[piosenniel]

“Of, course you are, my dear Arry!” Pio laughed and reached out one hand to cradle her friend’s chin. Turning his head one way and the other. “Who else would you be?!”

Bending down a bit, she hugged him. As her arms encircled his shoulders, her hands bumped up against the instrument held close against his back. “Aah!” she cried in delight, clapping her hands as she stepped back. “We’ll have music!” Her eyes glimmered in the lights hung about the great hall.

‘I remember the old songs we sang. They always lifted my spirits. As did your playing, Arry, and that fine voice of yours.”

She steered him back to where her other companions were engaged in what appeared to be quite amusing conversation. “I have some new songs, too, I’ve learned in places traveled to of late. But what about you? What have you been doing? New songs? And what news do you bring of old friends?”