great scene, i think.
Some feet away, an adolescent boy sat and listened with pale, distant eyes. He had the same thick hair and clean cut jowl as the man at the piano. He sat eerily still on the maple loveseat. The only part of him that moved at all was his chest, which rose and fell delicately to the slow count of his breathing.
The air was thick. Not just with fog. There was an intensity mounting from the outside of the living room where they sat. Growing more evident, like a crescendo rising.
Abruptly the boy jerked upwards and stood. The young man glanced at him petulantly but his playing did not falter.
“Wrong, something.” He stared distantly out the doorway that led to the dining room, from where rhythmic footsteps could be heard approaching steadily. The boy stood with his arms slightly away from his sides, as if bracing himself.
“What are you talking about, Kellan?” The young man asked. His eyes did not stray from the piano keys.
“Worried?” Kellan grunted.
Kellan was cut off by the appearance of a tall, ashen faced man in the doorway.
The Bach tune stopped and the young man faced the butler. He sat as eerily still on the piano bench as Kellan had minutes before on the loveseat. His lip was hard.
The butler grunted and addressed the two of them. “I have some grave news. Your father has been murdered.”
The butler scratched his head nervously, anticipating a response.
After a moment, the young man sighed shortly and continued to play the piano.