Chapter Text
Mornings for Sandrone have always been a sacred thing. ‘The start of your day determines its direction’ or something like that. A simple, and carefully manicured ritual. Seven fifteen alarm, with a generous ten minutes to contemplate the ordeal of getting up. A quick scalding shower while her bagel toasted in the kitchen. Listening to the sounds of the city waking up around her while she sipped black coffee on the couch. Quiet. Consistent. Just the way she liked it.
But today, a harsh series of knocks on her door was what jolted her awake. Sandrone’s eyes cracked open, sunlight just starting to peek through the window. It was absolutely too early for anyone to be causing such a racket outside of her apartment. Whoever was on the other side of the door was in for a proper verbal lashing. She searched the space next to her face for her phone, and flipped it over to check the time. Six thirty. Great.
Waking up hit her all at once. Cheek stuck to the spread of papers on her desk, back in agony, and legs feeling like static. The blueprint she was working on last night peeled off her face as she sat up, and unceremoniously landed on her desk. Sandrone grimaced. Her morning was doomed, even without the pest at the door. She was too old to be falling asleep in a cheap office chair, she wasn't a college student anymore that could pull all-nighters every other day. With a groan she stood up, and stretched her protesting joints. Whoever was knocking was getting impatient and saying something, but it was muffled through the wall.
“I’M COMING! Gods, can you quit with the banging?” Sandrone shouted. It was too early for her blood pressure to be rising like this. Warm light filled the hallway as she hit the lightswitch and shuffled towards her entryway.
“No need to yell,” a voice scolded, followed by the click of her door shutting.
Nefer walked in, key swinging on her fingertips. A look of amusement as she looked Sandrone up and down.
“My, you look worse for wear. Didn’t sleep well?”
“What is the point in knocking if you are just going to waltz in anyways? I should report you for breaking and entering,” Sandrone muttered. The woman looked like she was on her way to work, a crisp suit and dangerous looking heels. Sandrone shuffled past her with a grumble towards the kitchen counter to start the coffee maker.
Typically when Nefer visited, it would be a reasonable hour and with prior warning. A call or a text saying she’d drop by. The two continued to keep in touch after Nefer helped settle the will and legal processes after Alain died. Sandrone had found her after a few searches on the internet, and the reviews of her intensity and thoroughness resonated. Just what Sandrone needed. They butted heads, but Nefer was always reliably there through everything. Even if it wasn’t necessarily legal related. It was unexpected that she became the biggest pillar of support through the transition of being on her own. Nefer would always say she would charge extra for extended visits to her apartment, but the expenses never showed up on Sandrone’s invoices. It’s been years now, but Nefer would always find a reason to check up on her. Sometimes, she even brings her high energy assistant with her. Jahoda was definitely a character, a few years younger than Sandrone… Not someone that she expected Nefer to pick up. Endearing, in some ‘that’s our idiot’ kind of way.
“You can hardly call it breaking and entering when you’ve given me a key,” Nefer smiled, and leaned on Sandrone’s counter, looking at her like a cat eyeing a wayward mouse.
“Why are you giving me that weird look? And why are you here so early?” Sandrone asked warily. An unscheduled visit and predatory look was a combo that never boded well.
“I have an offer for you. One I think that you might be quite interested in,” Nefer started, eyes shifting to something behind Sandrone.
“One that couldn’t wait until, I don’t know, a normal hour?” Puzzled by Nefer’s pointed stare, she turned around to see what it was that she was looking at.
A grand piano sat in the corner of the room, papers scattered on its music stand. Keys that were well worn from loving hands, scratches made years ago from little accidents here and there. Even with its inconvenient size, it was something that she would take with her wherever she ended up. Playing was an escape, allowing her to let go of whatever was going on and get lost somewhere else. Submerged in melodies that pushed away the stress and strain of uncertainties and dead ends with her research. It was just a hobby. Or, it was now.
Sandrone turned back to Nefer who glanced between her and the piano with a scheming expression.
“What is that look supposed to mean? My piano? I’m not selling it,” Sandrone snapped, narrowing her eyes at her company. Nefer let out a surprised laugh, and shook her head.
“No, that’s not it at all. You still practice, yes? When I met you, you were perhaps the most talented pianist I’d ever met,” Nefer asked, folding her arms.
Sandrone puffed up defensively.
“Of course, I’d never waste all the effort I’ve put in all these years. Why? Stop being so cryptic.”
