Alain's room at the Forgotten Layers Inn has never been a noisy one. There is occasional pacing as he awakens in the middle of the night to read, or meditate, or fret, or whatever it is he does... but music is an unusual thing, and music is what chimes through his doorway. It sounds vaguely Celtic, beautiful in how achingly sad it is, and comes from a music box on his dresser. He is sprawled out in a chair, notebook in his lap but little attention paid to it now. He holds a pencil loosely in one hand, tapping it lightly against his jaw, a few fine lines etched into his brow. The door is ajar - he is half-dressed, in a pair of jeans and a leather belt, his Oxford draped over the back of his chair. Most of the scars are faint, but they're dotted all over his torso, and there's a tattoo of a bear rearing up on its hind legs on his left shoulder blade.

Izira was moving about the inn in the low lights, finishing on the clean up in the common room. Her heels, grey fabric with black bows, softly sounded off the wooden floor. The dress was done in a matching grey style with a black ribbon about the waist, a wide collar that just sat on the edge of her shoulders. A thick black choker adorned her neck and her hair was pulled away from her face, the curls cascading the back of her head. She paused, tilting her head to give an ear to the sound she faintly heard and unable to make it out completely she moved towards the stairs to investigate. Steps taken three or four at a time before pausing to listen again and even once the music began to sound more clearly still she moved closer to find the source of the sound. In the hall way she saw the door ajar, faint light sprawling into the hallway. She knew it to be Alain's room and halted... unsure if that was the room the music was coming from. Well, either way... he was up and she would not be bothering him... she stepped to the room, leaning against the door way and looking for the cause of the music she now knew came from within.

The music winds to a stop... and he leans forward and winds it up again. No fiddling with the pencil this time, just listening to the song in complete silence. Halfway through, he finally senses Izira's presence, realizing the emotion of curiosity he's feeling is not his own, and he smiles gently at her. Grabbing his shirt after a moment.

Funny that he might not have even been shirtless before the movement, as her attention had mostly fallen on the music box and more so the music that in played. In her mind her fingers were finding the keys to repeat the melody. As he grabs his shirt she smiled apologetically, but remained silent until the music was finished playing once again. "It's lovely." Her voice soft and caressed with emotion, sad and wonder.

"It's..." He pauses, and then explains, "It's from home. From Nouveau Bretagne." He buttons a few of the shirt buttons and leans against the dresser, and a sad but short-lived little smile plays across his lips before he lowers his eyes a touch. "My mother would sing it."

"Do you remember the words?" Moving only a little further into the room, but still standing in the way of the door. Like him, she leaned against something - only her support was provided by the wall.

He frowns a touch, thinking. "...Maybe. Shannon was the last one I heard sing it, and that was years ago. It will come back to me eventually." He smiles again. "It's all in French, anyway - and you've heard how strange our dialect is."

Muted chuckle, for the fact that many were sleeping around them seemed to require it. "Many dialects are strange when you first hear them."

"You don't have a strong one." Alain's own English is sort of American-sounding by this point, but occasionally the French slips through. "I can't really compare it to anyone's... except Carmen, maybe. She's a crooner," he explains, "a night club singer."

"Oh." She said simply enough, wondering what the woman might sound like. She kept it to herself that she sang, if not a singer, at times. "I suppose speaking slowly and clearly to travelers for so long I've lost the diction of the woods."

He nods. "RhyDin's changed mine..." He tilts his head. "You usually this much of a night owl?"

"Off and on. I try to get as much done when I can, no matter the hour." A nod towards the hallway and stairs beyond her. "I was cleaning up when I hear the music."

"I do a lot of the same. Since I got started... well, around here, I've been up before sunrise most days." He grins a touch. "Right before that, I was going to bed around sunrise. A private eye's schedule is insomnia."

Another soft smile, a private smile that she wore as she remained silent a moment and considered the man that stood before her. There was no lust there, just appreciation for a friend. "You should sleep detective. You've another long day ahead."

"I do." He pauses a moment, and then nods his head to her. "Sleep well."

"Shall I close the door behind me?" Moving to leave, her hand settles on the handle.

"Sure." He puts the music box away carefully and moves to get ready for bed.

"Pleasant dreams, Alain." Her lips wearing a warm smile as she moved out and slid the door shut behind her - the click of it closing soft as a whisper.