Johann doesn’t particularly like the taste of Avi’s brandy. He’s not much of a drinker in general, but he is one of Robbie’s best customers. He’s sitting on his bunk while Avi sits on his, lazily picking at the strings of his violin, a soothing if staccato melody filling the air alongside the haze of smoke. Avi takes a drink from his flask and lets out a low whistle as Johann pauses, stretching out his hand.
“That sounds really good,” Avi says offhandedly, glancing over at Johann.
“They don’t call me the–”
“–greatest violinist basically ever for nothing, I know.” Avi grins, dimples on full show. Johann likes seeing him like that. It’s not hard to make Avi smile, but it’s satisfying. It’s contagious, too; Johann feels the corners of his mouth twisting up just slightly. “Play me that one song,” Avi says as the silence continues.
“It’s still a work in progress,” Johann reminds him, but he’s already reaching for the bow kept safely in his violin case.
“I like it, though.” When Johann obliges, Avi hums along quietly. He’s off-key – he can’t sing for shit, although he somehow manages to be great at karaoke anyways – but when it’s Avi, Johann doesn’t mind.