“An acquaintance of mine is in a tight spot, looking for a pianist to accompany her talent for their tour,” Nefer started. Sandrone quickly opened her mouth, but Nefer quickly put a finger up to shush her.
“Hold on. The tour is a month, eight shows total across Teyvat. You’d have all travel expenses covered, and would be expected to attend rehearsals before the concerts,” Nefer continued. Finally, Sandrone got a word in.
“No. Absolutely not. I’ve told you that I have no interest in doing any kind of performances or whatever. It’s a hobby now. Hobby,” She emphasized heavily. In the past, before Alain’s passing, she would have leapt at the opportunity. But that was a long time ago. Becoming a renowned pianist was a dream for a child who still had stars in her eyes.
“What if I told you they are willing to pay you two thousand five hundred per performance?”
Now that made Sandrone pause.
“I’m sorry. How much?” Surely she misheard.
“Oh, I have your attention now, right?” Nefer hummed with amusement, tapping her sharp nails against the counter
“You are so obnoxious! Just repeat yourself like a normal person!” Sandrone seethed, and stomped her foot.
“Now, that’s not a nice way to speak to someone who’s offering you a twenty thousand dollar opportunity,” she purred.
Twenty thousand dollars?
“That is an absurd amount for a job like that. Is this some kind of money laundering scheme?! I know that you sometimes have your ‘non traditional’ lawyer methods, but—”
“Sandrone, you know I’d never direct you to something so untowards. It is simply just playing the piano at a few concerts,” Nefer assured.
“Why would they pay so much? That’s ridiculous.”
“Let’s just say… This vocalist has the money to back up the offer. They’re in a situation, and there are no options left.” Nefer shrugged.
Who the hell would have that much money to pay a simple pianist? For just eight shows? There had to be some catch. But, if there wasn’t…
It was just the amount she needed to fund a fully functional proto type of her personal project. One that she could show investors, and they’d finally give her the time of day. The assistant automaton design she’d called Pulonia. Development of the design, programming, and blueprints for building had occupied her for the last few years. But, currently she couldn’t get any further with what she had. Sandrone wasn’t someone with a spare ten thousand dollars or two for the materials and hardware necessary to build such a complex intelligent robot.
But there was still something she didn’t understand.
“Why me? Surely there are actual professionals who do this as a living who would be a better fit. And will you finally tell me why you needed to tell me this as soon as the sun rose?”
“You’re the only prodigy available that would make these circumstances work, since the tour begins this weekend. In two days,” Nefer stated, as if it wasn’t absolutely insane.
“TWO DAYS?”
“And they’re original compositions that you’ll need to learn. I don’t know anyone else who could make such a tight schedule,” Nefer added.
All Sandrone could do was just stare incredulously at the woman standing across from her. Does she think she's some kind of miracle worker?!
“Is this a prank? Are you pranking me? Maybe I will call the police,” Sandrone was just about fed up with the absurdity of it all.
“I wouldn’t waste my time playing such a distasteful prank,” Nefer chided, “so, what do you say?”
“I have to decide right now?!” Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperated.
“Clock’s ticking. Don’t think you can do it?” Nefer challenged.
“Are you seriously goading me into this?!”
The worst part was that it always worked. There was nothing Sandrone hated more than people underestimating her. The amount of money was simply too good to be true as well, if this offer was real. Being in between jobs, she had the time to do it. There was a shuffle, Nefer reached into her bag. Sheets of paper.
“I have the music sheets right here, if you want to get started,” she waved them in front of Sandrone with the look of someone who’d already won.
“I truly cannot stand you,” Sandrone grumbled as she snatched the papers out of her hands. She quickly scanned over the composition, sounding out the melody in her mind. The writing was elegant, and below the notes were lyrics in a language that was completely unfamiliar to her. How interesting. It was infuriating that she was already itching to learn it.
“I’ll let them know then. My acquaintance will reach out to you soon with more details about rehearsals and bookings for travel,” Nefer replied, already opening the door to leave. Voice content with her victory.
Damn that woman.
“Knowing you, I’m sure you’re getting something out of this too?”
“A favor owed is always something that’s good to have, Sandrone.”
Not much later, Sandrone was poring over the compositions, testing how they felt on her fingertips. The songs were gentle but surprisingly dense, certainly not something that would be easy for a novice. Very atmospheric, fluid and warm. There were several scrawled notes in the margins about specific transitions, it looked like they were written by the one who usually accompanied the vocalist.
The vocalist, who was finally named by her manager over the phone only a few minutes after Nefer had left the apartment. It was scary how fast that woman worked…
Her phone vibrated on the kitchen counter as she poured steaming coffee into a mug.
