Two Belles of the Ball on a Stage Too Small - ( Erebus & Crescent )

[Crescent]

"What do you mean you're splitting the role!?" Short strands of auburn slipped free of their confining elastic hair band as the young woman's palms smacked squarely down on the wooden surface separating her from focus of her attention. They hung loosely down past the scrunched lines in her forehead, swaying in front of her glaring, hazel-colored eyes. Across the circular oaken table, an older man clad in an old, beige corduroy suit jacket over a white button-up and faded jeans withered slightly from the aggressive reaction. He raised a hand to scratch lightly at his brown-gray stubble and looked away to the other young woman standing with them. Finding little more sympathy there, he lowered his chin and cleared his throat. Jean lifted her hands from the table and similarly crossed arms over her chest. She hunched forward slightly, not halting her annoyed glower.

"Yes well, as you both know, we have our first preview showing in three days, and umm, Erin and I have been talking..." A few beads of sweat dotted his forehead just beneath his graying hairline, clearly defined as it was with his hair pulled back into a pony tail. Standing on the raised stage, a kitchen backdrop behind them, the spotlights shone down on the three of them. He met Jean's gaze again, and she raised both eyebrows as if to impatiently say 'go on'. "Erin and I have been talking, and well.....we just think...you both bring something truly special to the part!" As he turned to look offstage, seeking some support from Erin, Jean's expression turned to a mix of incredulity and just a hint of disgust. She directed this look to her side, clearly intending some of her displeasure for her counterpart.

The annoyance came through in her voice as well, "You're kidding...right? We open in a week. We can't just learn new parts." Her right hand tugged at the short sleeve of her violet shirt, as she had a habit of doing in frustration. A puff of air was sent from her lips, aimed at the loose bangs that she just realized were bothering her.

"It's not a joke, Jean, and don't you worry about your lines!" His confidence returned, along with a gleam of self satisfaction in his eyes. The man's pride seemed to swell as he continued, "That's the brilliant part. You both know all of your lines already!" Looking between them, he sought for some shared enthusiasm. Again finding little, he cleared his throat. "Because each of you play the part so well, so differently, we just....", he glanced offstage to Erin to seek support a second time, "want both of you to play it together!. It's really quite a bold move for Broadway, if I say so myself." Again that prideful expression spread across his face as he looked up into the lights. It was this look of the director's that Jean found particularly annoying whenever he wore it. As such, she scoffed audibly and rolled her eyes, now using her hand to tuck the loose hair behind her ear.

"So we're what, like splitting our lines?" She asked, feeling the heat rise in her face.

"Exactly! Trust me, the crowds will eat it up."

She couldn't look at him, at least not with the contempt that she wanted to just then. Instead, Jean glared daggers at the woman next to her. Unbelievable, to think that she, overacting hag that she was, was to share what was to be Jean's breakout part, the part that she had devoted herself to fully. She'd chopped her hair short, passed up on two other plays, even flirted with Dave, this asshole old fart of a director for a chance to play the part. Granted, Dave was generally pleasant and encouraging towards her, if a bit full of himself, but he certainly had achieved asshole status in her book with this move. When she spoke again, it came out quiet, almost pleading. "No."

"Excuse me?" He inquired.

Her voice gradually raised as she went on, the last word shouted. "No, you can't do this. You have to decide. You swore you would pick one of us. So PICK!" Unfolding her arms, Jean slammed her palms down on the table again much harder, like a child throwing a tantrum. The angry gesture drew looks from Erin and a male member of the crew, standing off behind the side curtain. The outburst jolted her bangs loose again, draping them down again before her now pink flushed face and looking down at the table.

Dave raised his hands in front of himself defensively. "It's....umm....well, we can't." Jean's head popped up to glare at him again. "You see, we've already announced it. A preview piece will be out in the Times tomorrow morning talking about it." He opened his mouth to say more, but no words came out.

"This....this is your fault!" Her head whipped to face the other woman. "Y-you're fucking fault! I can't believe you!" She spat out the words, an angry tear welling in her eye. Without elaborating further, Jean balled her fists and jerked them to her sides. She abruptly turned face and stomped off the stage, purposefully giving Erin the stink eye in passing.

Looking away and needlessly adjusting his ponytail, Dave nervously spoke, trying to add some levity to the situation, "Well...I guess we can give you two an some time before we start today's rehearsal, heheh.....heh."

 

[Erebus]

"Poppycock."

