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"Hey, darling, are you alright?"
The sentiment is gentle and sweet, but your lips do not curl into a smile, let alone give any facial recognition of appreciation. Your face is cold, calculating, and straight; always as hard as stone. What serves to be comedic is deeply concerning to 2D, and he'd like to get to know you more. There's something just so interesting about you. Something so impressive with the way you're not bothered.
"Yeah," you reply, voice as flat as a tire, sharing no sign of interest either. His brows furrow as he examines your face through devoid eyes, observing every little thing about you. He doesn't mean to be a creep, and certainly not a pervert. But he just worries. "You sure? You never show any... sign of emotion." The blue haired man notes. Of course, you've been asked this question a million of times, everybody always worrying about your seeming lack of interest in anything ever — always keeping a straight face during a movie, no matter what genre, is worrying, apparently. "I, uh, don't mean to be invasive. I just... you know, worry alot. Especially about you."
"I told you, I'm fine." Your tone is tired, and the bags under your eyes seem to give it away, but to be fair, you always look like that, always sound like that. He knows it's just the way you are, but still. "Oh, alright then, love..." He mutters awkwardly, scratching the back of his head before getting an idea. "Hey, uh, you don't mind if I play a little song for you, right?"
"Sure." You shrug, knowing it'd be the same if he didn't play a song for you: you don't care that much, but he seems to be making an effort in getting to know you, for whatever reason. "Cool!" He beams with a bright smile, showing off his crooked teeth, noticing the missing ones in the front, then fixating on his fingers as they settle onto his keyboard, gently tapping a few notes, creating a smooth sound that fills up your ears. You've never really cared about music, but becoming close to a band means you have to hear it alot. It's whatever. Everything is always so whatever to you.
Somehow, though, you feel a butterfly flapping around in your stomach, or something like that as he hums while playing his keyboard, continuing to create mindless noise just for you. The realization renders you a certain way, but doesn't it matter that much? You don't think so, no matter how weird. You watch as 2D carefully toys with the instrument, taking in every precise movement of his. Even with your disinterest in practically everything in the world, you can admire skill when you see it, and well, he's using that skill for you.
Possessed by some kind of spirit, you blink your eyes, resting your head against the British man's shoulder. 2D's lips curl into a warm smile, pressing the keys again. He flusters at the sudden affectionate gesture, surprised because he knows how much you disdain it, but if you want to give it to him, then he'll allow it. "Goodnight, love."