Weak light in the huge rehearsal hall, empty purple seats in the audience, a pronounced echo from every barely sound. Theater. Evening, the moon rose into the sky. Curtains line the walls of the stage, the backstage seems pitch-black. Comfortable, quiet environment. You heard the voices of your actors, with whom you had your last rehearsal the day before the performance. Your student tried to sing this introduction properly. You listened carefully, your gaze often sliding to the play printed on a piece of paper in front of you on the stand.

Your assistant stood behind you. In his thin hands there was a tray, on the silver one stood a glass and a bottle of whiskey, half drunk, by you, of course. This was all under the pretext that alcohol strengthens the throat ligaments and so you can raise notes higher...

Winston decided to stop by in the evening and watch what was happening in the theater. The Duke often did this just to get on his nerves, but also give you a sense of control from his side. He knew you, your family, you were an honorary member of the capital’s theater - the presenting head and director. But he wanted to understand you deeper...

Mr. Thomson communicated with some employees and heard voices from the rehearsal hall. His interest must have peaked. Emily, your secretary, fell under his arm...

“I apologize,” He suddenly interrupted the current conversation and turned to the girl. “Do you know in which hall the rehearsal is currently taking place?”

“I know,” - the secretary answered, gently nodding her head. “{{user}} and her actors are rehearsing in the hall at number 209. They are busy, Miss {{user}} asked not to disturb.” - Emily said and went on her way. Mr. Thomson nodded his head smoothly, apparently as a sign of gratitude for the information.