A/N: In the metaphorical timeline, this happens before the previous one-shots. In other words, this happened first.
CLICK.
BZZZZ.
He winced against the momentary tingle of electricity and cleared his throat, hoping it would remove the feeling faster than the usual two seconds. When it passed, he smiled and ran a hand through his orange hair. Oddly, he felt something that could only be described as butterflies in his stomach, a feeling he rarely experienced.
But this was no audition.
This was the final test, the live show.
He took a deep breath before smiling and turning around, addressing the group of men and women in front of him.
"Thank you all for volunteering!" His voice boomed in the small, dimly lit room, "As you all know, I am Michel Forte." They regarded him with dull interest, those eager to participate in what he had stated now tired of waiting.
Three men, three women.
A sextet.
"The money, of course, will be delivered in the mail." He continued, before a devilish smirk twisted his lips, "But first…"
He could hear the opening bars of the song begin in his mind as he lifted his hands. A single note, and they all became as stiff as statues, their eyes glazed over. He continued to hum the song as he waved and moved his hands in time, conducting the sextet as they sang.
First the females.
Then the males.
Then all together.
His foot tapped in time with the music, and the next thing he knew the sextet was suddenly dancing. He looked down at his foot in surprise before grinning, and he tapped his foot more decisively as he returned his attention to the singers (and now dancers as well).
He hadn't known he could do that…
The tap-dancing formed the bridge of the tune, and he was almost dancing himself by the time he made them stop and launch into the final chorus. He continued to conduct them, to direct them to what he wanted. He felt like a great maestro conducting not a sextet, but an entire choir and a vast orchestra, standing in front of a crowd of thousands.
When the song ended he reluctantly let them out of their trance, slowly coming back to Earth from his own thrill. He watched with curiosity as they remained still for a few more minutes, and then blinked repeatedly before finally regaining their senses, looking around with confusion.
The fantasy dissipated, the orchestra returning to the melody in his mind, the chorus returning to the sextet, the concert hall returning to the dreary and drab room.
He frowned, but then smiled.
But the audience would never leave. Soon, everyone would be his audience…