"Don't worry about it. I'm learnin' but I'd still probably not complain about your cookin' but I bet you just wanna see me slavin' behind a hot stove."

He watches her examine the keyboard. Seems almost wistful at a side-glance. What'd make her memory so fuzzy? At least that's what he's gatherin'. He could stop dickin' around and ask but this is a long-ass train and some things are good sit-down conversation.

"Who, me? Nah. I whistle. Don't play. I don't mind it here though 'cause it's somethin' to keep my mind busy."

He demonstrates for her, one of the songs he's picked up since being on the train. It comes naturally to him, moreso than the words spoken from his scratchy throat. But that's because the Centaurian language was mostly whistling. He might not remember as much as he'd like, the predisposition to speak to Kree literally beaten into him, but the casual ability is still there.