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"Intelligent?" F's eyes seemed to brighten at this statement and a click noise originated from somewhere between those tongues of his.
"Oh, you." the flea said in a very camp manner, even accompanied by a hand flop, as if he had been complimented generously by a doting male. He then snorted lazily.

F grinned somewhat sheepishly as Miller snickered at him. The flea-man knew he sounded rather stupid a lot of the time, but since most people seemed to understand it wasn't his fault, he didn't see any point in being down about it.

"Rock?" he repeated after a pause. "Prob'ly not like wha' you're used to." F's musical tastes weren't exactly ahead of the times.
Even so, his strumming slowly became more uptempo and powerful, as non-specifically rock-like as he could manage on his acoustic. Helpfully, F had recently discovered that his hardened skin had proven perfect for a more vigorous playing style.

Still, he looked over to the kid uncertainly as he played.

"Well, I like vat title." F stated simply with a grin. It Was a rather strange existance they'd been shoved into, but at least for F, -most of the time- it seemed to work.

"I wath never one for Meatloaf." he announced casually, eyeing his guitar as Miller spoke. Shortly after the lad mentioned the Rolling Stones however, the intro to Jumping Jack Flash leaked its way from his fingers, and the tune slowly gained more confidence as it lead into the main guitar riff.

"You play anyfing?" F nodded to the lad before wincing at a wrong note. He hadn't played that in a while.

F nodded along as the lad spoke.

"I knew vis kid once.." he began once Miller had explained about his musical endeavors. "Complete doormat otherwithe, but 'e played thome bloody fine jazz piano. Thelf-taught -only been learnin' two yearth as well- but hith improv. wath theriouthly inthpiring."

F stuck his tongue(s) out, and added that whole sentence to his own mental list of vetoed words.

"Whad about thinging?" he asked with a head tilt as he registered Miller's humming, continuing to strum.

The tune emanating from his guitar seemed to have evolved into Santana's 'Black Magic Woman'.

F grinned and shook his head as it seemed Miller hadn't really caught what he'd said. Oh well. Wasn't much of a story anyway.

"My thing- Thsing-." he attempted to correct, making an effort to force more of an 's' sound out. "My thsinging ain't whad it used to be. So I won' impose vat on you now." he said with a lop-sided grin.

F's strange new gurgling, accent-tainted, lisp-ridden voice made for an interesting new style of singing, if you could call it that.

"If y' ever do want to 'ear, I usually play down on vuh beach. In fact-" he paused his playing to look over his shoulder. "-I fink I'll 'ead down vere now." he announced, hopping to stand.

"Well, feel free t' join me if you want. I wath jus' gonna sit and play. Maybe build a thandcastle or two." he gave a slight snort of a laugh.

"If not, I'm in duplex er.. Fifty Five." he concluded. F always had to think on that one. "-If you're ever bored enough to want t' visit the world'th most intelligent flea." he beamed, and held up his hands (one occupied by his guitar) to wait and see what Miller wanted to do.