'I intend to grow in power regardless.  Once there is enough of me I will have the ability to work on this in parallel with more central projects.'

"Okay. Would you like to - see more, or have me teach you to use a computer so you can browse on your own -"

'If you think that's wise.'

"I can keep recommending things instead but I don't know if my taste is likely to correspond to what will - inspire you."

'Your first choice was unlike anything I have encountered before.  I do not think I absorbed very much of it.'

"...do you want more recommendations, or just the Library of Hell and a computer tutorial to browse it?"

'I would like to watch the same thing again.'

Cam rewinds Atriama. "There are also other productions of the same," he mentions.

They nod a beat or two later than would be a usual response for a human.

"...do you want to see a different one or this same one again?"

'The same one.'

Cam falls silent. Makes himself dinner while it plays again.

They're less motionless on this watch; they request that he replay certain moments of choreography frequently enough that possibly he will want to teach them how to do that themself - there's a few bits they watch a dozen times over.  With those, they get up and start mirroring the dancers.  Apparently they're capable of shifting forms, although at first it's hard to tell; they don't grow or appear wings so much as make it seem plausible that they'd had them all along in a way that one just failed to notice.  This extends to their clothing as well; their boots - if they were ever wearing boots - get traded in for more dance-appropriate shoes and bits of their coat and skirt appear smaller so as to stay out of the way of their movement, or flare out to accentuate a spin.  Somehow they never hit the ceiling or floor even when it definitely seems like they should.

They also ask a lot of questions, mostly about what's fiction versus reality, but also the plot in general, whether things are foreshadowing, details about the music theory and what instruments are being used, and how the lighting works.

Fortunately, Cam really likes Atriama and can get into all the fine details for quite a while, though he has to look up details about how this production was orchestrated and lit.

'Another production?'

Cam puts on another very different staging.

They refrain from commenting till half an hour in.  'I dislike this.'

"...would you like to switch to a third one, or keep watching it for, uh, background, or do you mean you've determined you dislike Atriama in general?"

'I would like to switch to a third one.'

Cam switches. There are many productions of Atriama in the history of Hell. It's even been put on by fairies once, with costume wings and particularly elaborate choreography, and angels, twice.

They ask for a few instruments once it occurs to them to do so and add quietly playing along to their methods of active consumption.  They pick up the appropriate harmonies and counterpoints for whatever they're playing rather than sticking to the melody, and make some mistakes in so doing but not very many.

From their reactions to various versions, Cam can determine that their aesthetics tend toward the gothic and elegant, though it's not exclusively that; they seem to quite like some flavors of gaudiness but have no tolerance for anything resembling garishness.  Synths and electric instruments and ones they haven't heard before particularly fascinate them, if the number of questions they ask about those is any indication.

Cam provides instruments, and looks up facts about instruments, and chooses grandly elaborate productions over kitchen-sink slapdash costumery. He drinks coffee in quantity.

'I would like to learn how to use a computer now,' they state after maybe a day and a half.

Cam sets them up with the nicest non-brain-surgery computer on the market and walks them through its use.

They have a bit of trouble with the interface at first but pick things up readily enough once that's overcome.