Rico has zero objections to that if it'll keep him alive. Even if he's acting as Nova's backup singer. Out of sheer self-preservation, he starts humming with him. He picks up the melody fairly quickly, and his voice isn't half bad, rumbling and gravel-deep as it is. But that isn't strictly the problem.

It's the feeling behind it. His involvement seems to make the Abstract Children agitated and restless again, some stirring from their half-slumber. It could be the sentiment behind it, grudging and only just technical. Rico notes this with some slight mental surprise, and starts humming harder. It doesn't help.

Drokk. What is it that Rider is doing that Rico isn't?

There's something undefinable in Rider's voice, in his expression, something Rico can't quite pin down. That must be it. The secret behind how he's doing it. But what is it? He rakes his mind as he quietly puzzles at it, staring at Rider with an intent focus, but suddenly something just clicks, shifts mental gears, and an entire world opens up for him. He gets it and it's right there like a diamond in a safe, bright and shining in his mind's eye, and he darts forward and snatches at it with eager hands.

And suddenly, whatever the hell Rider is feeling, Rico's feeling it too. There's his own ache in his chest (except it's not his - not really) that makes him feel horribly uncomfortable and strangely jealous, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling with unease. The ghost of the love that Rider's feeling settles badly in the hollow of his throat, but the melody manages to come out of him with genuine emotion even as his thoughts are jumbled and alarmed and confused.

As the lullaby progresses, some of the Abstract Children settle, and lie still.

They don't get back up.