Sonia slips her hand back into the proffered glove with exaggerated daintiness, a caricature of an over-delicate Vor lady. Her smile tilts, but her eyes are bright and earnest.

"I'm going to hold you to that," she murmurs. "As soon as I find some music."

She'll produce it out of...somewhere. She breathes out a sigh and her smile grows rueful. "Me? I don't know about that. My sister, certainly. She's...brilliant. A force of nature unto herself."

Because only a force that powerful could marry someone like Piotr and survive -- and thrive. They make each other better and stronger for it. Sonia mostly just has...herself.