[ Orpheus shows up with apples. Just, so many apples. A whole basket of apples, apples preserved in jars, fresh applesauce, dried apple slices. Connor's got his apple pies too and yet there's still apples in the kitchen. ]

We should probably start eating these? [ he says as he lays them out on the table. ] The fresh ones are probably going to start going bad before I can preserve them, so.

[ Afterwards, he'll sit down in one of the free chairs with the guitar he's taken to carrying around, playing it idly whenever no one else seems to be at the piano or otherwise performing. ]