Piper grins, clearly delighted, and lifts one hand. “Honestly? A little confidence boosting goes a long way.” She gives a quick, deliberately reedy whistle that sounds exactly like a beginner clarinet, thin and uncertain.
Then she shifts, breath and posture changing, and whistles again. This time the line is smooth, warm, assured. It carries just long enough to make the contrast land.
“That,” she says lightly, “is mostly belief. The fingers usually already know what they are doing.”
She catches her breath, then taps the mic once. “But let’s get back to why we’re here.”
Piper rolls straight into a familiar crowd favorite, something easy to sing and impossible to sit still through. Voices rise, glasses lift, and another round ordered to wet the throats... money in Muddy's pocket. Not pressing her luck too much on the boss's time and dime.