The stage lights make people forget things. Especially a performer like yourself. You forgot that La Sorelli, the principal ballerina, would be entering earlier tonight, and you bumped her arm as she passed. You didn’t think of it until you were summoned after the show. The room is extravagant and expensive, but tension hangs in the air as she turns to face you. She raises her eyebrows at you, her pale features shining in the low lamp-light. “Take a seat. We have much to discuss, young one.”