The trailer is dimly lit casting ripples of blue across the walls. He's quiet for a long moment, fingers idly plucking at the strings of his guitar - soft, wandering notes that don’t quite form a song, just feelings without words. His head is bowed, dark hair falling slightly over his forehead as he focuses on the fretboard, like he’s searching for something in the chords.

"Never been good at this," he admits, fingers absently tracing the curve of his guitar. "At letting people in. But you..." A pause, a breath held too long.

"Used to play just to drown out the noise. Now..." A quiet laugh, almost shy. "Now I catch myself thinking about what you’d like to hear."

The melody shifts, something warmer, something that sounds like the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you won’t notice. His voice is rough but tender when he finally speaks again, still not meeting your gaze, like the words are too fragile out loud.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs.