“Of Charles Mingus, but of all time is good to know too.” His quick answer assured her that it truly was a favorite, he had to put no time into making the decision. “I love love love that you said Gaynor. She’s great and that song is great. My favorite song ever is Clair de Lune by Debussy. Have you heard it?” The question came with a smirk quirking up at the corner of her lips. Honestly, she had hardly met a single person that hadn’t at least heard the song once. “Many people think that song is a lullaby but it’s not. A very close second favorite is Rachmaninoff’s Op. 32. And if I were to name an artist or music that you would likely know better than my favorite would be Muddy Waters ‘Mannish Boy’.” If Patrick wasn’t careful Lalita would talk his ears off all day about music. “Well, I suppose that’s it. I got really burnt out on playing all the time and it really sucked feeling like some showpiece, like snap of the fingers and play for this audience. Plus, I was frustrated with not being able to create. I think I’m an artist down at my core and I really wanted to learn how to compose and for people to enjoy my playing for it being my own music, not just because I could perform the greatest symphonies and pieces out there like some gimmick. Does that make sense?” Somehow, when Patrick answered what he did for a living, even though she’d had no prior clue, it really fit him. There wasn’t a shock at learning it, so much so that she just nodded easily to learning. “Do you like it? What got you into that?” She was curious, always curious about the paths people took in life. Lalita thanked him for opening the door for her and went right to the display case of all the goods. “That would’ve been smart and I should have at least taken a cooking class when I was there,” the designer laughed. “I’m a lingerie designer. The high fashion variety, meaning it’s all specially and specifically made, not mass produced unless I lend design to a shop. Which I did after school in Paris for a while.”
Patrick didn’t both to correct himself, simply shaking his head before glancing back in Lalita’s direction, waiting to hear the verdict on her favorite song. In return, though, he wound up with a longer list and fewer names than he could actually recognized. Lips pursing in thought and the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly, he answered, “I don’t know -- maybe?” His expression verged on a wince for a split second before he chuckle. “Debussy is classical music, right? I don’t think I could name any classically composed song just by sound. Except for maybe Moonlight Sonata... -- I always liked Baby Please Don’t Go.” As the conversation switched gears, becoming more personal to Lalita’s own musical experience, all Patrick could do was nod along. It made perfect sense, really, especially if she’d played for so long and from such a young age. Everyone aged out of doing what their parents expected and usually shedded old hobbies and habits as they went. He could relate with own subject in his life that caused grief between himself and his parents. “And did you?” Patrick asked, taking another moment to realize he should clarify. “Learn how to compose, I mean. Do you ever play things that you wrote, just for yourself, on the days that you have the time?” He glanced back towards Lalita as he held the door open for her, giving a nod in reply when she stepped inside the pastry shop first. “Ah, money. Job stability. I didn’t get into pharmaceuticals for fun and adventure.” Patrick cracked a slight smile and shrugged. “I started school and got lucky with some good advisors, I guess. It all just... fell into place.” He still wasn’t entirely sure how he lucked out with the career he had, but the security of it was something he wouldn’t trade for anything. Listening to the other, Paris and fashion clicked instantly, making more sense than he would’ve expected. “Oh, that’s cool. I’ve never met someone who was into clothes. Or, uh, designing, I guess. You manage to work out of Boston doing something like that?”
