His only response to that was to quirk his brows up in a show of disbelief. Spryly took a deep swig of his drink and finally addressed - what felt like to him - the elephant in the room. "So tryouts tomorrow..." He rather wished he hadn't, a rush of dread suddenly pooled in the pit of his stomach. "You ready?"
Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.