Delilah "Lily" Rivers stood with her waist half-turned against the rounded table, offering her own quiet, barely audible running commentary to the conversation at hand. Her hand was constantly running through her hair, light brown which streamed into an even lighter platinum blonde at the ends. Cross as she was about the whole ordeal, her pale blue-grey eyes spoke only of mild irritation, an easy contrast to the fire currently radiating from the horrendously vocal woman next door. Still, she could not find any disagreement with what the other was spouting, offering only a gentle shrug when Dave gave a look of what could only be described as a desperate, silent plea for help. Lily tucked away straying strands behind her ear and glanced at the bright lights dotting the theater. She feigned disinterest, but her attention had successfully been taken captive.

After all, it had taken too much to get here. Having read over the script, she had admittedly been more than slightly uninspired but given the publicity and opportunities which came with landing a high-profile role, she would have been truly stupid to pass it up. The play was not so much new as it was different and Lily always happily welcomed challenges, come as they may. This, however, was not an obstacle she foresaw and even now it was difficult to fully believe that this was the direction they wanted to go. Her head dipped back down to Dave at the possibility of an answer at last, clearly ignoring the seething gaze boring into her temple. It was a cut-throat world and she didn't make it this far by giving into petty prats nor would she give in to the allure of acting the part. Instead, she merely licked her lips and huffed to voice her own disapproval of the director's excuses.

Besides, had she been in charge of this thing, she wouldn't have taken the abuse like that sniveling old man was. It was then did she turned her head slightly, catching a glimpse of honest emotion, ugly as they were. The woman's feelings were plain as day, like the sky without the fabric of clouds to hide behind. It was honestly quite impressive, the way in which she could actually see the color of her cheeks reddening right before her very eyes. But Jean was the least of her concerns. Even she could not hide her own shock as the director opened the can, worms spilling everywhere. "Share the part?" Lily whispered incredulously. She'd never heard of such a thing; the mere concept was ridiculous, not to mention the fact that she could not even begin to imagine how it would work or why.

Still, she remained stoic, her jaw firmly set as she finally stopped playing with her hair to rest her hands against the table. Again, she could feel Jean's not-so-amicable stare, loaded to the extreme with venom now and Lily could not help but curl her lip slightly. As little as she knew about the other woman, she knew that she was not the only one who had to make many a sacrifice. But in the same vein, she did not feel a hint of empathy. Not when the final outburst reached its climax, and the waterworks came and especially not when Jean's hateful spittle was finally directed at her.

"My fault?" Lily parroted, an eyebrow darting right up in mock surprise but before she could come up with an appropriate response, the young woman had already darted off. She sighed and clicked her tongue. The problem with actors and actresses was that some always took things too far. The brunette made to leave as well, pausing only when she heard the quiet chuckle coming from their director. Her eye twitched and her fingers curled against the table.

Turning her eyes back onto Dave, her expression grew considerably darker. "You are a very small man," she said, the accusation ringing clear as day in her slightly accented tone. "Jean spoke the truth, you did promise the part to one of us and unless this company eats technicalities for breakfast, you went back on your word." She huffed again, "And now you made a child cry. For shame!" It was difficult to tell whether Lily was being purposefully dramatic or demeaning, but it was clear that she had finished her little speech. She couldn't very well throw in the towel now, having put too much effort in already. But she could certainly go about her way in a very disgruntled manner.

She smoothed out her jacket and, like her co-actor did not offer a single farewell to any of the casting crew and stalked away, brushing past the heavy-set furnishing and ducking past the side-curtain in search of Jean. Not to offer any comfort or solace, no. Lily simply wanted to clear the air and above all, demand an explanation for the other's outburst. Being blamed was not a concept she was comfortable or familiar with. Perhaps Jean merely needed an outlet for her frustrations, something Lily understood perfectly. Regardless of the reason, there was no excuse and she would have her apology.

 

[Crescent]

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The hollow clacking of tan, heeled boots on the wooden stage turned to a heavier thunk as Jean passed into the concrete laden backstage area. Determined steps led her past cast and crew with nary a word to offer them. Several of them gave notice of having heard the commotion up front. They're eyes looks sought some acknowledgement from Jean, which was exactly her chin angled down and her her pace stayed just shy of a quick jog. Short huddling beneath a hood and wearing opaque shades like a movie star trying to slip inside a club unnoticed, she knew she could do nothing to hide the tears trailing down her flushed face. Jean might have tried it had she an option other than her v-neck tshirt. They assumptions and judgments they must have held - 'What is she on about now?', 'There's Jean being a brat again', 'What a drama queen' - rang in the young woman's imagination as if they echoed about in the cramped space.

