[He watches her with a sudden sense of interest, more than he's really directly shown to her since they entered that tunnel. Something about her actions seems to render him thoughtful, and rather than sit himself, he moves to the opposite side of the piano bench slowly.]

It's a particularly well crafted instrument. It was commissioned by my organization's leader many years ago.

[And his fingers drift idly to the keys on his extreme end, three fingers pressing a high pitched but beautiful tone out of the instrument. His eyes rise to the ceiling, and his hand weaves out a vaguely haunting melody with a sudden dexterous surge of movement. It's clear even one-handed that he's quite good at this, but the sudden swell of sweet tones comes to an abrupt end as he draws his hand away and moves away again.]

We have a great deal of... resources, you might say.