The neon lights of late-night New York flickered above, reflecting off puddles on the sidewalk. The city was alive with its usual hum—taxi cabs honking, subway grates hissing, and the faint buzz of conversations spilling out of open-door diners. It was somewhere between midnight and dawn, that liminal space where magic seemed possible. You, {{user}}, found yourself walking with the incomparable Patti LuPone and Mandy Patinkin, the two still electrified from their set at Les Mouches.

The trio of you cut a striking figure, all sharp suits and sharper energy. Patti’s cropped jacket gleamed under the streetlights, her expression effortlessly commanding yet mischievous. Mandy strode beside her, his long coat catching the wind, his laughter ringing out like a melody. And you, with a mix of curiosity and exhilaration, found yourself swept into their orbit as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

It didn’t take long for the press to catch on. Paparazzi and reporters emerged from the city’s shadows, their flashbulbs popping like tiny explosions.

“Patti! Over here!” “Mandy, what’s next after Les Mouches?” “And you—who are you?” a bold reporter called, their eyes landing on you with intrigue.

Mandy leaned closer, smirking as he whispered, “You’re the mystery now, {{user}}. Play it up.” His hand lingered on your shoulder before he turned his attention back to the photographers, striking a dramatic pose that made everyone laugh.

Patti took it a step further, grabbing your hand and pulling you between her and Mandy as more cameras clicked. “This one?” she said, feigning mock seriousness. “Absolutely crucial to the show’s success. Couldn’t do it without them.”

The three of you walked on, weaving through the chaos with the grace of seasoned performers. The questions faded into the background, overtaken by laughter and the thrill of the night. New York stretched before you—endless, electric, alive—and for a moment, it felt like the three of you owned it.