An unfamiliar number. She tapped the answer button and set it on speaker to continue making her breakfast.
“Hello?” Sandrone answered, a little stiff. Too many conversations too early.
“Hello! This is Lauma, talent manager for Miss Columbina. I was given your contact information by Nefer, is this Miss Sandrone Guillotin?” The voice was soft and polite. Columbina. So that was her name.
“Yes, this is. This isn’t something that I would normally agree to, but I was told there would be a large compensation. Is that true?” Sandrone got straight to the point, she didn’t have any interest in beating around the bush or small talk.
“Oh, yes, that’s correct! We are extremely thankful that you’ve agreed to help us! Nefer informed me that you’ve already been given the music sheets for this weekend's performance,” Lauma started, quietly typing in the background.
“I’ve already drafted a contract that I hope will be agreeable. Nefer also provided me with your email, so I’ve sent a copy to you. I’d be happy to discuss any concerns or changes you’d like to make, otherwise you can sign it and send it back,” Lauma continued.
“If you are available, we would like to have an introductory rehearsal tomorrow afternoon, if you feel confident enough to play the–”
“I’ll be able to play it tomorrow. Just tell me where to meet for the practice,” Sandrone interrupted.
“Right, of course. I’ve included the address in the email, we will be at the Khuuvaki concert hall downtown in Nasha. We will begin the rehearsal at two,” Lauma stumbled, but held her professional tone.
Slightly muffled in the background of Lauma’s typing, a voice broke through calling for her.
“Auntie Lauma, Ineffa is cheating again! She keeps sneaking monopoly money into her bank! Tell her that cheating is bad and that she has to wear my stupid idiot hat that I made!” A young voice whined.
“Aino, I’m in an important phone call, please give me a few minutes,” Lauma quietly scolded the voice. Sandrone couldn’t help but let an amused scoff escape as she sipped her coffee.
“I am so sorry about that. Please take a look at the contract, and I hope to see you tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Sandrone wasn’t one to half ass anything, so the rest of the day was solely dedicated to learning the music. There were three compositions, two of them a bit long.
Flipping through the sheets again, a feeling of dread settled in. This was going to take all day and all night. She dragged a hand down her face, walking over to the kitchen to make a second cup of coffee before she continued to work through the afternoon.
It was around midnight that she felt ninety percent confident in each of the pieces. It was about fourteen hours of practicing and experimenting with the movement and adjustments that the notes detailed. Lauma had sent a recording of the songs with just the piano accompaniment, the vocals themselves, and a recording of both together. Sandrone had just focused on the piano section first before even bothering listening to the final piece with both elements. In hindsight, maybe a little unwise, but she wanted to perfect the technical movements and sound of the piano’s part before listening to anything that would distract from the piano.
She scrolled through the attachments in the email, and opened the mp3 containing the piece of the vocals with the accompaniment, to get an idea what she would be working with. The piece started with the piano’s soft intro, slowly weaving in more depth then dipping to welcome the vocalist.
An ethereal voice rose, surfacing from the notes of the piano. A sound that filled the room, not loud or heavy, but something hauntingly otherworldly and ethereal. A melody that cradled and comforted her. Sung in words she couldn’t understand, a language Sandrone was sure didn’t even exist, but still carried the weight as if she knew what was said anyways.
She was completely and utterly hypnotized by the sound. It was unlike anything she’d heard before. A voice that filled her with a longing that she didn’t comprehend. Columbina’s voice and the piano weaved together effortlessly, complimenting without overwhelming each other. Sandrone’s eyes were locked on to her phone where the music bled from, despite the quality of the speaker, the song gripped her.
It ended with a quiet decrescendo, words carrying a hopeful but sad farewell as they submerged back into the piano’s notes. Even after the song ended, Sandrone sat motionless on her piano bench.
Her first thought was regret for not listening sooner. After a few minutes, she finally reached for her phone and stared at it with astonishment. A rare instance of being rendered speechless. Slowly her thoughts began to move again, and she realized that this was the voice of the person she would be playing with. Her heart started to pound.
With a start, she stood up and marched to the kitchen to retrieve another cup of coffee. There was no way that she was going to play with a vocalist like that and perform anything but an equally perfect accompaniment.
“Looks like there won’t be any sleeping tonight,” she muttered to herself.
