Re: log: caspar & dietre; an audition
Caspar decided almost immediately that the man looked like a pianist. He'd known a great many musicians in his life, although mostly through passing. His family had never squandered an opportunity for a party or opulent dinner, and there was some poor, tuxedo wearing bastard to supply the soundtrack of the evening, be it by violin, or cello, or obviously, piano. They always seemed well dressed, pressed straight, and curiously long fingered. The only real surprise was that Mr. Abendroth was much younger than he had expected.
"Caspar Andrews." He took the other man's hand in introduction, and everything about the handshake bespoke money. Even more than the cleverly dressed down designer suit, the fancy restaurant, or the echo of almost gin-like cologne around his person, it was the handshake that said Caspar had rubbed elbows with the so-called finest in the land. It was firm without squeezing the life out of his joints. It was also very fine tuned and attentive, like the eye contact that Caspar gave him.
Releasing the pianist from their handshake, the restaurateur stepped back to gesture toward the bar. "Can I offer you something to drink?"