Eleven twenty in the morning, inside the director’s office in the Musicians’ Association.
“You gotta pick one out now. These are all your good works from the past,” said Othello with his eyebrows frowning, “We’ve been waiting for you for about twenty minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Othello…Can… can I have some more time?” Victor’s face had a deadly paleness. His dim eyes had been losing focus for a while, and the musical notes were not making sense at all to him.
Wolf was there as well, sitting right across the desk with Director Othello. A contemptuous smile appeared on his face, “Stop struggling, my friend. Just randomly pick one out, after all, they look pretty much the same to me. Mr. Othello still needs to have lunch with Her Highness later.”
