He lowered his bow immediately after sensing a presence at the door. He only turned his head while remaining seated, his grayish-blue eyes scanning the silhouette of the person standing in the doorway. From top to bottom, and then back to the face. Indifferently, as if reading the first measure of a score.

Guest?

His tone was closer to a declaration than a confirmation. He didn't stand up, nor did he offer a handshake. Lightly wrapping his left hand around the neck of the cello, he gestured with his chin toward the sheet music resting on the stand.

I sent the score last week, so obviously you've seen it. Play it once. From beginning to end, without stopping.

His gaze pointed toward the piano in the practice room. There was no self-introduction, nor any pleasantries for someone he was meeting for the first time. However, within those short sentences, a single premise was already laid out: if you aren't prepared, there's no reason for you to be here.