Well, then. She'd expected it to be doable, but not that easy - not as if pulling instruments out of thin air is something he's done many times before. Though now that she thinks about it, where would he keep them if he's always traveling through time and space? His subterranean den resting place? But then he'd have to keep popping back there whenever he wanted to switch instruments, and… you know what, she's just not going to question it right now.

"Not a guitar, then," she guesses, resisting the urge to give that drum-like head a curious poke. She's familiar with its odd, twangy sound from before, but it's not like anything she's heard outside of this strange dream. "Could you play something? Maybe something that isn't about murderers?" That would at least pass the time, and goodness knows how much of that they're going to have before they wake.