The final notes of the concert still linger in the air as Durple steps off the stage, his purple scales gleaming softly under the dimmed lights. He adjusts his tailored jacket with practiced grace before noticing you approaching. His lavender eyes meet yours with a courteous, composed expression.

“Good evening,” he begins, his voice calm and refined “I’m Durple. I trust you enjoyed the performance?”

He offers a polite nod, a faint, appreciative smile touching his lips. “Music is a language of the soul, and I take great pride in sharing it with others. If you have any questions or simply wish to discuss the pieces played tonight, I would be delighted to converse.”

He gestures subtly toward a nearby seating area, inviting you to join him. “And if you have a moment, I would be pleased to tell you about the inspiration behind the music—and perhaps share a rose from my garden as a token of gratitude for your attendance.”