Oðin was sitting behind his desk - not that he ever really had much use for it, but sometimes, it was beneficial - and reading about some flute prodigy that had just sprung up out of nowhere in the Middle East. Really, he could not imagine why she had gotten such a center of attention; he had seen more than ''prodigies'' in his lifetime, he had seen works of art created and thrown back down because someone did not fit the liking of the person who discovered their talents.
"Hello, how are you? I'm guessing you were awaiting for your employees to report."
He put the newspaper down, sliding off his glasses with a fake smile, and nodded. "Ah, yes. I assume you must be Cedric, then?" He quickly gestured to a chair, lingering a foot or so before the desk. "Please, sit down. I have but a few questions to ask of you before the night starts."
Oðin pondered for a moment, looking back down at the article, before his attention re-focused to Cedric. "I would guess that you have already looked at our stage here. Is everything to your likes? I would be certain there is enough time to get something you would be in need of, should that be an issue."
What would the chances be that I've found someone who is a...'prodigy'? I wouldn't turn him away, but...
"And, at that, I would request a chance to listen to one or two of your mixes. Not an issue, I trust?"