The gratification of being appreciated also soothes, the arched back of his ire settling like a stroked cat. He smiles coquettishly and cocks his head, affecting self-aware ironic modesty with a glance to one side.

"The piano," he says, with a little wave of his hand, "And the violin. I also sing, when the mood strikes me. It's been some time since I've given a private concert, but I could be persuaded by the correct audience. I would have to find an instrument, of course, and I fear that there may be a lack of decent strings...but we make do."