Winter smiles with adorable excitement. “There’s this little mall on the corner. And about my hands, I put-“ She stops and turns red when it registers what he’d said. “Sorry,” she murmurs, dropping his hand. She clears her throat. “To answer your question, I use my hands all the time so that must be the moisturizer. Playing with dry hands makes my hands bleed and actually makes the music sound worse, less smooth.”

Ivy plops onto her back on another sofa. She softly sings Breakeven. “Barely alive but I’m barely breathing, just praying to a God I don’t believe in.”