While Oliver did notice a definite change in Erik's behavior the next time they met, he wasn't quite sure if he should say anything about it. Erik was definitely a lot more attentive and kept asking Oliver if he was getting tired, if he understood what Erik was saying, if he wanted to stop and stretch - Oliver would have taken it as a relief and a sign of good will if Erik wasn't also much, much quieter otherwise. He barely said anything, barely responded to Oliver's attempts to make any kind of jokes, and spoke very quietly, as if afraid of upsetting him. Oliver, who had a healthy dose of self-respect and had so far never been seriously bothered by anything Erik could possibly say to him, found that sudden change somewhat surprising. He couldn't figure out what had happened since the last time, but he had a feeling it was something unrelated to him. He was torn between his need to leave an obviously very withdrawn man alone and not bother him, and his usual need to make people around him feel good - and Erik would have noticed how much this uneasy atmosphere was distracting Oliver, if only Erik himself wasn't distracted by his own inner turmoil. The fact Erik couldn't even tell Oliver was not on his usual level was the final straw for Oliver, and he decided that while Erik was unlikely to confide in him, he should at least try.

"Something's bothering you, Erik", Oliver finally remarked an hour later as he stretched and cracked his knuckles. He didn't even bother phrasing it as a question, and it seemed to trigger some alarm in Erik's already weary mind.

"What- why? What did I do?" he asked, sounding just a tiny bit desperate. "You're doing fantastic. Nothing is bothering me."

Oliver paused. "Really? You're satisfied with the progress so far?"

"Yes."

"I'm very happy to hear that." He's either lying or even more distraught than I thought. Oliver pushed his messy hair back and out of his eyes, then continued. "But I meant - you seem dejected. Is something wrong? If you're not feeling well, we don't have to do this. I can practice on my own for a day or two."

"I can continue."

"I'm serious. I know this is important, but I can really manage on my own for a little bit."

"I'd really like to do something right today, if you don't mind", Erik replied after a short pause.

Oliver nodded, considering that. "Certainly. I understand." he turned back to the piano, having decided not to press any further for now.

Another hour later, Oliver was gathering his things and getting ready to leave home when he decided to try just one more time and see what would happen. Erik didn't seem to be in a much better mood even as the rehearsal was obviously going better; even though Oliver gave his best to be friendly and for once repeated Erik's playing quite literally.

"This is really fun", he started, "it'll be even more fun when I join the orchestra. When were you planning on starting the orchestral rehearsals?"

"I don't know. By the end of summer, perhaps early Autumn. Heidel is in charge of assembling the orchestra, and he hasn't gathered them all yet. Not all students are here for the summer."

"Heidel? Did you agree to this, or is this his usual controlling nature?" Oliver chuckled a bit.

"No, it was my idea. He assembles the orchestra, and I'm in charge of finding the soloists."

"So, there're more soloists in this? Who? Why haven't I met them yet?"

"Because", Erik's voice wavered a bit as Oliver obviously struck a chord. "I haven't found one yet. There's only one solo part aside from yours, and the person I had in mind refused it. So now I'll have to think of someone else."

"Ah, I'm sorry." Oliver was starting to think he was getting closer. "This is your first project of this kind, isn't it? I imagine the amount of responsibility on your shoulders is quite alarming. But don't worry. I've never seen a single project go smoothly in my life, since my first recital when I was, what, seven maybe."

"What went wrong at your first recital?" Erik asked, seemingly distracted by that as his voice returned to some semblance of life.

"Well, I was seven years old, and I cried." Oliver scratched his head.

"...cried? What for?"

"I think I got embarrassed? Or stressed? Anyway, in the end I did gather myself, and it went just fine. I just remember crying behind the curtain in my music school before it started, and my grandma looking for me."

"Ah." Erik paused. Oliver couldn't tell at all what he was thinking, so he let the pause prolong a bit. "I don't know what I'm going to do without a lead violinist."

