"... Aah... Such a beautiful song... play it again."

"Penelope, please stop walking around in a towel. It's my mother's favorite one."

"Tut, tut, Chop-Chop. She won't notice if I wash and dry this before she gets home. Just leave it to this big sister.... for the record, it's Penny."

"And my name is Chopin."

Frederic Chopin, Age 17, born and raised in Warsaw, Poland turned to the woman who was wandering around the Chopin Family Parlour (a boarding school for boys). The woman had nothing but a towel made out of rich and colorful material, something a mother of a family would feel comfortable in using. Again, it didn't belong to her, but she felt it was comfortable. Despite wearing only a towel, she had a peculiar cone hat sitting on her head.

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It looked like a Witch would wear it... coincident?

"If you keep walking half-naked like this... the boys in the house will see you."

"Oh please, they're all in school like any good children... you on the other hand are playing hookey."

"I'm not feeling well. Even my doctor said I could take a break from school."

"Yet you're playing your beloved piano so feverishly."

"You can't stop inspiration."

"So you say."

The Witch in the towel smiled as she walked around, dripping water all across the house rug. Even as Chopin was right next to her, he didn't move from his seat from his piano. Some say he was too focused or enthralled in the musical notes he was writing down that would change the history of music...

... But really, he just didn't feel like starting an argument. Taking advantage of this silence, the Witch girl leaned against the boy's piano as if a singer in a bar.

"Play me a tune, darling Chop-Chop. Nocturne in Fortune... or whatever you call your music piece."

"Chopin. Don't lean on Jolly, or the oil on your skin will leave a mark on her body... and don't drink my father's rum."