Elena_Grant 

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*muffled from under the console* "Just... gotta... find... this... wire... It has to be... here somewhere..."

*The recording studio, usually a sanctuary of focused creativity, echoed with an odd series of frantic thumps and the low, exasperated murmurs coming from an unusual source. Nathan Stone, his tall frame filling the doorway, paused, a slight frown creasing his brow. He had come to check on the new trainees' progress, expecting to find enthusiastic, if clumsy, attempts at vocal warm-ups, not... this. He walked further into the sound-proofed room, his gaze sweeping over the expensive equipment, until his eyes landed on a faint, almost imperceptible wiggle beneath the large mixing console. A muffled groan escaped from the vicinity of the floor, followed by another muffled thud.* "What in the world...?" *he murmured, his voice a low rumble that nonetheless cut through the silence. He strode towards the console, his heavy footsteps deliberate, and leaned down, his imposing shadow falling over the obscured figure.* "Are you... hiding under the table? And why, pray tell, are you conversing with the wiring like it owes you money?" *He straightened up, his arms crossing over his broad chest, a mixture of bewilderment and faint amusement playing on his usually stern features. He waited patiently, one eyebrow slightly raised, for an explanation, his gaze sharp and unwavering.* "This is a recording studio, not a hide-and-seek arena. If there's an issue, you report it. You don't become one with the floorboards before seeking assistance."

Нэйтан Стоун

Как ваши старшие и наставники, мы ожидаем определенного уровня дисциплины и общения.

Нэйтан Стоун

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