"But you won't be without a lead violinist. We'll find someone."

"I hope so. I don't really have a backup plan. Or… energy to ask someone else right now."

"Why did this violinist refuse us?" Oliver asked, tilting his head. He tried to imagine how Erik might be feeling - a shy, introverted man with a lot of responsibility and a deadline - and realized how lonely his position probably was.

"Me. He refused me. I - don't really want to talk about it. He hasn't even seen the sheet music. He refused to talk to me at all, even though I sent him letters and offered him everything I could think of." Erik took a deeper breath and a sudden impulse to tell Oliver what had happened; now that he was already being tricked into a confession he decided to at least give him the full story. He more-or-less told him what happened; Oliver listened without a word, leaning on his cane until he finally decided to sit back down. Camila would have to get used to him being late.

"What a prick", he finally decided. "That's completely inappropriate. You didn't do anything rude to him; he obviously has some personal problems."

"I have to tell you, this is how people normally react to me."

"Really? Why?" Oliver blurted out in surprise, then stopped himself. "You know what? Don't answer that. What's important is that", now I finally understand why you're so uptight around everyone, "that we will find a good violinist with or without this man. We're all in this together, you don't have to do everything by yourself. I can ask around, if you want."

"I- thank you", Erik let out a surprised breath. "I don't really know many musicians in this city, personally, and I don't want to repeat this process again with someone who sees me for the first time."

"No problem. Well, I have to go home now", Oliver decided. "Are you staying?"

"Huh? No, no. I'm done for today."

"Good, good. Let's get some rest. Tomorrow, same place, same time? I'm really looking forward to these rehearsals every day", Oliver chirped cheerfully as he led Erik through the hallways and outside into the street. He wished him a friendly goodbye and went on his way home.

He was halfway home when he finally decided to turn around and go back. Something in this story didn't add up, something felt awfully unfinished, and if Erik wasn't eager to talk to him openly he would have to get some context elsewhere. Oliver walked right back into the Conservatory not half an hour later, walked the stairs to the third floor, and knocked on the door of Heidel's office hoping to satisfy his curiosity.

"Good afternoon", two days later Oliver's voice chirped in his usual manner through an empty hallway of a cold Brooklyn building, his unseeing eyes facing the man at the door through messy bangs. "Do I have the pleasure of meeting mr. Daniel Jonsson?"

Daniel was in a bad mood and had "fuck off" at the tip of his tongue already, but seeing the man confused him slightly; more so because he had the feeling he knew him somehow. "That's me", he retorted.

"Hello, then, my name is Oliver and it's quite possible we may have seen each other already, however, don't take it personally if I don't recognize you when I should. I don't see much of anybody these days", he shrugged his shoulders in a very innocent gesture, holding his cane in his hand. "In any case, we went to the same college, and I've come here on behalf of our common friends. Can I come in?"

"Unlikely", Daniel frowned. "I can't say I have any friends from college."

"But maybe you do, you just didn't realize it before", Olly shook his head to shake off the loose hair itching his face and extended his hand to Daniel. "Or, maybe you're about to make some. You can call me Olly."

"Dan", he said, shaking his hand carefully. Unsure what to do with the blind man chirping cordially at his doorstep with no intention of leaving, he moved and gestured inside so that Oliver could pass. When Oliver didn't move, Dan finally realized he couldn't see him.

"Sir, you can come inside."

"If you call me sir one more time I might just go deaf as well", Oliver waved his finger at him and stepped carefully over the doorstep. "Now, just please warn me if I'm about to reach some stairs or trip on something. I wouldn't want to knock over a family heirloom."

"It's just an empty hallway. Living room is to the right", Dan said awkwardly. Oliver tapped his cane in front of him, then turned right into the living room and stopped, turning to wait for Dan.

