Everyone on the dance floor stopped for a minute to stare at the source of the honeyed melody. They stood in awe, she drank it all in. It fed her, their adoration. Made her stronger, more powerful.
And after that minute, they resumed dancing, talking, catching up, whatever they were doing before they stopped to stare.
She went on singing, letting her voice cuddle the people, relaxing them, allowing their guards to drop.
Then he appeared.
She held her hand out to him while she continued her song. He took it and kissed her knuckles. They looked at eachother’s eyes and she gave a nod. He bowed his head and held up the ukulele he brought with him.
It gleamed beneath the lights, polished, smooth to touch. Astonishing actually, considering it had been around for a thousand years.
He brought it up to his chest and plucked the strings.
He strummed and she sang.
And everyone in the room fell down dead.