Taking a right in the back hallway, Jean strutted by Jorge, a curly mustached lighting tech and a friend. He too stared at the emotional display on her face, only with an expression of concern. "Hey Jean, what's goin...", Jorge's sentence was cut short as Jean raised a flat hand, palm out, between them in passing. Her aggressive stride carried her into the break room, consisting of a small kitchenette and a large industrial-style steel table. Only a stop in her route, Jean snatched her bag from the table, pivoted about and retreated out the same entrance, leading her past Jorge once again. There was no attempt to raise an explanation a second time. Bag in hand, Jean stepped off the past she had just followed by going straight and heavily palming the push open door marked as a fire exit. With the alarm long malfunctioning, probably disabled, the door outside served a different use, one the fire marshal was unlikely to approve of.

Sunlight shone down brightly on Jean there in the venue's back alley. Her eyes blinked away from the light, but rather than reaching for her sunglasses, she dug right to the bottom of her bag for an unopened pack of Newports and a red Bic lighter. Just as she found them, the fire door began to swing away from her. "Shit!" Jean took a dashing step to just hook her hand around the edge to prevent it from shutting and locking her out. After drawing it fully open again and kicking the conveniently placed wedge of concrete into place, she slumped herself against the blackened brick wall.

Jean let her bag drop to the concrete and began thumping the source of her much needed nicotine fix against the palm of her left hand. The familiar motion served to stall Jean's spiraling emotions and offer her an opportunity to breathe out the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders since fleeing the stage. She yanked off open the pull tab on her Newports and plucked the bottom-left most stick free, bringing it to her lips and inhaling as she flicked the lighter to life at the opposite end. One lengthy lung filling inhale, and she extracted the cigarette between two fingers, flopped her head back against the brick, and let loose the billowy smoke. The release she achieved from that first puff showed in a softened expression and a sinking in her posture.

Finally reflecting on the moment, Jean felt a tinge of regret for her mini tirade. Yes, she was completely justified in being upset. The way they had jerked her around from the beginning was so uncool - failing to make a leading role decision in tryouts, fueling this bullshit competition between her and Lily, and now this. Who'd ever heard of a "split" role, let alone on Broadway!? Dave was just an indecisive buffoon. Who could guess how he came to lead this production in the first place. Erin, the casting director, had seemed nice from the beginning, so far as anyone could read through her toady little smile. Ever since, though, she'd seemed content to watch Jean twist in the wind of uncertainty. Despite all this, she had no real intent to walk out on the part. They had her, and it stung her pride.

The young woman gazed up between the two buildings as she exhaled another trail of smoke. Across the street from where they ended stood the billboards of a dozen other productions. Les Mis, Wicked, The King and I: what she wouldn't give to star in a high profile such a profile show. She laughed a wry chuckle as she thoughts followed further along those lines. There always existed that favorite rumor of who slept with whom for their part. Thankfully, Jean had not felt the need to resort to that at this point in her career.

Letting another puff of smoke drift from her lips, she turned back to the open doorway just in time to notice Lily rounding the corner and looking in her direction. Her eyes rolled away from the sight, and her head followed suit. The absolute last person Jean wanted for company, and a sideways glance confirmed the woman headed her way. Suddenly her half-finished smoke lost its soothing nature, and her mouth tasted of bitter ash. A hint of the anger Jean expressed on stage began to simmer up within her again as she recalled how....unaffected Lily appeared when Dave broke the news. That 'better than all this' attitude she'd put off from the very start was exactly what incensed Jean so much. Without offering anything in the way of eye contact, she spoke out first, "What is it now? Can't you see I'm...busy?" She released another smokey breath out the side of her mouth, leaving it wafting into the doorway. "You could literally go anywhere else right now." Her tone, deeply sarcastic, was tinged again with that resentful bite.

 

[Erebus]

The setting in which Lily might have achieved her big break was, in reality, not very large. There was the staging which was mediocre when one was actually standing there, looking out towards the audience. The lighting was only mildly impressive when a multitude of choices for colors and effects, despite the fact that many a successful play had employed only a single spotlight to succeed. Even wandering down the narrow hall past extras and co-stars, she found herself further uninspired by the place, going so far as to contemplate a million and one reasons to move her ass back to ol' Staffordshire. Then again, regardless of what she came up with, that would never happen. For all the dingy apartments she'd had to stay in, returning home was, in her opinion, comparable to death or worse.

