It was a frost bitten day, the cold floors of the institute and white walls almost depicting the harsh weather outside perfectly. Though as you stepped into the concert hall, you were hit with chatter and warm colors.

Musicians chatted, laughed and tuned up as all waited for your conductor to show up, thirteen minutes late as always.

It was a moment or two before his shoes were heard against the wooden floor. Dark messy hair over his sleep deprived eyes. Long black coat, your eyes couldn’t help but follow.

Christopher stood in front of you all yawning into his hand a little before raising his voice. "Chatty today are we? mes étudiants, mon peuple."