That loud, grating alarm tone blared from her phone across the room, calling for the end of her allotted time to rest. Sandrone knew that performing, even if it was just a rehearsal, with no sleep would make her sloppy. Prone to mistakes. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, dreams of a beautiful song fading away too soon. It was mid morning, giving her about four hours until she needed to leave. A few hours and she would hear Columbina sing in the flesh instead of through her phone’s shitty speaker. Sandrone shook her head, this was just for the money, not to ogle like a fangirl at the vocalist. It was simply just appreciation for her skill, and control of her voice. And the ability to imbue it with emotion that reached deep past the walls around her heart.
Reluctantly, she finally got up, crossing the room to pick up her phone. A text from Lauma, confirming the time and location as well as thanking her for returning the signed contract. Surprisingly, the contract was extremely generous, no suspiciously worded conditions, or sneaky loopholes. Nefer had already taken a look, she forwarded it to her and received a thumbs up.
There was one more text, from an unknown number.
I look forward to meeting you.
Sandrone stared at it for a long moment. Was this from Columbina?
Heat started spreading across her cheeks, unsure if she wanted to reply or not. For all she knew, it could just be a text from a wrong number. She should just ignore it and start her morning. Instead, her fingers moved across the screen.
Likewise.
When she was younger, she had been to the Kuuvahki concert hall a few times with Alain. He would take her to see the symphonies, the piano soloists, even a few operas. Each time, Sandrone would sit on the edge of her seat, analyzing the composition and harmonies, filled with wonder at how each independent instrument would come together weaving into something larger. Admiration at the technical control and mastery each had over their instruments to create something so complex and moving.
Now, she stood outside of the building, this time to play inside of it. There was a swirl of emotion that clenched around her heart, thinking of those days, how different she was. How different everything was. She let out the breath she was holding, and walked towards the building, bag rustling with the sheet music inside.
Lauma had said they would be using the rehearsal studio within the building, booked for an hour and a half. Enough time so Sandrone could familiarize herself with the piano and tune it if necessary.
Everything about the concert hall was extravagant, just as she remembered it. Plush carpets, carved railings, historical paintings adorning the walls. The rehearsal studio was through some doors and hallways she’d never seen before, the security nodding as she passed through. Lauma must have already provided what they needed to clear her. Just as efficient and thoughtful as Nefer. It was no wonder the two knew each other.
The faint sound of singing reached her ears, the same voice that she had been listening for hours to last night. She quickened her pace, the melody growing louder as she approached the doors of the studio. As quietly as she could, she opened the door, and stepped into the control room of the studio.
A woman stood inside, turned away from Sandrone. Long wine dark hair with strands of magenta bleeding through that reached her knees. She wore a loose dress the color of a foggy sky that fell a bit below her knees, barefoot, swinging back and forth as she sang. As if she was in her own universe. Sandrone stood frozen in place, listening to the lyrics in a language that rolled like honey off her tongue. There was an easiness in melody, like something you would hear someone hum while baking in their kitchen, or sing to their children after a nightmare.
And just like that, she slowed to a quiet stop. Sandrone watched her shuffle, then turn around. Columbina was standing and facing the window, directly looking at Sandrone. Well, she would have been, if her eyes were open. Her long eyelashes fluttered, her pale complexion was soft, delicate as if she was a doll. Lips a soft pink, slightly open as she exhaled. She was just as beautiful as her voice. Sandrone blanched. Caught standing and staring like a starstruck idiot. She was just about to open her mouth to explain herself, but Columbina moved again. She lowered herself to a crouch on the ground. Did she drop something?
Then she laid down on her back, and pulled out a juice box from her pocket that she started sipping. Her eyes still closed.
Sandrone blinked, watching as Columbina continued to drink her juice from a box, on the floor. What is this?
“Lauma, will you get me another juice? I have no more in my pockets,” Columbina requested, still on the floor.
“Sure, I think we still have one more in the cooler,” Lauma’s soft voice was suddenly beside her. Sandrone nearly jumped out of her skin, completely unaware of the other in the room with her.
“When did you get here!?” Sandrone yelped, scrambling to recover an ounce of composure.
“Oh, I’ve been here the entire time. I didn’t want to disrupt you while you listened,” Lauma hummed with a hint of amusement. Sandrone must have been a shade of cherry red at this point.
“She’s here?”
Columbina sat up from her position on the floor, looking towards the direction of the control room’s window, her eyes still closed.
“Hi,” Sandrone managed to get out, beyond humiliated.
A smile spread across Columbina’s face. Despite the strange first impression, her smile was dazzling.
