These butterflies in her stomach were typically reserved for the minutes before the curtain raised on opening night. The ballerina couldn’t even remember the last time her gut settled on this type of reaction to a man’s smile. Not even when she and Dempsey met before, did she feel this way. Was this an instance where absence makes the heart grow fonder? If so, she’d have to credit him a game well-played. Even as she idly chatted with others and set her plans in motion, her mind lingered on how he wore a different cologne tonight. She could have dismissed this as a simple courtesy (to protect herself, she should). But the way he looked at her drew goosebumps on the backs of her arms; his gaze was filled with more intent than courtesy.

Freshly motivated, Sophia made quick work of her promise. Seamus would hear that she left a bit early because she was tired, a pretty brunette corps dancer didn’t mind resting in the dim room of her dressing room if he bothered to peek in later. He’d be too preoccupied by Damien’s complaints about the lighting angles to pursue Oz exiting across the room several minutes later.

When Ozy made his escape to the ticketing counter, a gentleman was there waiting for him. He greeted Ozymandias exuberantly, sure to be overheard by anyone the other might have just been speaking to. Clearly, the man was a bit drunk, having heavily imbibed in the box seats opposite the Demspey’s. Though his relationship to Sophia was unclear, a heavy Russian accent suggested he had a similar familiarity to her as Karina. He led them behind the ticketing counter and through a locked door to reveal a dim wood paneled and carpeted hallway beyond (though a rather strange hallway, considering there were no other doors besides the one they just opened). All the while, the man went on conversationally about some board meetings investors should attend, or how he was quite lucky to be shown the patents. “Ah, this is where we go separate ways, the producer shall meet you here,” he announced abruptly, fumbling with the key on the lock of the door they just went through. Opened again, it revealed a different room - a smokey one with strange music. “Enjoy your evening, good sir!” With a salute, he disappeared into that room and closed the door with a locked click.

Sophia didn’t keep him waiting. After a few seconds the wall across the door shifted aside, pleating as if the panels were just curtain fabric. The ballerina stood there with a conspiratorial smile, having changed from her costume to a more relaxed dress like the one she wore for rehearsal. Her tiara was gone, hair brushed into long tresses that grazed her upper arms.

“You made it. I hope without too much trouble?” she asked teasingly, taking a demure step backwards to suggest where she would like him to follow. The step made her shorter; she was on a staircase that led to the level below the theater. “Apologies for making you go through these motions… As you can imagine, Lennon is not very pleased with me. Ordinarily I wouldn’t go to such great lengths to hide my intentions.” She turned her back to Oz to lead their way, eventually bringing them to another quiet hall that looked a bit like the one by the dressing rooms.

Sophia took them to a handsome wooden door, and leaned against it while she picked the right key from a ring she wore on her wrist like a bracelet. It was hard to miss the gold plaque on the door, emblazoned with the name Seamus Lennon. Sophia’s eyes caught his with a playful smile as she finally unlocked it for them. “This may not be the most interesting room of the theater, but I promise you this is the last place anyone would think to look if they need me,” she explained. “Besides, Seamus is a selfish bastard. He makes a point to keep the top notch liquor all to himself here.”

All she said was true, from a practical sense. Though less practically, Sophia had a reckless appreciation for flirting with danger and trouble, so she enjoyed that they were being sneaky.

---