[ The theater is a gorgeous, old place, or at least old by the standards of the society that's laid most recent claim to it. Which is to say it's about seventy years old, give or take, with enough renovations to hitch it up to looking a lot younger.
But that does put it at a younger age than many of the current workers. And owner, as it happens.
Blanc's been hired by a lycan who's employed there, a tough older woman with no obvious signs of dog-related heritage in her when she gives him the initial rundown.
'That's wonderful, Miss Natalia, but I must ask the others about last week. Alone, if you'd let me. It's imperative I get to talk to them each face to face. While it's all still fresh.'
It's the backstage areas that he's just been allowed access to; a series of corridors that smell like powdered makeup and pleather and a certain musk - one that Blanc hasn't decided whether to label as a scent unique to theaters across the country or that's specific to this particular menagerie of dietary needs.
That is to say, it smells an awful lot like old blood.
But he comes close to the door he was directed to. And as he does, a woman comes out of the joining hallway. Soft steps, a softer-looking bathrobe, and strong enough shoulders that when they collide before he can stop, Blanc doesn't quite send her reeling. ] I am very sorry miss, I didn't see you in time-- Are you all right?
He I was, trying to make as little nuisance of myself as possible, and I'm knocking young women over in the hall. [ He's reached out, warm but professional in helping to sturdy her and in trying to get a good look at her face, because he's still ultimately curious about whoever it is he's bumped into. ]
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ready for some kfc? (kentucky fried cisunderstanding)
But that does put it at a younger age than many of the current workers. And owner, as it happens.
Blanc's been hired by a lycan who's employed there, a tough older woman with no obvious signs of dog-related heritage in her when she gives him the initial rundown.
'That's wonderful, Miss Natalia, but I must ask the others about last week. Alone, if you'd let me. It's imperative I get to talk to them each face to face. While it's all still fresh.'
It's the backstage areas that he's just been allowed access to; a series of corridors that smell like powdered makeup and pleather and a certain musk - one that Blanc hasn't decided whether to label as a scent unique to theaters across the country or that's specific to this particular menagerie of dietary needs.
That is to say, it smells an awful lot like old blood.
But he comes close to the door he was directed to. And as he does, a woman comes out of the joining hallway. Soft steps, a softer-looking bathrobe, and strong enough shoulders that when they collide before he can stop, Blanc doesn't quite send her reeling. ] I am very sorry miss, I didn't see you in time-- Are you all right?
He I was, trying to make as little nuisance of myself as possible, and I'm knocking young women over in the hall. [ He's reached out, warm but professional in helping to sturdy her and in trying to get a good look at her face, because he's still ultimately curious about whoever it is he's bumped into. ]