Vyan groaned, his fingers hovering over the keyboard in defeat. "Dammit, why can't I get it right?" He threw his hands up childishly before slumping his shoulders in disappointment.
For a moment, he just glared at the keys, like it was their fault for not singing out the melody all on their own.
After a deep breath, he rolled his sleeves back up, ready to give it another go. "I should try agai—" But his sentence was cut off when a pair of hands landed softly on his shoulders.
He rolled his eyes. "Clyde, I swear, get your hands off—" He froze, feeling the familiar warmth of a breath near his ear and the distinct scent of a perfume he knew all too well.
"I am hurt you would mistake my touch for Clyde's," Iyana whispered, her voice laced with playful mockery.
"My bad," he replied with a slow grin. "It's just that Clyde has been trying to assassinate me with his so-called S-class massaging skills."
