Eliot approached the mic, the guitar Parker had appropriated for him hanging awkwardly from his shoulder. How was it he could do just about anything else smoothly, but you put him on a stage with a guitar and he froze up like a shy teenager?

. . . Right, probably because that was the last time he'd lived the kind of life that sometimes involved stages and guitar playing.

"Um. Hi." He strummed the guitar once, stalling, then rolled his eyes and leaned back into the mic. "This is all Parker's fault."

Then he shut up and got to playing.