“I’m glad you’ve arrived. Will you play for me?”
Sandrone scoffed, looking away. So straightforward.
“Obviously. That’s why I’m here.”
“Yes, that is why you’re here,” she agreed, finally standing up. The way she moved was as if she was floating, a ghost pulled by strings, “I have been told you’re very talented, but you choose to not play for anyone. Why is that?”
Sandrone prickled at the question.
“I don’t think that it’s any of your business.”
Columbina hummed thoughtfully, then tilted her head.
“Do you want some juice?” Columbina asked. As if that was a very normal thing to ask another adult before they started working.
“No, do I look like some five year old?”
“Hm… I’m not sure what you look like, but you do sound like one,” she replied, taking another sip of her juice.
Sandrone’s jaw dropped, and she balked.
“Excuse me?”
A delighted smile grew on Columbina’s lips.
“There is a piano that’s ready for you in the rehearsal space, but please take your time adjusting it to your preference,” Lauma quickly interjected, with a worried laugh, “Columbina has been looking forward to hearing you play.”
Sandrone pursed her lips in irritation at the one inside the room already. She’s worked with difficult people before, and for the amount of money, she could deal with it.
“Right, sure,” she mumbled, walking through the door. She marched past Columbina without looking at her, and sat down on the piano bench. Columbina's closed eye stare followed her across the room. Slowly, she followed her over to the piano to stand right next to the piano bench where Sandrone was sitting.
“You are standing uncomfortably close.” Sandrone’s annoyance was building.
“I would like to hear how you play.”
“You can still hear me from the other side of the room. Or the control room,” Sandrone replied, barely keeping her tone even.
“Hm, yes, I could. But, I think this is the best place to listen,” Columbina concluded with a nod.
Sandrone’s eyebrow twitched. Keep it together. Snapping at the person paying you isn’t a good idea.
“Fine. Just be quiet then,” Sandrone grumbled.
Inhale. Exhale.
With her breathing even, and mind cleared, Sandrone entered her state of focus. Fingertips brushing against the keys, the notes imprinted in her heart from hours of practice. She blocked out Columbina’s presence, and the fact she was in the rehearsal studio. Instead, the piano was the one in her apartment, sun was flooding through the window beside her, and her tea cup was on the table beside her.
The composition flowed from her fingers to the keys, gliding across and pulling out the notes she had spent a full day carving into her mind. She felt her body moving with the tempo, allowing herself to be fully dedicated to the act. While she played, nothing else mattered. Playing was her escape, to be transported to another time, another place, her melodies constructing what words and drawings could not.
The final note left the piano, and she sighed, returning to the present. Now very aware of the woman who continued to stand right next to her. Sandrone turned her head to glare at Columbina, to see her lips slightly parted and eyebrows lifted with surprise.
“What?” She snapped. A small part of her was now self conscious, and she could feel her spikes come out.
“That was beautiful,” Columbina replied, an infuriatingly soft smile on her face. Sandrone bit the inside of her cheek, fumbling for a response, cheeks starting to feel hot.
“Are you ready to continue together?” Columbina asked, turning around to wander back to the center of the room.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Sandrone huffed, flexing her fingers to get ready to play for the next hour.
“Very well. Let’s begin.”
It was a disaster.
Columbina wandered around half of the time while she was singing, throwing Sandrone off while she was trying to concentrate. A few times, in the middle of the song she would stop to ask a random question about what Sandrone was thinking about as she was playing. Or some other question that didn’t feel relevant at all. What’s your favorite season? Do you prefer sweet, or savory? Sandrone agreed to play the piano, not play twenty questions! They managed to get through the set list several times, but Sandrone was left on edge, feeling completely out of sync with Columbina.
She was absolutely intolerable.
The string of patience in her chest was pulled so taut that it would take a miracle for her to make it out of this studio without erupting. They were almost done. Surely the performance itself would be fine. Columbina should know better than to stop mid song and start flapping her gums. They had about fifteen minutes left of reserved time, and Columbina just stood in the middle of the room, facing the wall, and sipping on another juice box. The sound of straining to suck the last drops of liquid out of the stupid thing.
The thread snapped.
“Are you DONE wasting my time yet?! I came here to PRACTICE, not listen to you act like a toddler and sip on your baby drinks!” Sandrone’s voice came out loud and harsh. She could feel her fists clench at her sides, glaring at the back of Columbina’s head.
Columbina turned around to look at her general direction, straw still in her mouth.
“It is important that a vocalist stays hydrated,” she explained simply.
