It appeared that Flashman was drifting away in his own world, tapping the cigarette out to its end at the butt and abandoned it carelessly on the ashtray. With his glass of scotch drained and feeling rather sated for now, he was quite prepared to leave for the waiting was simply taking too long. With a quick rising to his feet, a prompt patting down on his shirt to rid himself of any errant bits of ash he clutched his cane once again, peering about the billiards room before returning to the main lobby.<br/><br/>But what was to stop the client from leaving? Flashman already was figuring out the sum he was willing to pay Rubee before making his way for home, and the gentle, haunting tune that originated from the piano of the grand lobby stopped him in his tracks. At this point, his present goal of waiting after Zara fled from his mind and instead stood in the middle of the lobby to observe her with focused care.<br/><br/>Feeling himself drawn closer, and ever closer still towards the performer his foot drew forward, one by one, step by step till he was standing within a hair's breadth behind the mystery performer, keeping his silence in due respect for her. Despite the bluff, stoic expression that was demanded of one who carried that ridiculous bit of tinware on his chest the dark, haunting tune resonated with the pain that echoed within his being, feeling as if he was swaying to the notes produced by her fingers even if he swore that he was standing as still as he could at a parade.