[ More like hundreds of years, probably. Squalo doesn't know the song. But it only takes him one repeat to figure out the melody, and he sits down on the stool, picks up the cello and starts playing. One of the strings is a little out of tune, but he compensates it by moving his fingers higher than they should be until he catches a moment to fix it. ]
[ Yeah, it's obvious he's not a vocalist, but his voice is pretty nice, he thinks. You can tell when someone enjoys what they're doing, what is the case now. Despite feeling a certain set of words tapping at the back of his mind, Squalo stays quiet for now, instead coiling an intricate little melody around the main chords the other man is playing, almost like ivy climbing on a fence. ]
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[ Yeah, it's obvious he's not a vocalist, but his voice is pretty nice, he thinks. You can tell when someone enjoys what they're doing, what is the case now. Despite feeling a certain set of words tapping at the back of his mind, Squalo stays quiet for now, instead coiling an intricate little melody around the main chords the other man is playing, almost like ivy climbing on a fence. ]