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He looked up and laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners merrily.

"You made quite the impression on them, Milady Xaya. They have to have someone to gossip about in order to lighten thier dreary office existance, you see." He flicked his long ponytail over his shoulder unconciously and straightened up his sleeves abd waistcoat. "Besides James here, you're the newest person. It stands to reason that they talk."

"Oh! Forgive me my lack of manners. I am Rory King."

"xaye why is it you have problems getting along with people. You get along wiht me just fine." James asked her. waving hi to Mr. King.

He grabbed his stuff and started to leave when he saw James and Xaya talking and decided to go out the back way through a door that joined two rooms.

Rory stared after the retreating backs of the two, and shook his head.

"No," He sighed softly to himself. "Its useless to know anyone else, you should know that by now."

He strode off in the direction of the library again, taking back ways.

"I don't need anything but my art. I don't know why I decided to be friendly."

Rory slid onto the piano bench in a dusty corner in the school library. He lifted the shelf over the keys, and, after testing a few notes, began to play.

He threw himself into the song, one of passionate melancholia and nostalgia. Eyes closed, body swaying, his fingers pounded into the keys; it seemed almost like he and the instrument were a single being. He threw his head back and sang along with the notes wordlessly, voice melding along with the piano seamlessly.

At the end of the song, he began again. And then again.

The music crashed to a grinding halt. Rory turned around quickly, caught off guard and in a vulnerable state. A stack of his papers fell to the ground as he hurridly stood up and nearly tripped over the bench.

He made wild snatches at the falling sheets and managed to catch one, crumpling it beyond repair. The rest fluttered to the floor, and he scrambled to gather them up again in quick, jerky movements.

He felt his face burning. "Students aren't supposed to like their teachers, you know," He said almost conversationally, attempting to cover his humiliation. "I most certainly never did. Thought it was a universal rule once."

He stood awkwardly, placing his papers on the bench and dusting off his breeches.
"One thing, though..."

"This... this is my song. I'd only ever played it here or at the auditorium. How did you hear of it?" He queried.

"I've been here longer than I myself would like to admit, when I was about 5 I would always come here alone and always sat in the back ofa room and listened to the music,It didnt matter who played but I've heard yoru song so many times....." He smiled and whipped away a tear.