Sophia had few illusions about what this was mounting to, and even fewer about the circumstances of what she could assume of Dempsey’s personal life. A man with all the money and time of leisure does not simply abscond with a performer. No, they’re almost always running away from something - that something usually being an unwitting wife. Though it might make her curious, she wouldn’t pry. She wouldn’t know the first thing about a loveless marriage anyway. Moreover, it exposed too much of her - the word “shame” was not a part of Sophia’s lexicon, particularly not when it came to natural behavior.

“My sentiments exactly,” she emphasized, returning his look with something like a mischievous Cheshire-cat grin. Without much warning, she turned and began her ascent up the staircase, allowing the man to follow. “Don’t fall,” she threw casually over her shoulder, because really these steps are quite treacherous for someone who isn’t light on their feet. There were charms at the top to catch anyone from a truly catastrophic fall, of course - it was the only way they could morally accept the idea of sending stagehand kids to crawl up the beams for some of the enchantments. But Sophia was certain Seamus would never cease his bitching if she was responsible for the near-death tumble of their newest patron.

The staircase let out at the end of the catwalk, a long, narrow, and thinly-railed rafter that ran the length of the stage just above. It connected to other catwalks too, in a discrete web of pathways that in the darkness of performances and a well-placed charm, made the stagehands’ work up here completely imperceptible to the audience. Sophia strolled with confidence down the platform, placing one foot delicately in front of the other until she reached the spot above center stage. Here the platform was a bit wider, leaving room for a stagehand to maneuver with a spotlight. “This is where the magic happens,” she proclaimed once Mister Dempsey joined her. In more ways than one.

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