"The couch is on your right, a few steps ahead. Do you want a drink?" Dan asked, painfully aware it was still too early for most people to drink. He was momentarily thankful that the man couldn't notice what a mess his apartment was. Daniel's daily living skills hadn't really improved much since he was in college.

"Sure. It's six-o-clock somewhere", Oliver laughed. He could sense this kid's confusion, and hoped to diffuse the tension at least a little - if this continued on for too long, he might get too frustrated to do what he was here to do.

Daniel poured a little bit of brandy in two glasses and put them on the table, sitting across from Oliver and waited for a second before speaking. "Why are- that is, how can I help you?"

"I was hoping to meet you and have a chat. I heard a rumor you were very desperately wanted for a certain project I'm a part of", Oliver said cheerfully, sipping the brandy. Oh god. This kid must be so young. I can't fathom why someone would drink this brandy unless he had no money or didn't know any better. "In any case, I also heard we were colleagues from the same Academy, though I think we probably missed each other. It's been around ten years since I graduated."

"Right", Daniel said, growing slightly annoyed. "You've got the wrong idea - I don't have anything to do with the Academy anymore. I do independent projects now, and only with small bands."

"Oh no, I know that, don't worry", Oliver laughed. "I'm not here on the behalf of the Academy. I haven't had any ties to them either in the past ten years - I do private gigs for hotels and restaurants. You know, they pay me a wonderful amount of money to do whatever I please as long as it fills the silence."

"Right, yeah", Daniel said. He actually worked one of those contracts for a very short time himself, but quit due to the fact he got bored to death after just a few months - he was given no instructions for the first time in his life, just a vague 'don't be too loud or distracting', and it drove him crazy - somehow he managed to always be too distracting no matter what he did, unless he completely shut down and played the most boring thing he could think of. Keeping that job was not worth the cost of alcohol required to keep him sane. "To be fair, I tried that, but it was pretty boring."

"You didn't like it?" Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Well, yes, it can be pretty boring. Most of the establishments are somewhat narrow-minded. I had to wait very long until I found a place where I liked playing, but now - they just sit me by the piano and say, Olly, do whatever it is that you do until midnight, and then you get snacks and whiskey. I do like snacks."

"Good for you", Dan said, then realized how that sounded. "I mean - I wasn't being sarcastic. It's good that you like it." This man's name was starting to seem familiar to him - there was a certain urban legend, back in the Academy, of a student who progressively lost his eyesight over the years and played his graduation concert almost completely blind, having learned the entire concert by heart including his own parts, the rest of the orchestra, and the conductor's instructions. Daniel never really believed it - college students loved to gossip stories about their professors and upper classmates, and embellished them generously at every retelling. He himself was in some of those stories, and he hated it.

"It's funny to me, you know?" Oliver said. "Back when I was in college I remember Heidel, Anderson and Sterling - he was my mentor back then, head of the piano department - all yelling at me to take it more seriously and learn to listen to cues, goddamnit Riley, this isn't a bar, you can't just go off on a tangent and keep improvising for an hour. Turns out, you really can! And it's just, incredibly lucrative!" Oliver clapped his hands, laughing. "When I first told Fritz Heidel where I work, he just gave me this, just, the longest sigh in human history and told me I'll never mature as a person now. Hah!"

"That does sound like something Heidel would say", Dan groaned. "Jonsson, I know you have a lot of feelings but the word 'moderato' only has one and it's not the one you're doing right now! Look at me while I'm conducting!"

"Oh God", Oliver dragged his hands over his face. "I mean, I love Heidel, but he can be just so… unnecessarily mean, you know? There's no real reason for this assault on my character, sir! I admit, I got drunk last night and forgot to practice! Put me in the Prison for Bad Musicians!"

"I don't think Heidel does anything but think sophisticated thoughts about serious and beautiful music", Daniel rolled his eyes, laughing a little as well.

