It had been a while since Alan had been asked to play flamenco guitar on a track, but he was happy to pick it up for whichever up and coming popstar was wanting it added in to their (more than likely) generic mass-produced pop song. Maybe somewhere, deep down in the guts of it, there would be a flamenco guitar played with a bit of love.
The voice that came through the intercom was strangely familiar and Alan raised his eyes and then smiled, surprised but not really that surprised. He had told Orpheus the studios he was working at, after all.
He put his guitar down on the stool after standing and came out the door. "Looking fair gorgeous as always," he said to the other man, coming in for a hug.