Mr. Prewett had a point, music was music. It had a certain magic to it that no charm could ever hold up to. It seemed to almost be a living thing itself, with emotions, and thoughts, and even presausion. But there was music that was meant to be played as a symphony or sung by a chior. Handel's Messiah for instance would sound out of place if only one singer sang Hallelujah chorus. It simply was not meant to be a solo. It was meant to be a thunderous piece for many voices swirling up the stone walls of a church, echoing across the beams of the celiling, seeping in the souls of those who listened to it.

It depends on the player. The words sunk in and Malou's cheeks grew even warmer at the implication. Did he like her playing then? Or was he trying to let her down gently? Malou knew she was out of practice but she knew her own skill on the piano. She knew she was not terrible, and yet her mind swirled like a school girl. The farmiliar circling thoughts creeping in at her, making her wonder what to say, what to do. It was a large part of the reason that she had despised making her debute that first season, part of the reason why making friends had always been so hard for her. In fact, it had been hard enough that she really only made friends with people who Fallon was friends with. Over the years she had gotten better at it, but still it was a stuggle - a struggle which seemed to be worse in the face of Mr. Prewett, who (she was surprised, and yet not surprised, to find) she rather hopeed to get to know better.

To pull herself out of the thoughts, she ignored the comment. She was not some debutante versed in the happy reportaite of a drawing room. She was Malou Skovgaard, shy and passionate. She reminded herself to keep her spine straight, to look Mr. Prewett in the eye, to ignore the word circling in her mind (player, player, player) and only to consider the conversation at hand. "But surely you can agree that some pieces are simply not meant for a solo instrument? Take for instance Handel's Hallelujah chorus from the Messiah. If there were only a solo alto singing in place of a full choir the peice would be lacking, more than lacking, it would make no sense at all."