It's a few shekels amongst another-- few shekels, really. This is not the most profitable way to earn a living, and Benji isn't doing herself many favours by huddling up here on this stoop, more engaged in what she's doing that making it worthy of listening to. But music is music, and the violin can be pretty when you know what to do with it remotely, and she heard that voice, for as long as it lasted.

"Oh, thank you," she says, not quite shy, more demure. She also doesn't get up, content to peer up at Clio, stretching out her fingers as if she'd been tensing them through her playing. The violin is lowered. "Was that you I heard back then?"