"Sounds good," Calliope says, nodding at Alexander. "Not my strength."
"After you," Jack extends an arm and mock bows.
With a nod, the Nosferatu slinks off toward the theater.
Slipping the chain off of the door, you enter the theater. Falling plaster and dust covered, well worn seats fill the auditorium. A stage sits at the front of the room.
As you observe the area you hear voices approaching the stage from what you would guess is the backstage area.
Steps behind crumbling post. Calls upon the blood, to mimic the hopes, dreams of Gary. To fade away.
Alexander silently stands by, waiting to see who approaches.
You see two males on the stage talking. "Man, why are we waiting here for some b+~@@ from Chicago. Chicago folks don't give two shits about Gary, why she startin' now."
The other says, "No f~+$in' clue, but Evelyn wants us here for the meeting, so we're here."
Evelyn?
The name Evelyn doesn't register as anything of note to Alexander.
Notepad, pencil. Evelyn.
Slow silent shuffle back the way he came. Rejoins his coterie. Slips out from Gary’s dissipative veil.
”Two men inside.” An ant’s cough. ”Waiting to meet someone from Chicago, at the request of one ‘Evelyn.’ They’re skeptical of the value of said meeting.”
”Didn’t sound like they’re expecting a group. Perhaps Maldavis has arranged to meet multiple parties here tonight, ourselves included?”