"Welcome, young man," Mr. Felidae greeted as Autor entered the salle. "I appreciate your coming on such short notice."
"Not a problem, sir," Autor said, looking over the short, squat man.
"We need a pianist starting next week for the girls' advanced ballet class," he said. "I know you've played here before, and have a rehearsal set of your own, but I was hoping you'd pick and choose from our pre-approved list?"
"I have," Autor says, glancing at the instrument. "And I have no problem with that, or learning new songs."
Mr. Felidae smiled, and Autor adjusted his glasses. I almost miss the Mr. Cat. This one is boring.
"Excellent," the teacher said, and offered him a folder. "So I was thinking that you could look over these ones, and if you want to make your own set from them or add to them, by all means let me know."
"I will."
"Excuse me," a girl said. "Do you have a moment, Mr. Felidae?"
Autor blinked at the source of the familiar voice, surprised to see the broad-shouldered brunette from the library standing in the doorway.
"Ah, yes, please come in," the teacher said and then turned to Autor. "Is there anything else you need?"
"No, sir," Autor said, and met fierce brown eyes and a stubborn frown. Strange, he thought, as he left the prima ballerina to discuss her set with Mr. Felidae. Most girls are shorter than I am.