[Her lips quirk into a smile. Music is appreciated, much more than most other things.]

Don't worry, love, I work better with noise anyway. I should only expect that your music is far superior to the buzz of drones and street life.

{The violin is weathered and worn, likely some kind of heirloom or something with deep sentimental value. Blind he may be, but he knows his instrument well enough to care for it. It couldn't be something he found one day, not that she could think. The violin, she muses, has been with him for a while.]

It's good to practice. You'll never know when you need to stay sharp in your skills.