Beck was learning to tolerate the constant noise of other creatures, even if he absolutely hated it. How he longed for the silence, the eternally quiet days wasted away in isolation from the world, with only a mutated fly trap at his side. Yet even the loneliest of hermits needed attention every once in a blue moon. Which was what he assumed had been his reasoning for washing up on a pirate-infested island in the first place. Regret stabbed between his ribcage with every electronic note pounded out and every proceeding voice clamoring in his head. Struggling to keep his teeth from gritting in annoyance otherwise he reawaken the pain of an untreated jaw fracture, the little poltergeist defeatedly looked up from where he had been lazing in a low-hanging tree, paws clamped over his ears to muffle the nearby racket. Well, if he couldn't ignore them, he might as well join them in a crusade to keep the shores peaceful and uninterrupted by key mashing.

    Was this what the modern generation called music? Beck couldn't help but wrinkle his mutilated snout at the sight, pointedly circling around Caesar to glare down at the source of his current agony. "Gross," was all his aching mouth could rasp out, the sparking circuits of the poor device causing his own apparition to bristle with static. Nobody would mourn if he just sapped off a little energy, right? Who knew when his next chance to stock up would be. But judging on the other child's behavior, it would be best to not completely fry their broken toy and put it out of its misery. The concept of repairing the mockery of an instrument was amusing at least, and with the best intentions, Beck squinted down at the machine. It was supposed to be a piano, or at least he thought. Plopping back into a slouch, one frigid paw reached into his apparition, disrupting the illusion of existence as he fished around for what he believed would be useful. After a moment, Beck retrieved a bundle of piano wire, fumbling to unravel it and pull it taut before he presented the useless supply to the girl, an oblivious attempt at a smile twitching on disfigured lips. Until he realized the leftover blood still staining the wire from its prior use as a ligature, but he quickly licked the dried blood off, wincing at the texture as he offered it back to Linux. The keyboard had to of had regular piano mechanisms inside it, so replacing a snapped wire would fix it, right?