With a sigh, the brunette rubbed a hand over her face, her fingers slipping past her left temple as if to erase an imaginary stain before lingering against the corner of her mouth. The place was small, but there were a lot of places a fuming, sulking child could run and hide away. Even asking the other members of the play, cast and crew alike would have given her little result. From her time here, she'd always kept mostly to herself when possible, refusing to ascribe to the suck-up stereotype people held her up against. That left her with mainly a professional but unfriendly environment where everybody expected her to refuse drinks on a Friday night. There was no point in asking when the answer was always the same.

Nobody could, or would, tell her where Jean ran off to, going so far as to avoid her gaze when she approached them. Fortunately Lily was too far removed to really care or be affected by cold shoulders, though her failure to find her co-star was pushing quite a few of her buttons. Whatever drama was going on in the inner machinations of this company, even she didn't know which one of them were least liked. Delilah Rivers was a no name hailing from a foreign, barely reputable city with even less of a personal reputation and repertoire to boast. Many whispered that Dave had only picked her out of the ragtag bunch because he, like many others, had a not-so-secret fetish for accented she-devils. The worst part was that she couldn't deny such rumors with confidence.

After five or so minutes of searching, Lily was on the verge of giving up her little quest. She made her way back to the room she was allocated to, a nameless door located just around the corner of make-up. Shrugging her jacket off, the leggy brunette near collapsed on her dangerously rickety chair, swiveling it around to glance at her reflection. The mirror had fingerprint stains on it along with unidentified splotches near the tight corners, but at the very least it didn't distort her appearance like many others did. Using her thumb, she wiped away a slight smudge of black eyeliner at the base of her eyelid before cleaning the residue with a fresh Kleenex. She really could have just gone home, call in sick or unwell and further ponder but there was nothing left to think about. She was going to take this part even if it meant sharing. She certainly wasn't new to dealing with unfriendly coworkers, given that she attracted them like flies to honey but that didn't mean she enjoyed the task.

A knock on her door returned her to reality. Lily glanced at the intruder in the mirror, spotting the mousy features of one of the few beauticians, Mia. With the large turtleneck and even larger eye-wear, it was shocking to think that the woman could transform dull and grey to sparkles and spice. "Hey Delilah," was her cheery greeting as she poked just her head and neck around the door. "Some of the guys said you were looking for Jean, which was a surprise." Lily tilted her head back, her ponytail dangling down the back of the chair but found that the furniture was far too old to even try and look at the beautician from that position. Another sigh flew from her lips before she removed her posterior from the seat and stood.

"There was a conflict of interest earlier," the brunette explained, "Jean didn't look like she was in the best of shape. Have you seen her?" Mia pursed her lips. "I promise I won't antagonize." Lily rolled her eyes. She knew that Mia would eventually let loose the other woman's whereabouts, but it was not an unknown tactic for many of the cast members to encourage friendship and rainbows at least where she was concerned. There was a second of silence where Lily almost added something more before Mia grinned. "She was carrying her bag, heading to the alley. Either she killed someone and is making a break for it or... well, I dunno. She's out back."

A mere thank you removed Mia from her door, but now that Lily knew where Jean was, she found that her motivation was severely lacking. Still she felt like she owed it to herself to go through with it, a little bit like pulling teeth with rusty pliers. Leaving her coat at the table, she retreated from her sanctuary and headed towards the fire exit. As promised, the telling, slumping figure of Jean could be seen just before her with the door held ajar by a custom doorstop. Even from the slight distance, Lily could tell that her company was far from wanted. She almost turned around, but now that she'd been spotted and her intentions made clear, she felt like that would be akin to accepting defeat. She tightened her jaw and continued forward, like a marching soldier on a mission.

She stopped just shy of the outside world, leaning her bare shoulder against the cold frame of the doorway. "Yes, very busy, I see that." Lily replied absently, scratching at an old scar on her wrist but doing nothing in terms of waving away the smell of smoke assaulting her senses. She wasn't a big smoker but she did indulge in those sticks of addiction from time to time. "Make no mistake, I'm not here for you." She eyed the temperamental woman with a look that spoke of nothing but disapproval. "I'm here for an explanation regarding your words." Even talking to Jean was tiring. She turned slightly so that part of her shoulder blade was supported by the frame. "How is this, in any way, my fault?"

