Music of the Night [Risiko, Crowley, Open]

The theater was dark and empty that evening. Lone footsteps echoed eerily as their producer walked up to the stage.
Risiko supposed that inside a theatre, one couldn't tell whether it was night or day, but this whole dark-surrounded-by-dark never failed to unnerve him. Wearing his usual jacket, he had snuck (walked? The rules of curfew were always unclear to him. Regardless, he was outside the main castle) out to the theatre with his violin in a long rectangular case slung over his back.
At the foot of the stage, he placed the case on it and hopped up, sitting face outwards so he could see who all entered. Unless someone's backstage his paranoia thought. Risiko tried to ignore it. Depressing two silver buttons, he undid the latch and opened the case. The violin's figure was underneath an olive green cloth, almost like a corpse might lie under a sheet. The coffin was also done in olive green velvet, had spaces for four bows and one instrument. Risiko removed the sheet and folded it over the case lid. His instrument lay there with a shoulder rest around it's neck. He took it in his arms and started idly plucking it with his thumbs.
Perhaps spitefully (or atmospherically. It certainly fit the dark theatre) his instrument started whispering some old, half-remembered gothic melody.

Sitting comfortably somewhere near the middle of the hall, on the back of a chair with his feet on the seat and his elbows on his knees. Crowley thought it too awkward to break the silence but that would happen anyway. Soon, hopefully with something better than him saying 'Fire! Fire in the theatre!' He adjusted his scarf and continued to wait.

Apparently Risiko was going to be here after getting his instrument of choice. If he wasn't, Crowley would just...do something. He wasn't sure yet. It seemed a shame to turn an alright pupil against him. He thought briefly to the first pupils he'd met and realized his standards were low. Understandably. However it didn't even have to be thought about, as he was making an appearance.

"Don't break a leg, I'm not carrying you back to the castle" He said loudly, letting the shape of the room take the sound down. It wasn't serious, just to let him know he wasn't alone. The boy had glasses, so it wasn't out of the question that in the unlit room he wouldn't see him. Sound logic.

Risiko's left hand seized up around the neck of the instrument at the sound of the voice. He hadn't seen anyone coming in here! Panicked, he realized that they must have been there already. Who else had he missed? Was there a crowd?

Crowley finally stood out upon the rows and rows of seats. Just the one, Risiko realized, and calmed down significantly. Chalk it up to performance anxiety, or maybe the fear of not knowing what exactly was happening. Regardless, Risiko now knew that there were only two in the theater, Crowley and Risiko.

Risiko grabbed the bow in his right and hung the neck in his left before standing up.
"Oh, hello. Sorry, we didn't see you back there. Ahhhh" He paused a moment. What had the manticore wanted to hear? He didn't think they had decided. Might as well ask though, make things easier.
"I suppose we might as well start. What were you in the mood for?"