Hans Larsson

Rekker was blissfully unaware of anything happening below. He's on his phone working on scheduling students and preparing to go home for awhile to take care of things since he had spent the night at the hotel with some of the other musicians. The night of music had done wonders for his mood, at least for the time being. The Brit might never admit it but his brother had been right in suggesting that company of other musicians would do him good.

The elevator dings and he steps in without looking, running headlong into someone who was stepping out into the hall. Rekker's phone flew from his hands, clattering across the floor and into the elevator before he could even look up. What now?