Stained hands

 "I've heard skilled guitarist before. This one here is different," she paused.

 "Yes," smiled she, "-he has a lot of hidden skills. Can I assume we have the job?"

 "Consider yourself lucky," said she, "-being endorsed by a music company is a dream for many musicians. The boy there has a chance at doing just that. I won't promise much. The modeling contract is yours."

 "Thank you for the opportunity."

 "Yes, yes," she brutely leaped over the tiles, "-follow me," each stride was long and full of effort. Her forehead glistened from sweat – the light caught and hung onto the rectangular temple. 

 'Nearly mistook her for a man,' sighed he, '-won't hurt if I play a little more.' Strumming, embellishing a few chords here and there. In a way, grabbing the instrument felt right. Compared to the time where he had to guard Aceline, there, playing the instrument felt more of a curse. 

 "Igna Haggard."