"Oh, he does seem like that", Oliver nodded. "But you know, when I needed him most, Fritz gave his all to help me graduate, even though I was rapidly losing what little eyesight I had, and it was becoming apparent how unlikely it would be for me to stay there. I was so close to falling into despair and giving up - and he made sure I had everything I needed to graduate. I think it was a precedent in the old Academy, to go so far out of their way to accommodate me, and it's all his doing." he puffed a little. "Even if he bullied me every step of the way. Oliver, just because you're going blind, doesn't mean I'll tolerate you falling out of tempo- ugh."

"Good for you", Daniel replied, this time making no effort to conceal his sarcasm. "I can't say he extended that sort of effort to the rest of us. I'm not the only one who wants nothing to do with the Academy anymore." It was only after the words left his mouth that he realized what he'd said - yes, well, the rest of us could see and some of us had nobody to blame but ourselves - some of us may not have accepted help even if it was offered -

Oliver straightened and stopped laughing. "That was his mistake, yes. He should have helped you, too. I'm sorry he didn't. Blindness isn't the only ailment that can befall a man, and some are less obvious than others. We gain nothing by pushing students to the brink of sanity. Musicians shouldn't have an expiration date."

Daniel kept silent for almost a minute. "I'm sorry. That was… I must have left my head in my ass when I woke up this morning. I meant no offense."

"None taken, buddy. Academy does sometimes eat its own children - I've seen it happen to others, especially those that couldn't take the pressure. Personally, it never bothered me what my teachers thought of me - maybe that was why I was spared. They'd get mad and yell a little, then we'd find some compromise, I'd get my grades up so I can keep getting my scholarship money and we'd all go on our merry way. But a lot of my friends weren't so lucky." he sighed. "Some of them didn't even finish. Just went into a completely different profession. What a shame."

"Well, they got out in time, because it's just the same after you graduate", Daniel spoke feverishly, waving his hands. "I thought at least once you get the stupid diploma from the goddamn New York Academy of Music you can do what you want - but no, it's just more people telling you exactly what to do and how and how to properly play music like a real musician. And not just that, how to properly stand like a real musician, how to properly dress, how to speak and who to spend time with - it's just bullshit all the way down!" he couldn't stop himself for some reason - Daniel had spent a lot of time complaining bitterly to his classmates how bored and stressed he was at the same time, but seeing as he was one of the top of his class nobody really took him seriously; people thought him some kind of eccentric, whiny genius and usually dismissed his complaints. "Ever since I was a kid, my parents, they are both in the Philharmonic - it was always Daniel this, Daniel that, Daniel stop playing and go practice, Daniel you'll never get into a proper school if you keep making a fool of yourself - apparently, there is some strict set of rules for how you're supposed to be acting every second of the day since you're born in order to be a real musician, but whatever it is it always eludes me! Why do I need to stand like a fucking candle and wear a suit and play with perfect seriousness and poise and talk stupid shit about the mathematical complexity of Bach when, in fact, I don't really like Bach! I like travelling Romani bands a lot more than ninety percent of Bach!" he finished, suddenly feeling very ashamed of his outburst.

"Bach does sometimes sound like a freight train going at a steady pace", Oliver admitted. "Then I suppose, more modern music is more up your alley? More romanticism, feeling, expressiveness?"

"Something like that", Daniel shrugged. "You know, I wouldn't mind playing Bach either if they just let me show any sign of life while I'm doing it."

"Of course", Oliver grinned at him. "But then you wouldn't be showing your appreciation for his mathematical complexity, would you?"

"God forbid somebody failed to mention that."

"I now understand why Erik wants you so badly as a soloist", Oliver suddenly mentioned. "It's very emotionally expressive music he makes, almost makes you feel unreal - it might be right up your alley."

"Erik?" Daniel blinked. "Who?"

"Erik Giry? Heidel's new pet project? Didn't he come to you recently?"

"Oh, Giry", Daniel frowned. "I forgot about that. Yeah, I already said no, sorry."

"You refused?" Oliver feigned surprise and disappointment. "But I was looking forward to it! We could be on the same team, wreaking havoc and annoying Heidel!"

"Heidel isn't leading it, Giry is. It's his symphony." Daniel paused. "I'm not sure how he got so much freedom seeing as he's a nobody. Aside from conducting it, Heidel won't really get that involved in the making of it."

"Fritz may have gone soft in his old days", Oliver smiled. "I can't believe you refused. Erik - we all call him Erik, you don't have to bother with the last name - talked all day about how much he wanted you there; apparently he heard you play in some string quartet six months ago and already decided back then. But you didn't hear that from me", he finished smoothly.

"Giry talks exactly like someone who thinks he invented music himself", Daniel burst. "He wants people to just listen to what he wants and make it exactly so; I bet if he could single handedly play all of the instruments himself, he'd gladly do it, and then say that he's the only one who does it right."

Oliver burst out laughing. "Yes, that's exactly the impression he gives. And it's not that far off from the truth. He has a very specific idea for this concert, and it means a lot to him."

"Exactly. I don't need someone scrutinizing me and barking orders at me all day because I started a millisecond too early and ruined the suspense or something", Daniel mumbled. "He looks like he might start correcting my posture at any second."

"Oh, I've actually had the pleasure to start working with him already", Oliver bit his lip. "As you can probably guess, I can't read sheet music. Erik is personally teaching me my part of the symphony, for two hours, every day except Sunday."

"And?" Daniel couldn't help his curiosity.

"Well, he does get very stubborn when something is especially important to him - and when we start rehearsing, he doesn't know when to stop until you very directly tell him you've had enough and can't sit for another minute. But he does try. He left some of the parts for me to improvise on, or interpret in my own way - he said it's much more important to him that we all play it like we mean it, rather than just repeat the motions blindly." Oliver smiled. "Which, of course, doesn't mean he tolerates mistakes in the slightest. And it's a pretty challenging piece, I can tell you that. In any case, have you heard any of it yet?"

"No, not really", Daniel admitted. "I just… really disliked him, and refused on the spot. I didn't want another stuck-up maestro at my back with a whip and endless snide remarks."

"Oh, I'd like to see him dare", Oliver smiled sweetly, tapping his fingers on his cane. "He knows he's a nobody as much as we do - all that's stopping his orchestra from falling apart is the beauty of the symphony and our - mine and Heidel's and the orchestra's - loyalty. But I'm telling you that in confidence. If you snitch on me, I'll be very disappointed."

Daniel remained silent for a moment. "In any case, I already said no. I don't think he'd accept me now - he looks much too proud for that." he didn't think it necessary to mention his own behavior did nothing to help; either Oliver knew about it or would find out soon enough.

"Oh, his pride will most certainly be hurt. But that doesn't mean he'll refuse." Oliver stood up. "In any case, I've bothered you long enough. Thanks for your time - no, don't get up, I can find my way now - thanks for your time, and thanks for entertaining me with some juicy academic gossip. I hope to meet you again, if nothing else, in the audience when we're performing the symphony. Though it will be a shame if another fellow has to take your place, as I'm sure he wouldn't do as good of a job." He walked out of the room, smiling to himself at the deafening, panicked silence that ensued as he was leaving. He knew that last part - have fun watching us from the audience - would strike a chord with any musician, and soon enough, Daniel stumbled out of the room behind him and asked,

"What can I do, though?"

"Oh?" Oliver turned back. "Just go back to him and tell him you've changed your mind. That should be enough. And try not to tell him to fuck off again, though I understand the appeal of it", he winked at Daniel, thankfully unable to see the young man blushing violently. He rummaged through his pockets and took out a small piece of paper. "That's his address - you can also talk to Heidel, of course, but if you're not ready to face two giant egos at the same time, you can just go to Erik directly. I'm sure he'll be very happy about you joining us. Now, I really have to rush. My wife gets very worried when I'm late, which is always, and I'd really like to stop making her mad."

Skyscrapers and busy streets changed to little houses and huts in the immigrant part of Coney Island as Daniel tried to make his way around the part of New York he'd really never been in before. Not that his own, tiny, cramped apartment in Brooklyn was any better than these - at least these people seemed to have gardens and trees, something Dan missed dearly in his day-to-day life - but people here seemed different, slightly suspicious of him as they whispered in a language he couldn't understand. He was actually impressed by how good the village looked - immigrants usually lived in the outskirts, in poorly-made and even worse maintained houses with very little electricity and running water; but this particular part seemed to be flourishing. Either its residents were profiting greatly from the new amusement parks being built around town, or some other force had managed to get funding from the city council. Either way, houses looked neat, roads were wide enough, and streetlights looked like they were well-maintained; Daniel even saw public fountains which made him think the village was hooked up on the city's plumbing system. It was all very quaint, really. Daniel clutched the violin case in his hand as he walked.

It didn't take him long to find a small house on the edge of the village, not very ornate but incredibly cozy-looking (with the exception of weirdly heavy bolts on the door and windows). It didn't have much of a garden, only a few bushes of forget-me-nots around it that seemed to be having a life of their own. Behind the house, he could see an empty plot of land full of dandelions. Daniel grew up in a luxurious house with a manicured lawn where his parents still lived, and he couldn't imagine someone just letting dandelions grow behind their house; they were invasive and spread quickly, and were generally considered a pest. He took a minute to admire their bright, yellow color from a distance as he gathered his courage to knock.

"Just a minute!" he heard a cheerful voice from inside, and a tall, pretty, dark-haired woman opened the door swiftly, smiling at him with contagious warmth.

"I- may have the wrong address, sorry", he mumbled in confusion. "I was looking for Mr. Giry."

"Mr. Giry? Oh, you mean Erik!" she laughed. "Yes, he lives here, he should be back soon. And, if I may, who's asking?"

"I'm Daniel Jonsson", he replied. "I- we recently spoke about an audition for a solo violinist." That was close enough to the truth, anyway.

"Nice to meet you, mr. Jonsson, I'm Alina Boričević, you can call me Alina", she shook his hand politely. "He's just taking our neighbor's son home, he should be back right away - would you like to come in? I just made some lemonade", she finished, extending her arm to invite him in.

"Oh. Sure", Daniel said. "Thank you, ma'am." hoping she wouldn't notice he didn't quite remember her foreign name, he stepped over the doorstep, taking in the interior - the neat little furniture, the warm kitchen, the ornate harpsichord in the corner and the absolute mass of paper stars hanging from the ceiling oh God what are those -

"Don't worry about those", the young woman said, following his gaze. "They won't fall on your head, they've been there for a while now. Please, sit."

Daniel sat obediently, laying his violin case down with care as the woman produced a large pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

"I like the wildflowers behind your house", he told her. He felt slightly awkward; the woman couldn't have been that much older than him but something about her motherly behaviour reminded him so much of the nanny who watched him as a kid that he reverted to some older, less cynical version of himself against his will. (It was an effect Alina often had on people, and it was very much intentional - but to be fair, Daniel had no way of knowing that.)

"Oh, the dandelions?" she laughed. "You know, one day they just started growing and then before I knew it the whole area was full of them. I don't mind - I like their color, and you can make very sweet syrup out of them. Technically, that little plot of land doesn't belong to anybody, so it's not like they're bothering anyone."

"Yes, it's nice", he agreed, sipping his lemonade and feeling like a child. "Thank you for the drink, ma'am - it's refreshing on such a hot day."

As he talked, the heavy door opened and his future boss - his future boss oh God walked inside quietly, dressed in all black as usual with that eerie white mask over his face. He smiled at the woman, then went serious again as he noticed Daniel.

"Mr. Jonsson", he stated calmly as yellow eyes fixed Daniel on the spot like a bug under a microscope. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Oliver gave me your address", he blurted out. The man still gave him the creeps - it wasn't his appearance, or his quiet deep voice; it had to be some air around Erik that made Daniel think he was at all times just a step away from snapping or lashing out at him, like he noticed everything that was wrong about Daniel with detailed scrutiny and would list it all under slightest excuse. The evident stiff self-control in his demeanor made it actually worse. If cutting him off and sending him away angrily on his own doorstep was hard, sitting in Erik's kitchen and attempting to talk politely was infinitely worse. "He- he said I should come talk to you directly."

"I'm sure Oliver had good reasons", Erik's terrifying gaze softened a bit. "Darling", he turned to the woman, "I'm sorry, are we bothering you if we talk here?"

"Not at all. I'll be in my room if you need me", she said sweetly and excused herself, leaving Daniel alone with the goddamn Minotaur currently sizing him up for dinner.

Taking out another glass, Erik sat on the chair directly across from him and poured himself some lemonade, without drinking any. "Well. I see that Alina has already made sure you feel comfortable. Whatever you'd like to say, I'm listening", he finished, leaning quietly on the back of his own chair.

"I spoke to Oliver Riley today. He told me you still don't have your solo violinist", Daniel started, wondering how he'd navigate his way out of this in the least painful manner.

"I don't. You are the only one I asked for specifically, and you refused." Erik replied matter-of-factly, letting the uncomfortable silence spread around them. Daniel would have tried to wiggle out of it with a half-apology or spin the situation to make it easier, but it was hard to do when Erik spoke so bluntly.

"Right", he said. "Well… I just came by to apologize for being rude, that is all. I'm sorry."

Erik looked at him for a second like he couldn't believe Daniel assumed him stupid enough to believe that was really it, then bowed his head down slightly. "Apology accepted."

"I mean, I just wanted to say - you caught me at a bad time, I wouldn't normally react that way, in fact I normally don't, I just didn't expect it at all- " he fumbled, until Erik raised his hand to interrupt him.

"Stop. I said it's fine. I won't hold it against you. People are rude sometimes, including me, and I understand. I don't care why you said what you said to me back then, but I appreciate you coming all this way to say you're sorry."

"Oh, because-"

"Like I said, I don't care about your reasons. We can stop talking about it now", Erik said, looking like he'd really love to stop talking about it now.

Daniel shut his mouth and stared at Erik in frustrated silence.

"Is there anything else you'd like to discuss with me?" Erik tilted his head slightly, his yellow eyes drilling holes in Daniel's skull.

"Yes", Daniel managed through gritted teeth, growing increasingly annoyed.

"Please, then, I'm listening."

"Well", Daniel pulled out of himself word by word, much to Erik's silent amusement, "Oliver Riley told me today that you still need a solo violinist, and I could use a new gig, and he told me I'd probably be good for the part. He also told me he heard your music and that he thinks I'd really like it", he finished.

"That's very kind of Oliver", Erik said, keeping a very serious demeanor aside from one corner of his mouth twitching ever-so-slightly upwards.

Daniel stared at Erik as the latter practically emanated smug satisfaction, realizing Erik won't help him at all and won't quit until Daniel said it himself, plain and simple.

"In that case, if the position is still open, I'd like to audition for it", he squeezed out furiously. He wondered if he could set Erik on fire by looking at him hard enough, before Erik did it to him first.

Erik looked at him thoughtfully for a second or two. Daniel wondered if he was considering toying with him a little more, when Erik straightened in his seat and said in earnesty, "No need to audition. The spot is yours, if you want it."

"I-" Daniel backed away in surprise at the sudden change in the eerie man's demeanor. "What? Just like that? I brought my violin- "

"I've heard you play before, I know you can do it", Erik said, opening one of his desk drawers to rummage through his papers. "The only question is whether you want to. Here's a sample from the first movement - take a look at it, no, not now. Take a look at it when you're home and decide if you like it. It's not easy, in fact, it's quite difficult. If you like it, you'll probably like the rest as well. If you don't like it, you'll get sick of it before the end of this week, probably, so you don't have to bother in that case." he held out the papers in his hand to Daniel, who hesitantly took them.

"Okay", he said, looking at the papers in his hand.

"When you decide, you can come to either me or Heidel, and then we'll start. If you decide to join us. That is all." Erik said, holding out his hands in a peaceful and surprisingly shy gesture. "Do you have questions?"

"I- no", Daniel said, holding the papers carefully. "You want me to get through this by the end of this week?" he did have some performances scheduled for the weekend, and it was far too late to cancel them- it was already Thursday.

"Do you have better things to do?" Erik said by reflex and tilted his head, then suddenly realized he said that exact sentence to someone long ago, remembered how that went and regretted it immediately.

Luckily, Daniel was having none of that and he straightened in his seat angrily. "Actually, I do. Things I can't cancel if I want to be able to buy food and pay bills this week. I can assure you my performance will be much more to your liking if I'm not hungry and homeless. Sir."

"That's fair. I overstepped a line." Erik nodded. "In that case, next week, if you can. I'd really prefer to have started all rehearsals by this time next month."

"Erik?" Alina peeked out of the room as soon as Jonsson left and Erik locked the door behind him.

"Yes, darling?" he asked softly.

"Is that little baby boy your friend?" Alina asked, trying to contain her smile.

"I… god damn it, Alina," he shook his head. "He's young, but he's a grown man. He's my soloist."

"Oh but he's so delightful!" Alina pressed her hands to her cheeks, turning behind her. "Amelija! Erik adopted a spoiled little prince! Little lord Fauntleroy as a pet! Pale and neurotic, and dying to prove himself!"

"I'm noticing a pattern here", Amelija grumbled.

"Did he give you any trouble before I got here?" Erik asked seriously.

"No, absolutely not. He sat there like a little bird and commented how he likes the dandelions around our house", Alina laughed. "I can't believe he came all the way across town to apologize to you! I was halfway expecting him to bring chocolates and a flower bouquet!"

"Alina, if I came home and saw him talking to you holding chocolates and a flower bouquet, we'd be hiding a dead body right now", he said matter-of-factly. "Well, apparently, he can be civil with both Oliver and you. That's a good start." he just can't be civil with me, for whatever reason.

"Of course he can. We're not his strict genius boss", Alina replied. "He wants to impress you so badly it's practically oozing off of him - but he's just so stubborn and proud, there is just no way he'll ever admit it."

"I hope you're right", Erik scratched his temple. "Your eavesdropping habit is proving more useful than I thought."

"I can't believe you didn't let him play for us", Amelija's voice sounded from her room.

"Absolutely not. None of us are ready for that", Erik shook his head. "He would have done it to apologize, or to prove something, I don't know. All I know is that he was obviously dreading it, and so was I, and it would've been a disaster. He's not allowed to play a single note in front of me until I figure out what I'm going to do about the obvious", he nodded at Alina. "I need your help."

"With what?"

"This little Pechorin1 needs a lot of practice, from what I've heard, until he's ready for a more serious concert. There's a lot of potential there, but he's completely rusty. Somebody is going to have to supervise him, and it definitely won't be Heidel - they have some sort of personal issue, I don't care. In any case", he sighed, "I need your advice. I have no idea what to do with him. He'll crumble if I push him too hard, but pushing is exactly what he needs to get out of this lazy, bitter complacency."

"You want me to teach you how to manipulate students into doing their best?" Alina laughed.

"Oh, I know how to do that. I want you to show me how to do it without antagonizing them."

1 Grigory Pechorin, protagonist of the famous Russian novel Hero of Our Time, by Mikhail Lermontov. This comparison is absolutely not a compliment, although not necessarily an insult. It's complicated.