 

[Crescent]

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Jean drew a clean breath in through her nose just so she could huff it out again in response to the woman's insistence in invading her space. She turned her head deliberately away from the door and crossed her arms. A thin, wavy trail of smoke drifted from the cigarette tucked between two fingers of her right hand. With a tap of her fingertips the spent tip crumbled to the concrete. The showy billboards across the street blurred out of focus in her vision. Her eyes sought a merely direction, not any object of interest. The woman's first mocking words did little to improve her hospitality. Determined as she was not to look upon Lily though, Jean's side-eyed glare found only the brick wall opposite her.

Her eyes stayed to the right even as she turned her head to face forward when Lily spoke again. Just the matter of fact way the woman expressed herself irritated Jean. 'Oh thank god', she mouthed silently, the voice in her mind laced with sarcasm. As if she needed to be told the other woman wasn't here for the sharing of comfort. Jean tried to mask the movement of her lips by raising her cig again for another inhale. The released smoke drifted in a condensed cloud in front of her, a makeshift screen that sadly would dissipate shortly. As it passed her vision again, Jean noticed how near the lit end had crept towards the orange wrapped filter. With an annoyed sigh she cast the butt to the concrete and ground it beneath a boot heel.

The loss of her play-thing, her distraction, meant she had to finally address the brunette in the doorway. Had she bothered to wipe the remnants of tears from her cheeks? Too late to do it now. Jean looked flatly in Lily's direction. "That's what you came here for? Really?" She stalled with another eye-rolling huff, ending with her hazel iris' aimed toward's Lily's shoes. How was it her fault? The accusation had preceded a reasoning certainly, but Jean held it as fact that this snooty woman was to blame. Talking with a haughty swagger, her eyes danced circles around contact with Lily's, "I don't know, you tell me. Fuck if I know why they...why you're still here. It's not like you fit the part." Jean's shoulders resumed their hunched state, with her arms crossed overtop her chest and her head turned way again. She could feel the heat beginning to rise to her face again where crinkled lines showed stern displeasure at having had to give an explanation.

"And," she added after a brief pause glancing over through half lidded eyes, "it's not like you even want this part, Miss 'I'm so above all this'". Jean's lips curled at a particularly cruel thought. She raised her chin and straightened her back, letting fly a mirthless laugh, "Hah!". Her voice trailed off as she continued, "can't even act like you want to be here." Instinctively she raised her right hand to her lips only to find it lacking a cigarette. She exhaled sharply through her teeth and instead plucked the band from her chin-length, chestnut hair. With her butt pressed to the wall, Jean dropped her upper body sharply forward to let it flop down all at once. Using both hands she gathered the deep brown strands in clumps, working them behind her head together before reapplying the orange, elastic binding. The challenging look on her face as she leaned back again made no attempt to dodge away.

 

[Erebus]

Wrinkling her brow lightly, Lily could only pause and contemplate just what she would achieve from dealing with this immature little hussy. The acrid smell of smoke and nicotine should have been enough to turn her away, perhaps bark some nonesense about ruining lungs but ultimately put an end to her attempts at forming, at the very least, a cordial relationship with her co-star. The brooding silence had that vein at her temple throbbing slightly as she tapped her fingers against her cool skin, pursing her lips and glancing at the crumbling brick wall holding Jean upright. There was no way to tell what the other woman was thinking, not that Lily worked particularly hard in trying to dicipher the miniscule reactions. All she knew was that her presence was as much unwelcome as the situation was.

"I figured I'd try and be the bigger person here," Lily shrugged, her response delivered in an equally monotonous tone as her counterpart. Truthfully, it took a lot of her willpower and more not to fall into the snarky attitude she was so accustomed to when coming into contact with people like Jean. She glanced down at the dead cigarette, the blackened stain on the ground matching that of many others she could spy all down the alleyway. She wondered, briefly, just how many belonged to the woman in front of her. Her eyes wandered back up, not to Jean's face but to her neckline, then past her ears. "I fit the part just as much as you do," she replied with a slight wrinkle of her nose. It was hard not to feel offended at that. She was proud of her talents and achievements and if there was one thing she wouldn't take lying down, it was any affront to her acting abilities. "If anything, your disgusting attitude should've been enough to have you kicked out."

Lily turned as Jean continued, the frame of the door digging almost right down her spine uncomfortably, her shoulder facing the woman now as she folded her arms. She had half a mind to kick away the concrete and lock Jean out. If anything, she'd have to pass by her to get back inside. "Because you know me so well," she replied sardonically. It was a criticism she'd heard many times before and hearing it from another voice didn't make it all the more true. She couldn't deny that it was difficult to portray much emotion outside of play-acting, and it was partially the reason why she pursued such a career in the first place. Working off a script, being told explicitly how she should act, it was all easier than figuring things out for herself. Of course, she'd never voice the truth aloud, especially not to her.

