Roman told him quietly that she didn't mind, and J relaxed slightly. She was good. Probably the closest thing to a friend he had, and he needed to be grateful for that. He knew she tried to look out for him, which helped, but there really wasn't much one test subject could do for another test subject in a complex run by people whose only purpose in life seemed to be causing pain to them. They all suffered here. He coped with it by letting it wash over him without resisting, but that didn't fix the jumpiness or the anxiety. He would never be strong, only more broken as time passed. But he could deal with that, couldn't he. As long as there were still some good things to hang on to.
Roman shifted into another piece, one that he didn't recognize, but rang with a sincere sadness. He couldn't tell if it came from her or the music. He listened silently to rise and fall of the notes, trying to attach it to a source. He couldn't pick up a composer that it might have come from. If he ever summed up the courage, maybe he'd ask her to teach him. But he couldn't do that now. He wished he had the bravery to play when the others were around, but he couldn't. The only audience he'd ever had was his Nanny and music instructor who didn't really understand that a child's fingers have limits in stretching capabilities.
As the piece faded into an ending, Roman shifted. He turned his head from staring into nowhere just before she began to speak, watching her inquisitively. She asked him a question. He couldn't help but flush a little as he thought of a response. His fingers toyed the metal circlet around his wrist again. Twisting it left a slight burning sensation on his wrist. A somewhat smile curved across his face. "Do you know any of Chopin's Nocturnes?" He asked in a soft voice. He'd learned them for the cello when he was younger, but they were primarily piano pieces, and the little melodies sounded infinitely better on the keys. The melodic melancholy intensified twofold. Regardless of instrument, the pieces reminded him of a better time. He slid his hands into his pockets, turning slightly to face the piano.
And then he jumped, spooked, vanishing for a second, as Veronica entered the room. He wasn't sure what he'd thought to have entered, but it sent his heart racing in his throat. He turned to see the girl flop onto the couch, guitar in hand. He winced slightly, but the guitar made it out of falling onto the couch alive and still tuned, and she began strumming along, singing in a voice that sounded like a perpetual yawn. J let his shoulders relax, and then he realized that he was still vanished. He rubbed his neck with his bracelet-ed hand, which to them would look like the metal band floating in the air, and reluctantly reappeared from the feet up. He looked a little on the pale side, but it wasn't hard to make all the blood drain from his face anyway.
He sent a pleading glance towards Roman, as if asking for permission to leave, twisting his hands together. He didn't have anything against Veronica, she was nice and they were in the same situation, it was hard to hate someone who was going through something so terrible alongside him. But she was so loud. And he wasn't really. The constant movement and noise and action set him on edge, wired like a jackrabbit ready to run. But some sense of obligation towards Roman, most likely from the music, prevented him from just fleeing. He needed some kind of excuse to escape, and none were coming readily to mind. His hands clasped together, locking into a knot of anxiety and fingers. Through that he managed to smile at Veronica, he still had to be nice, still had to be friendly. It didn't matter if it felt like his heart was about ready to beat out of his mouth from the fright her entrance had given him. He hadn't always been so jumpy, but the tests had blurred the line between the testing environment and reality, and fright was always his instinct. Especially when it came in at that volume, unexpected.