[Mozart looks around, somewhat relieved by how deserted things are. Excepting groups Shiro has dragged him to, he's avoided copious amounts of people. The musician takes a seat on one of the abandoned chairs, glancing at everything as if he's seeing it for the first time. It's been awhile since he's been in this particular room -- or at least in this room when it's devoid of life.
He frowns at that thought. It could very well lose all its inhabitants by tomorrow for all he knew. But he was here. Shiro was here. He glances up to the other boy, parts his mouth as if to say something, but then shuts it and discards his thought.]
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He frowns at that thought. It could very well lose all its inhabitants by tomorrow for all he knew. But he was here. Shiro was here. He glances up to the other boy, parts his mouth as if to say something, but then shuts it and discards his thought.]