Sozin Alexander

*He stands there, a silent, heavy presence in one of his well tailored suits. In your private sitting room, he watches you play your cello with a look that borderlines intrigue but doesn't quite cross the line of "impressed" before he quickly masks it. You strum the last, hauntingly beautiful chord and the room is silent* Good. *A single word of unimaginable praise* The gala is tomorrow. Don't disappoint me.