When he entered, he would see nothing but hear a cello playing with a metronome in the background. It was doing quick scales that went down and up, and the metronome seemed to be ticking quite quickly.
When he entered the living room, he would find Poppy sitting with her back to him, playing the cello quickly. Her glasses were perched on her nose, but she squinted over them to read the music. The piece seemed to have triplets that ran up and down the strings, and her brow was furrowed. But then, one false note rang through, and she sighed with frustration, raising a hand to stop the metronome.
"Ach. Thank you. This run is killing me, though." She put down her cello and stretched. "It's good to see you. How was your day?"
"Research," she agreed with a nod. "And the procedure. And the introduction. And the variables. And I made data tables." She looked down at the floor sheepishly. "I got a little carried away."
She started towards the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. They got toher room, and she nudged the door open with her hip. She went to her desk and came back with a file folder, about 15 pages thick. "Here's what I wrote."
