint of light that one would see out of the corner of the eye.

"Don't you dare bring my mother into this."