Silent Music (Pamela and Adel BH)

A passion for music was something Pamela did not posses. Well, she liked to listen to it, but it really wasn't her thing. She had been forced to learn to play an instrument when she was younger, but it had been decades since she had played that old thing. Still, something compelled Pamela to take the instrument out and practice it again. Pamela had found her mother's old flute and had brought it out to where she knew no one was to at least attempt to play it. Slowly, Pamela lifted the flute to her mouth and slowly began to play it. A little rusty. She thought. But it isn't really isn't that bad. Then, she abruptly stopped. No, I don't like this. She thought. That's why I quit in the first place.

He let out a yawn, he had been wandering it all over the place lately. From that small valley to the bigger town. Adel hummed softly, where did he end up now? From the looks of it, a vineyard. For a moment, he dropped his mask and smiled. He hadn't had a glass of wine in such a long time--he would have to go drink something soon. But then a sound entered his ears, almost making him wince. It was a high-pitched sound, one that made him quickly drop his smile and put that normal look on his face. "What was that?" He mumbled to himself, looking around for the source of the sound.

Adel soon spied a young woman, she looked a little familiar but paid no attention to that thought, "Excuse me, was that you?" He questioned her, noticing what seemed to be a flute in her hands.

Pamlea jumped at the sound of a voice. She didn't know anyone had been around. "Yes." she mumbled without looking up. Her face flushed red. She quickly put the flute away and slipped it under the bench. "What of it?" Pamela took in a deep breath of air, slowly regaining her cool. Can't go anywhere to be alone anymore, can you?

He had disturbed the woman, but Adel didn't really seem to care, he merely stood there and waited for her to respond to him. She agreed, he merely nodded then watched her with a bit of confusion on how she would be embarrassed to hold the flute, but hide it away. "Nothing of it. A high-pitched annoyance just came out of no where." He stated as if it was normal. "I apologize for bothering you." He went about his normal thing again, marveling at the ripening grapes.

High pitched annoyance? "Hey look pal." Pamela hissed, standing up. "I don't really care who you are, but it's really rude to speak that way, even if I do suck at it. You could have at least said 'Well, good luck with that then.' then been on your way." Pamela itched her arm. For some reason, her right arm always itched when she was annoyed. People who think they are high and mighty always got on Pamela's nerves. Although she hadn't known him that long, she could see it on the man's face. Or maybe her temper was getting the best of her.

She seemed to be calling out to him, he stopped and looked back towards her with a perked up brow, "I wasn't saying you were terrible." He told her firmly, "The flute," He made a small gesture with her hand towards the area that she had hidden the small instrument in, "Is the annoyance." He spoke, letting his hand relax back down by his side. If he was being forced to wait for some respond, he could at least look at the vines as they gracefully hung from their spots.

Pamela let out a sigh. "Ah, you I guess you don't like high pitched noises." This guy must have dog ears. "Sorry, I just don't like arrogant people." she said placed her arms across her waist. "Anyway, music really isn't my passion, anyway. I just thought I'd try and see how much I remember. I do like listening to it, though. Classical is fine. Other music just gets on my nerves."

He didn't put his eyes on her, but only kept admiring the grapes on the vines, "I don't care." He simply stated, taking off one of his gloves to touch the green vines, lightly tracing the round purple grapes. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I really don't care, personally." He moved around a bit, looking at all of them. Even if they looked a little bit identical, they all were different. Different with scratches, different markings, different colors. "Your opinion." He merely replied, "Mine may be different."

Pamela nodded. "Ya, suppose so." she sighed. "Anyway, you don't seem too interested in anything, so sorry for talking your ear off." Pamela smiled and got stodd up. "Anyway, enjoy the grape vines before other tourists get here, maybe eat two or three. See you around. Maybe." Pamela started down another row of grapes. She wasn't leaving, but she didn't want to bother anybody either.
Pamela found another bench and sat down. I really wish I had brought a book. She thought. Pamela stared up at the vines with the grapes on them. They were pretty, and they made good wine.