"Everybody sings," Zhuge replies, hand shifting until it clasps hers in full, before reaching out to rest on her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. She's beautiful when she's like this, bright and excited and full to burst. She's beautiful at other times too, of course, when she falls and winds like a fluttering leaf to the ground, but Zhuge knows that he prefers her like this, standing strong and ready to give life everything that she has within her. As long as he can inspire that in any capacity, Zhuge feels that the day is a fulfilling one. Reaching out to tuck an errant lock of hair behind her ear, Zhuge raises a brow.

"I do not know if I sing well. I do not sing for other people," he adds with a tilt of his head.