01-09-2025, 03:14 AM
Ezvin listened closely, his body leaning slightly forward in his chair as Cadence spoke. He rested his elbows on his thighs, hands loosely clasped, his guitar leaning against the knee. His expression was calm, open, and focused. This wasn’t a man who simply waited for his turn to speak; this was a man absorbing every word, every inflection, every flicker of emotion Cadence allowed to surface.
He didn’t interrupt when she mentioned her anxiety. He didn’t flinch when she spoke of her expectations, or when she admitted she’d forgotten to communicate what she needed from him earlier. He recognized what was happening—an artist baring the messy, vulnerable truth of her vision, not because she was weak, but because she was strong enough to be honest. To Ezvin, that was the mark of someone worth working with.
When she finally finished, leaving the air buzzing with her passion and her anxieties, he let the silence linger just a moment longer than most might have. He wanted to respect what she’d laid out for him, to let it breathe before rushing in with his thoughts. Then, with a steadying breath of his own, he straightened slightly and offered her a small, genuine smile.
“First,” he began, his voice warm but steady, “thank you for laying all of that out for me. I know how personal this project is to you, and I don’t take lightly the trust you’re extending by being this upfront.” He gestured slightly, his palms facing upward in an open, honest posture. “This is your vision, Cadence, and what you’ve built here—this band, this sound, this mission—it’s already something extraordinary. I mean that."
He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he weighed his next words. His tone remained measured, considerate, but there was an underlying current of confidence—a kind of quiet, unshakable belief in his own abilities that never veered into arrogance.
“I owe you an apology for not jumping in with the band earlier. That wasn’t meant to throw you off, and I certainly didn’t mean to seem like I wasn’t fully here for you. The truth is, I was watching. Listening. Feeling out the dynamic. It’s important to me to understand how a band plays together before I step in. I wasn’t just hearing the music; I was hearing you—your chemistry, your influences, your heartbeat as a group. I needed to absorb that to do my job right.”
He paused, letting his words land before leaning forward again, his tone softening slightly. “But I see now that I should have been clearer about that. If it felt like I wasn’t fully present, that’s on me. I’m here now, and I’m all in.”
Ezvin shifted slightly, resting his forearms on the edge of the table as his eyes met hers. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no sign of discomfort despite the weight of her words. He was steady, a calming presence.
“What you’re asking for—a partner, not just a pencil pusher—is exactly the kind of collaboration I live for. I’m not here to churn out radio singles or run you through the production machine until there’s nothing left. That’s not how I work, and it’s definitely not how I see you. I’ve worked with plenty of artists who had talent, but talent alone isn’t enough. What you have, Cadence, is purpose. A story. A reason for doing what you do, and that’s what sets you apart.”
His smile grew slightly, a flicker of playfulness in his tone. “And for the record, I’ve definitely said, ‘That’s crazy, and we have to do it’ more times than I can count. So, I think we’ll get along just fine in that department.”
He let out a soft chuckle before continuing, his voice growing more serious again. “You’re right—recording isn’t easy. It’s long, grueling, messy work, and sometimes egos clash or nerves fray. But it’s also where magic happens. And you’re building something here that has the potential to be monumental. Not just because of the talent in this room, but because of the heart behind it. You want to inspire people, and that’s not something you can fake. That’s where the real power of music comes from.”
Ezvin leaned back once more, crossing one leg over the other, his movements unhurried but purposeful. “As for your questions,” he said, nodding slightly, “I don’t have many. What you’ve laid out is clear, and I respect how much thought you’ve put into it. The only thing I’ll say is this: I don’t see this as your team or my job. If we’re going to do this, it has to be our collaboration. That means honesty, trust, and mutual respect. You don’t have to worry about me telling you something won’t work or pushing back when I think we can do better. That’s what I’m here for. But I’ll also celebrate with you when we get it right.”
He paused, his smile softening as he regarded her with quiet sincerity. “And for the record, Cadence, anxiety doesn’t look like weakness to me. It looks like bravery. You’ve put your heart on the line today, and that tells me everything I need to know about who you are and why this project matters to you. So, let’s make it happen.”
With that, he leaned forward again, clasping his hands lightly on the table. “Now, if there’s anything else you’d like to clarify, I’m all ears. And if not, how about we pick up those instruments and make some music together? I’ve got a feeling this is going to be something special.”
