You're My Everything (Septiplier)

"You never told me that he was that hot!"

Mark made a loud clearing of the throat that I was fairly certain was intentional to rouse Mr. Spencer, and while I appreciated his efforts, it didn't do anything. We finally got to the two chairs which Mike and I had been sitting in roughly six months ago, and sat down. Still no movement or acknowledgement that we were there, or that anything else in the world existed except for Mr. Spencer and the beautiful music around us.

I looked over to Mark, whose face looked almost adorably baffled at the situation we were in. He leaned over to me and spoke as quietly as he could. "Is this part of what you and Mike went through," he asked, his voice full of conern. "Is this like a test? Are we supposed to poke a stick at him, or answer three riddles?"

"I have no earthly idea what is going on," I answered back, trying not to have my panic show too much on my face. "He wasn't like this when I met him the last time."

The music swelled and then with a few more bars, the song ended. There was silence again, and Mr. Spencer opened his eyes, and looked at the two of us for the first time since we opened the door and walked in.

"Brandenburg Concerto Number 3 in G Major," Mr Spencer said, his voice still extremely low and slow. His eyes, that same almost unnaturally blue hue that caused me to wonder if he was at some point part of an interesting science experiment. "Do either of you gentlemen listen to the classics?"

I felt my brain jump start, realizing that he had asked both Mark and I a question. Mark spoke before I had a chance to do so.

"Yes, sir," he said, his voice much stronger than I had expected it to be. "My father and I listened to a lot of the classical music when I was much younger."

Mr. Spencer nodded approvingly, his eyes scanning Mark, as if he was x-raying him. "I apologize for my delay in greeting. I have been told by my physician that I need to relax more, and the suggestion of music in my office seemed like a good one."

"Oh, no we didn't mind at all," I said, trying to keep my voice casual. "Thank you for sharing such a lovely song with us."

"You are very welcome, Mr. McLoughlin," he said simply. "I assume that you are feeling better. Mr. Fischbach?" he asked, still looking at me, but speaking to Mark.

Mark said yes, somewhat taken aback at being spoken to without eye contact, but he recovered fairly quickly from it.

"So, I am glad that I was able to get the final paperwork completed," Mr. Spencer continued, his right hand gesturing to a small stack of papers on the desk. "Please feel free to take these copies with you to review. Mr. Rogan has already sent over the adjustments and they have been added."

I nodded and took the papers from the desk.

"I am going to unfortunately not going to be the one who will be monitoring the day to day operations of the sponsorship," he said, looking somewhat grave.

Mark look surprised by this, and spoke up. "Oh, that's a shame, sir. Both Sean and I were looking forward to working with you on a daily basis."

I was fairly sure that this wasn't true, considering the last few times that Mark and I had talked about the idea of Mr. Spencer, lurking like a tall bat around our house, but I applauded Mark's ability to sound genuinely disappointed.

"That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Fischbach," Mr. Spencer said, inclining his head, "but between my physician's concern for my health, and owing that I am not the most youthful face to be appearing on either of your channels, as infrequent as it would be, I am perfectly fine with the decision. I of course will still be overseeing the final product, but as to everything else, both you and Mr. McLoughlin will be working with Mr. Edge. He is an excellent person to not only deal with the daily part of marketing and public relations, but I have been told but many people, including my granddaughter Sarah that he is 'very pleasing on the eyes'."