[There's a mental sort of snort.]

I already know how to do that. It's called filtering, I learned how to do it centuries ago to keep from going insane from everything.

[And he starts narrowing things down, rather swiftly for a mess like that. First he filters out most of the sounds, focusing instead on his own breathing. The rest grows distant, still there but not overwhelming. Sight doesn't require any fixing, just a concerted effort to ignore the slight movement of the curtains; his vision, while not great close up, is very focused on movement, and has a dim blind spot to his right, where his bad eye is.

Then, the important part, he starts filtering out the scents: his own, the piano itself, the people just outside the room in the hall, then the layers of scents on the piano itself. There are probably half a dozen that have been laid on the piano since the sabotage, and he has to sort each one out and mentally set it aside, until what Laughs can smell most strongly is a faint and faded mix of cotton and copper.]

There. That. Is that focused enough for you to find the scent again?