After tucking his hair behind his ears, he finished with a warm, easy smile, the kind that invited trust and left no room for doubt.
He didn’t interrupt when she mentioned her anxiety. He didn’t flinch when she spoke of her expectations, or when she admitted she’d forgotten to communicate what she needed from him earlier. He recognized what was happening—an artist baring the messy, vulnerable truth of her vision, not because she was weak, but because she was strong enough to be honest. To Ezvin, that was the mark of someone worth working with.
When she finally finished, leaving the air buzzing with her passion and her anxieties, he let the silence linger just a moment longer than most might have. He wanted to respect what she’d laid out for him, to let it breathe before rushing in with his thoughts. Then, with a steadying breath of his own, he straightened slightly and offered her a small, genuine smile.
“First,” he began, his voice warm but steady, “thank you for laying all of that out for me. I know how personal this project is to you, and I don’t take lightly the trust you’re extending by being this upfront.” He gestured slightly, his palms facing upward in an open, honest posture. “This is your vision, Cadence, and what you’ve built here—this band, this sound, this mission—it’s already something extraordinary. I mean that."
He leaned back slightly, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he weighed his next words. His tone remained measured, considerate, but there was an underlying current of confidence—a kind of quiet, unshakable belief in his own abilities that never veered into arrogance.
“I owe you an apology for not jumping in with the band earlier. That wasn’t meant to throw you off, and I certainly didn’t mean to seem like I wasn’t fully here for you. The truth is, I was watching. Listening. Feeling out the dynamic. It’s important to me to understand how a band plays together before I step in. I wasn’t just hearing the music; I was hearing you—your chemistry, your influences, your heartbeat as a group. I needed to absorb that to do my job right.”
He paused, letting his words land before leaning forward again, his tone softening slightly. “But I see now that I should have been clearer about that. If it felt like I wasn’t fully present, that’s on me. I’m here now, and I’m all in.”
Ezvin shifted slightly, resting his forearms on the edge of the table as his eyes met hers. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no sign of discomfort despite the weight of her words. He was steady, a calming presence.
“What you’re asking for—a partner, not just a pencil pusher—is exactly the kind of collaboration I live for. I’m not here to churn out radio singles or run you through the production machine until there’s nothing left. That’s not how I work, and it’s definitely not how I see you. I’ve worked with plenty of artists who had talent, but talent alone isn’t enough. What you have, Cadence, is purpose. A story. A reason for doing what you do, and that’s what sets you apart.”
His smile grew slightly, a flicker of playfulness in his tone. “And for the record, I’ve definitely said, ‘That’s crazy, and we have to do it’ more times than I can count. So, I think we’ll get along just fine in that department.”
He let out a soft chuckle before continuing, his voice growing more serious again. “You’re right—recording isn’t easy. It’s long, grueling, messy work, and sometimes egos clash or nerves fray. But it’s also where magic happens. And you’re building something here that has the potential to be monumental. Not just because of the talent in this room, but because of the heart behind it. You want to inspire people, and that’s not something you can fake. That’s where the real power of music comes from.”
Ezvin leaned back once more, crossing one leg over the other, his movements unhurried but purposeful. “As for your questions,” he said, nodding slightly, “I don’t have many. What you’ve laid out is clear, and I respect how much thought you’ve put into it. The only thing I’ll say is this: I don’t see this as your team or my job. If we’re going to do this, it has to be our collaboration. That means honesty, trust, and mutual respect. You don’t have to worry about me telling you something won’t work or pushing back when I think we can do better. That’s what I’m here for. But I’ll also celebrate with you when we get it right.”
He paused, his smile softening as he regarded her with quiet sincerity. “And for the record, Cadence, anxiety doesn’t look like weakness to me. It looks like bravery. You’ve put your heart on the line today, and that tells me everything I need to know about who you are and why this project matters to you. So, let’s make it happen.”
With that, he leaned forward again, clasping his hands lightly on the table. “Now, if there’s anything else you’d like to clarify, I’m all ears. And if not, how about we pick up those instruments and make some music together? I’ve got a feeling this is going to be something special.”
After tucking his hair behind his ears, he finished with a warm, easy smile, the kind that invited trust and left no room for doubt.