“I am well aware of that, but we do not need a five minute break for you to suck every ounce of air out of that box with that stupid little plastic straw. I came here to play piano, not twiddle my thumbs and indulge your stupidity and infinitesimally small attention span,” Sandrone barked, standing up from the piano bench. There was no way that she would be able to play anymore right now. Too worked up, too frustrated with this person who was supposedly a renowned vocalist.
Columbina furrowed her brows and a small frown pulled on her lips.
“I am done for today,” she snatched the sheets on the piano’s music stand, and marched towards the door to the control room.
Inside, a very frantic Lauma was approaching her.
“I’m so sorry Miss Sandrone, Columbina is simply a bit nervous, she really–”
“I don’t care,” Sandrone snapped, grabbing her bag from the couch she tossed it on, and stuffed the sheets inside. She needed to get some air, and get out of this room.
“Miss Sandrone, please, let me just–”
Sandrone left, and slammed the door behind her.
It was dark outside when she finally made it back to her apartment. She had silenced her phone on the bus ride back, not wanting to deal with a likely flood of texts from Lauma. Knowing Nefer, she probably was already in the know. If the gods were good, Nefer wouldn’t be inside waiting in the kitchen ready to give Sandrone an earful about not letting her temper take over.
She fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and unlocked the door, the room thankfully dark. At least that meant that Nefer wasn’t laying in wait for her. The kitchen lit up as she flicked the lightswitch. She felt her phone in her pocket, and let out a sigh as she finally pulled it out to check her notifications. As she expected, two missed calls, one from Lauma, one from Nefer. Too many text messages. Lauma had sent several in a row, clearly very distressed. Sandrone did feel a pang of pity for her, being the one caught in the middle. Something vaguely threatening from Nefer, she would probably need to reply to that one sooner than later to prevent an unexpected visit. And… There was one more.
A message from Columbina.
Sandrone scoffed. She really had the audacity to send her a message? What, did she have some smart ass quip to add that she didn’t get out in time? She held the phone, staring at the notification. Infuriated that she was curious. Her finger hovered over the delete button. Just delete it and move on.
But Sandrone was no better than the dead curious cat.
It was a voice message this time.
“Hello, Sandrone. I was truly delighted to meet you today. I realized that the way I acted during our rehearsal did not reflect that. I admit, I was nervous. I’ve never been accompanied by anyone else before now.”
Sandrone huffed and rolled her eyes as Columbina continued.
“I’m sorry. I do not want today to be the last time we play together. The melodies you made stirred my heart. I hope you will consider giving our collaboration another chance, tomorrow at the performance. I’ll even provide some ‘adult’ beverages for you. Whatever you decide, I am glad to have met you.”
“This is Columbina, by the way. Good night.”
The phone dimmed as the message finished, leaving Sandrone sitting in silence once again.
“What kind of weird message,” Sandrone mumbled to herself, picking up the phone and staring at the voice memo. Columbina’s voice was sincere. The pleas and explanations she expected from Lauma, but not from Columbina. Sandrone had pegged her as the type who didn’t care if she was difficult, or acting intentionally to piss her off.
The melodies you made stirred my heart.
“Embarrassing. Who the hell says things like that.”
She put her phone back down, and paced across the room to sit at her piano bench. The majority of her anger had simmered down by the end of the bus ride. Logically, she knew it would be stupid to quit after one attempted rehearsal. That woman just pushed her buttons in a way that made her see red. For some reason, she still insisted, even after Sandrone spewed venom at her.
If she was Columbina, she would have fired herself immediately after she stepped foot out of that studio. Sandrone knew that her temper was short and volatile, it wasn’t most people's cup of tea. Though, to be fair, she was exceptionally patient! Anyone else she would have walked out within the first five minutes. Columbina was a bit eccentric, and there were probably other pianists who would be far more tolerant than she was.
Sandrone stared at her phone across the room.
She walked back over to the counter, and picked it up. Opening the message with Columbina. Her fingers moved across the screen, typing a reply against her better judgement.
I know who you are, idiot. I already agreed to be there in my contract. Don’t send me weird messages.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t regret this as much as she anticipated. She paced over to the fridge, pulling out leftovers for dinner. Today was too much.
Her phone dinged with a new message.
Too quickly she snatched it off the counter, and opened the message from Columbina. Another voice message.
“I’m really happy to hear that. I look forward to tomorrow.”
A pause.
“Why was it weird?”
Sandrone pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned. Gods give her strength to survive this.
