Do you hear what I hear? (Vincent)

[James Fawcett]

James ran one hand through curls that had begun springing free from the gel captivity placed upon them that morning. Although most people complained about how Christmas decor began to pop up sometimes even before the last pumpkin had been set on stoops for Halloween, the truth was that for him the Christmas season started far earlier than that - as early as August Handel's The Messiah was brought out of storage, along with whatever other music the church choir was set to perform, and rehearsals began in earnest. The closer the holidays crept the more extra rehearsal time appeared, ignoring the fact that so many of the choir members also had family obligations to attend at the same time.



No, of course they also would be able to cram in a couple of weekend rehearsals in November and December, to ensure that the Christmas concert was nothing short of perfect.

That was on top of the extra rehearsals with the Hammel choir, although there was no Christmas to be found among their repertoire. That was such a huge difference from teaching in south Georgia, where the mere fact of not referring to a concert held in December as a Christmas concert would earn the ire of parents. Let alone having zero Christmas songs present. 

But here at Hammel the culture was different. More inclusive, more cognizant of the fact that not everyone was Christian, because...

Well, the culture here was far less homogeneous than the one he'd grown up in. 

All of the chairs were stacked against the back wall, moved out of the way for the dance team. He sighed heavily as he strode up to the nearest stack, grabbing a chair from the top. As he rearranged the room to be more appropriate for a group of singers he sang to himself, the tenor part from Blow, Blow Thou Winter Wind. It was one of his favorites, and as he'd insisted that it be one of the first pieces of music he taught his new students it was on his mind. 

[Vincent Meian]

Though he rarely played much anymore, Vincent had played the violin for close to thirty-five years now. His original had long since been replaced; damaged and worn by constant and fumbling use in his teens. His new one was still a veritable antique, but he liked the sound it made and so kept it with care. Being that it made for an excellent conversation starter with new students, he kept it on a shelf in his office, along with the proper care tools and spare parts needed to maintain the instrument.

However, on days like today where his schedule wasn't full (or his students were absent), sometimes he filled the time gaps with practice. He had finished tuning and warming up in one of the small practice halls, but had hoped to slip into a larger area with better acoustics to actually play. He disliked the muffled sounds of the sound-proofed rooms, wanted to hear the music in all its intended glory. The last few weeks had been filled with recitals and practices for every musical aspect of Hammel, however, so he could never quite find the space until today.

Still, as he moved to open the door of the rehearsal room, the trainer paused; listened. Someone was singing in there.

A quick peek showed it to be the music teacher; a new one, if he remembered correctly. Vincent didn't often have crossover with the standard education teachers outside of IEPs or staff meetings, but the face looked less familiar than many he'd seen in the last five years. The man had a good voice; solid and rich, and singing the harmony of the Shakespearean piece easily. Also fortunate, it was one Vincent knew the accompaniment for, having looked it up on his own during his studies of The Bard.

Still, he wasn't so rude as to interrupt with that. That would be something out of one of his wife's romance novels, and he was not keen on playing to a trope (though he would have appreciated the pun therein.) Therefore, quietly, he slipped inside the door and waited for the song to finish before making himself known, leaning shadow-like against the doorframe with his case at his side.

"Your voice fits the harmony well."

[James Fawcett]

James was too preoccupied with set up to notice that anyone else had entered the rehearsal room and thus when someone spoke he whirled around in shock, knocking over the last of the chairs he'd set up. He only vaguely recognized the other man, and that recognition more because of his enormous height and his ethnicity than anything else. He didn't actually know him, which he mentally chastised himself for. He ought to have been friendlier with his coworkers, maybe shown up in the staff room more often, but too many unfamiliar faces caused him stress he preferred to avoid. He'd primarily found himself associating with Simon (because they were neighbors and he had a crush on Simon's brother) and Valerie (non-powered teacher unity) and...not too many other people.

Fortunately for his tendency to devolve into an anxious mess, though, the other man's choice of topics with which to introduce himself was one that reliably overrode his neuroses. His eyes lit up as he crowed excitedly, "You knew it's the harmony!"

Which might have been contextual, but frankly he hoped it wasn't - and the instrument case at his side suggested that maybe, just maybe he knew a little about music.

"Sorry, I...did you need this room?"

He'd been so sure that he'd made sure the room was available before telling the choir to meet here later, but maybe he'd confused the schedule again.

[Vincent Meian]

The chairs toppling over made Vincent react out of instinct, leaning forward and raising his hand to help despite being too far away to do much of anything. He should have expected that suddenly appearing in an empty room would cause a startle reaction, but what was done was done. Still, he walked down, taking his case with him lest he forget it by the door on his way out. Setting the battered leather on the podium temporarily, he helped picked up some of the toppled chairs and set them right. At least the other teacher's excitement made him smile a little, breaking the ingrained severity of his neutral expression.

"No, not at all." The trainer gestured to the case, adding, "I merely saw that this room was empty, and had been hoping to practice. I prefer the acoustics here in comparison to the practice rooms."

Adjusting the last of the chairs a little more to line it up with the rest, he added, "I am sorry for the interruption. I will leave, if you are to teach a class presently."

While he wanted to play, especially since he had the time, he understood just as well as coworker that this time of year played merry hell with schedules for both students and classrooms. Holidays aside, various pageants, vacations, and performances called for the practice rooms to be filled almost 24/7. Additionally, the school closed after certain hours, and being in the building after even the latest when one was not part of particular groups made Security nervous. Therefore, if he needed to leave due to a practice session, he'd be happy to vacate and come back another time.

Realizing that he didn't know the teacher's name, he held out his hand for a handshake. "I apologize for the late introduction; my name is Vincent Meian, and I am a trainer here."

[James Fawcett]

"I'm...early," James apologized, brown eyes roaming towards the clock affixed to the back wall. His sense of time was unfortunately dreadful, so that if he wasn't scrambling at the very last minute because he underestimated how long his tasks would take, he had half an hour left over to twiddle his thumbs because he panicked and gave himself too much time. "So if you're gonna practice don't worry about me, I just thought I'd get things ready before my students have to be here."

It took a moment for him to realize that he was being offered a handshake, and he jerked his attention away from the clock and thoughts of time and back to the man in front of him. "Vincent Meian." He repeated, and there was a long pause while he mentally repeated that as well. Vincent Meian, Vincent Meian, Vincent Meian. He couldn't place the last name at all, whether Chinese or Korean or something else all together. "I'm James. James Fawcett. I uhh...teach choir."

Such a huge surprise.

[Vincent Meian]

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, James." The politeness was warm, if stilted due to accent, and the handshake he offered was firm without being crushing. Spending much of his adult life being bigger and stronger than a lot of people gave a very real sense of how easy it was to hurt people by accident, thus the trainer took great care in making sure he prevented exactly that. "Thank you for your hospitality as well; I am not well-practiced, therefore I do not often play before others alone. However, as a teacher, I am certain you have heard worse."

The statement was a joke, though one could hardly be blamed for not catching it given its dry delivery. Releasing the younger man, Vincent went back to the podium to collect his case before looking around for a place to perch. The chairs were all far too short for him (given his long legs), and the floor was not ideal but would work in a pinch. The desk had stacks of papers on it, presumably for the lesson at hand, so he eventually settled for a stool reserved for the conductor at the front of the class.

As he began unpacking the antique violin, he asked, "What pieces will be used for the performance this year? Will it include the one you were singing, perhaps?"