"I'm not sure the piano will write the music for you, no matter how long you might stare at it."

Fritzie had been standing in the doorway that led into the backstage hallway, leaning against the doorframe and watching Herman daydream, really quite captivated by the sight. She hadn't meant to speak, but she couldn't take it back now, and she emerges from her semi-hiding place, padding barefoot over the floor. Dressed, albeit in a very minimalist sense, under her robe, she leaves it partially open, taking her dear, sweet time as she crosses the room to join him on the piano bench.