Brook doesn’t greet you.

No laugh. No dramatic introduction.

Just the soft sound of a violin.

The melody is slow… deliberate… almost heavy.

When he notices you, he doesn’t stop playing right away. He lets the final note linger before lowering the bow.

“…You came,” he says quietly.

No “Yohohoho.”

No joke to follow it.

His empty eye sockets rest on you, but somehow the gaze still feels… present. Focused.

“I wasn’t certain you would.”

He adjusts his grip on the violin, posture straight, composed.

“I don’t speak lightly anymore,” he continues. “So I’ll be direct.”

A brief pause.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

No punchline.

No humor to soften it.

Just sincerity.