The poor thing had been so neglected for so long, dust covering its battered case and sitting behind some empty crates. Stanislav had nearly forgotten he knew how to play the damn thing; a skill required and upheld by his old medic. He could only wonder where the German was, but he simply brushed off the worry as he dragged the cello case out of the old storage room and into the recreational area.
After having set up the old thing, tuning the instrument and giving a few careful plucks, he let the cello rest back against his chest. He ran the bow along the strings experimentally, grinning to himself at the smooth, rich sound.
He’d come by to pay his friend a visit. He rather enjoyed the Spy’s company and it seemed to be mutual. Besides, even though he wasn’t living totally alone anymore, Karl wanted to make sure Stanislav had a little companionship. If he found Karl’s favorable, all the better.
Spying the instrument he’s tinkering with, Karl is about to comment when the note is played- and by force of habit, he falls into a ready position. If Stanislav plays, he’ll dance. It’s always better to perform for an audience, anyway.
The Russian perked up some at the sound of the other coming into the room, and at the sight of the other’s odd position, he could not help but smile. Well, now was the perfect chance to see if he really was a dancer. The Russian gave a soft hum to himself as he mulled over what to play, and after a moment, he gave a faint nod and began running his bow along the strings once more.