Clive struck the last few notes of his latest composition. They were all at the far right end of the piano, tinkling high notes that sounded like a sort of spooky wind chime gone berserk.  

Devin had walked in the room a few moments before, but he knew better than to interrupt his friend when he was in the middle of playing a piece. Few things irritated Clive Welter-Manes more than being startled out of a performance. 

At the moment, he was still bent over the keyboard, waiting for the last resonance of sound to dissipate, his long, curvy blonde hair dangling in front of his forehead and down the back of his baggy black sweatshirt. After holding this pose for a few dramatic seconds, he turned his head to the right and realized he wasn't alone. "Dev. What's up?" 

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