[Gilles stiffens at the sense of a Servant nearby, and he turns, drawing his hands away from the keys. He likes to think he can sense that it's her, but maybe it's that he always expects (or hopes) it will be her. He stares at her for a few moments before replying.]

Jeanne...

[He wants to be near her, but at the same time, he can barely bear being in her presence, and just seeing her makes him want to scream. In the end, the sheer joy of speaking to her, of her remembering who he is, momentarily overwhelms his pain. All he'd ever wished was to be reunited with her...]

I enjoy the arts. I am a patron of the arts. [Though he had come to truly appreciate them later.] So why not become an artist as well? Did you like my playing? I am teaching myself!

[That discord is pleasing to him. He can make such hideous noises, like the groans of the dying.]