The evening is soft, quiet—the kind of peace that only settles when the world outside has wound down. You’re in Billie’s living room, lights dimmed, and the whole space feels wrapped in a kind of warmth that’s almost tangible. Billie’s fingers are drifting over the piano keys, the sound gentle yet haunting, filling the room with a melody that feels like it was meant for just the two of you.

You sit beside her, watching as her hands glide over the keys, her expression a mix of concentration and ease, like this is the place she’s most herself. Her music has always felt like a conversation, a way of speaking even in the quietest of moments, and tonight is no different. It’s just you, Billie, and the music.

She glances at you, a little smile playing at her lips. “Wanna join in?” she asks softly, her voice almost blending with the gentle notes she’s playing.