[ How funny— in life, Mozart surrounded himself with self-destructive artists, the types who would drink and dive into death if it made for entertainment. In death, he finds himself making company with the dreary sort, the ones who question the simple things in life because it seems all so incomprehensible to them. For good reason.

Sweeping his long hair back, Mozart laughs. It's the little things. ]

They're admiring the view. You might not have realized, but I'm quite the looker.

[ Who knows if he's being serious? He grins like a jester, eyes narrowed and teeth gleaming. ]

—Not to mention that you're not so bad, yourself. [ Playing with Ain's paws again. ] Mm, you're definitely what I'd call 'cute'.