Greed wouldn't have ever guessed that Envy played the piano. Hadn't the slightest hint. Even if he had, he might have expected something... different from the old homunculus. Something violent and loud; something involving the pounding of keys and some sort of raging mess of notes blaring from the strings. But instead, he was greeted by surprise with a sound that was so very contrary to all that Envy had ever stood for, that it was almost frightening.
He paused in the doorway; this was the place they had decided to meet up that day, always looking for new places to fool around in the subterranean wasteland of a dead city they were forced to call home; it was a game of sorts, to see how far they could get, or how long they could disappear before the old lady caught up with them. It wasn't much; just something to do. He wasn't sure what the older sin was doing, and from the looks of it, neither did Envy. He just stood, broken bench cast aside, letting his slender fingers dance across the dusty keys, coaxing out the gentlest melody they could recall as if by nature, and he stared, half awake, without passion or disinterest; vaguely aware of what his body was doing. When had the little monster ever learned to play music?
It reminded Greed just how little he knew of Envy; the real Envy, or the human he had been. Not that he had really cared, up until this point. He was just another abomination; had once been the son of Dante and a certain man who was not to be named- (Envy was son of his former wife... he tried not to dwell too much on how fundamentally wrong that sounded, considering their current stance.) And now, with mild curiosity, he had to wonder; just what was the little bastard like before his days as a furious monster? Had he played like this? Had he liked it? Had his parents been proud of him? Was he a good son? A nice little boy? What kind of strange irony was that, him turning out as he was?
Something made a noise; it was Greed- a vase tipping- a dull thud and crack rather than a dramatic shatter, and the sound brought a swift razorlike halt to the soft melody; the notes strangled as though by piano wire, in morbidly appropriate metaphor.
There wasn't a gasp, or a shout, or anything of the like, and in fact, the two wore eerily calm expressions as they surveyed each other in hollow surprise, both awoken from their forbidden opium dreams.
It was probably Greed who tried to move first, but the faintest hint of motion initiated the mousetrap reflex of Envy, sharply slamming the dry wooden cover shut over the keyboard, sending cracked up splinters and broken ivory in every direction, and he spun on his heel, deliberately walking away into the dark, pointedly greeting and dismissing his visitor with a flat,
They didn't speak to each other after that. They had both seen too much.