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"I trust you, you know." His final chords rang into the air, and he let them end before he released the cool keys and the pedal. But he'd realized it halfway through the piece, when he noticed his fingers still hadn’t slipped. "That sounds like a mistake." He couldn't see it on her face, but he heard that joking smile in her voice. Her chair creaked as she stood up, but he didn't face her. She had moved to stand just behind the piano bench-- in a room this cold he could feel her warmth. "Asking me to play for you is usually a mistake." He reached for absent-minded, right-handed arpeggios to ground himself in something familiar. "I can't play in front of people I don't trust. I get so nervous my fingers shake. You can imagine how that sounds." He held up his left for her to examine: calm, unmoving. He felt her take it in her hands and rather wished she'd keep it there, even if that too might have made it shake. But she let go, and-- even better-- leaned forward to wrap her