She sighed and rubbed the side of her neck as Jean went through the motions of acting like she didn't care. "Look, I'm not here to start a fight, okay?" Her fingers curled against her skin, manicured nails scratching at the goosebumps gently. "We're going to have to share this part, and neither of us are going to back out." Lily's eyes remained fixated on the door in front of her. Her teeth pulled in a glossed lower lip, chewing on it slightly before releasing the flesh for another heckled sigh. "So either we try to meet somewhere in the middle or we'll just have to make do with tearing each other's throats out at every opportunity." Finally, she threw a glance at Jean, her lighter eyes boring into her co-star's without hesitation. "I'm not averse to the idea, but I'd rather not. Too much energy for too little gain, I'm sure you understand."

 

[Crescent]

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The heavy rattling of a moving truck rumbled past their shared alleyway, the vehicle's diesel engine spitting in a noisy acceleration from the intersection just down the street. In the forced halt to their conversation, Jean raised both her elbows up high and rested her wrists atop her head. She crossed her legs, settling her upper body, from the middle of her spine to her shoulders, flatly against the rough textured wall. Her left eyelid drooped just lower than her right in the unofficial staring contest she traded with the other woman. The upward curl of her lips had begun to unravel somewhere in the midst of Lily's criticism of her attitude, and now the suggested truce flattened it entirely. It might have been too much to hope that some directed frustrations might loosen the accented brunette's interest in the role. Still, Jean thought she noticed some chinks in that conceited armor, some signs that the woman could actually be irritated herself. That small victory was soured by the inner admission that Lily was right.

Through whatever butchering Dave was doing to the script, they were stuck portraying the role together. A public feud didn't look particularly good for either then, especially not Jean when matched up against the emotionless ice queen propped up in the doorway. Even with opening night so close at hand they could still drop her portion if she let fly her temper again. The words 'disgusting attitude' spoken in Lily's voice rang in her mind again, almost derailing thoughts of coexistence in exchange for the throat tearing alternative. Luckily she managed to hold back her tongue and keep the flare up limited to a cold glare and a grimaced expression of clenched teeth behind closed lips. Exhaling through her nose, Jean suckled the last bit of flavor from the surface of her tongue and swallowed it along with the proverbial bitter pill.

"Fine." She let her head lull slightly to the side, the direction of her eyes shifting absently to the wall opposite her. Jean couldn't find much else to add to the matter. 'You're right,' might have been an appropriate compliment but there was no way that was gonna happen. In fact, in the month or so since rehearsals had started, Jean could hardly recall a significant exchange between them before now. Casual conversation was never really in the cards when her first introduction to Lily was as a rival who, by the way, is a total elitist bitch. Her right hand drifted down to offer an indifferent scratch to the side of her nose before resuming its place on her head. The alley had lost its appeal, and Jean struggled with the choice of going finding an excuse to head back inside and face the questioning gazes of all those that had seen her storm out or waiting out in silence, hoping that she would grow uncomfortable and leave first. Jean decided she was ok with putting off the communication issue until they were forced to rehearse together on stage.

A buzzing sound coming from within her bag gave Jean an excuse to delay that decision. She eased her back from the wall, feeling the indentations left by uneven chunks of brick pressed against her back, and crouched down to start rummaging in her bag for the source. Plucking out an iPhone encased in teal rubbery plastic, she held it in front her face and swiped her thumb sideways across the screen. With her upper teeth, lower lip and a puff of air, Jean made a nondescript noise, "Pfuh!" With her face screwed up, she reread the screen before flipping her phone to its side, oriented longer than tall, and began to pluck both of her thumbs on a virtual keyboard. Her right thumb hovered over the lower right edge a moment, hesitating, as she looked sternly at the device. After letting out resigned sigh, she tapped her thumb several times just above that spot. Still without uttering a coherent word, Jean looped the strap of her bag over her shoulder and pushed up to standing. Looking slightly fumed, she stepped towards the open doorway, ignoring the cement doorstop. Jean stopped just before crossing the threshold, turning her head towards Lily and speaking in a low, weary tone, "It's for you too." She held up her phone, screen facing out, for the other woman to see. The latest text received was from 'Director Dave'. It read, "Time to rehearse! Where are my girls?" The text input portion held only a capital 'F'.

Without another word, Jean walked inside the empty stretch of hallway, stooping her head slightly and wiping two fingers along either side of her cheeks.