Larry had seen her before. She was a difficult one to miss, a buoyant ghost of whites and greys amidst the hotel's sea of decidedly human figures. It was a little surprising, he thought, that somebody like her was so rare in a place like this. Just now, she reminded him of the clouds, the soft, pastel colors of the sky lovely on her pale skin and hair.

He plucked out a few more chords and then laid his hand to rest across the guitar strings as he smiled gently up at her.

"Some of it," he answered.