Super Trick or Treat System

She was immediately in the most important position, forgotten tears.

"I'm just outside," Litchfield had left him.

Before he closed the door behind him, Diane was in front of the mirror, kicking her fingers around her eyes with a paper towel to transfer the stream of mascara.

"Okay," she muttered, "it's so cute to have a blesser. Do you know who he is?"

"His name is Litchfield," Galloway said to her. "He used to be the trustee of the theater."

"Maybe he wants to give me something."

"I doubt it."

"Oh, don't drag Terrance like that." she growled. "You just can't stand other people's attention, can you?" "My fault."

She stared into her eyes.

"How do I look?" she asked.

"fine."

"I'm very sorry."

"prior to?"

"You know."

"Oh yes."

"I'll see you at the bar, won't I?"

Obviously he has been fired, and his function as a lover or confidante is no longer needed. Lichfield waited patiently in the shady corridor outside the locker room. Although the lighting here is better than on the dim stage, and he is now closer than the night before, Galloway still can't fully distinguish the broad face. What happened-this thought buzzed in his mind? -Some false information about the function. His facial flesh did not move like a chain system of muscles and tendons. It was too stiff and too pink, almost like scar tissue.

"She's not ready yet," Galloway told him.

"She is a lovely woman," Lichfield whispered.

"Yes."

"I do not blame you……"

"Ok."

"She may not be an actress."

"You won't interfere with you,? I won't let you."

"Destroy thoughts."

Litchfield's embarrassingly voyeuristic pleasure made Galloway no longer as respected as before.

"I won't make you sad-"

"My interest is your interest, Terrance. The only thing I have to do is to see this production boom, trust me. In this case, is it possible for me to disturb your mistress? Terrance, I Will be as meek as a lamb. "No matter who you are," his testimony replied, "you are not a lamb.

A smile appeared on Lichfield's face again, and the tissues around his mouth barely stretched to accommodate his expression.

Galloway bit into his tavern with the predatory sickle, no reason to worry.

Diane Duvall is preparing to play her role in the mirror cell of her dressing room. She announced: "Mr. Lichfeld, you can come in now." He was at the door before the last syllable of his name died on her lips.

"Miss Duvall," he bowed slightly in respect. She smiled. Very polite "Please forgive me for my mistake?"

She looks very. It always melts men.

"Mr. Galloway..." she began.

"I think he is a very persistent young man."

"Yes."

"Maybe he didn't draw his attention to his leading lady?"

She frowned slightly, a wrinkled wrinkle, where the arched eyebrows converged.

"I think it is."

Lichfield said: "He is the least professional." "But please forgive me-an understandable trouble."

She moved in front of him, walked towards the lights in the mirror, and turned around, knowing that they would lighten her hair more flatteringly.

"Well, sir...Litchfield, what can I do for you?"

Lichfield said: "Frankly, this is a subtle thing." "The sad truth is-what should I do?-Your talent is not ideally suited for this kind of production. Your style lacks sophistication."

There was a few silences. She sniffed, thinking about the inference of this sentence, and then walked from the center stage to the door. She didn't like the beginning of this scene. She was expecting an admirer; instead, she had a critic in her hands.

"Get out!" she said, her voice like slate.

"Miss Duval-"

"You heard my voice."

"You're not as comfortable as the viola, are you?" Lichfield continued, as if the star said nothing. "It's none of your blood," she exhaled.

"But yes. I saw the dress rehearsal. You are plain and unconvincing. The comedy is very flat, and the party scene-which should make us sad-is lead."

"I don't need your opinion, thank you."

"You have no style-"

"pissed off."

"There is no existence, no style. I'm sure that on TV, you are shining, but you need a special truth on stage. Frankly speaking, you lack a soul."

The scene heats up. She wanted to beat him, but couldn't find the right motivation. She can't take this faded posture seriously. He wears neat gray gloves and a neat gray bow tie, not a plot comedy. Stupid Queen Vespa, what does he know about acting?

She said: "Go out before I call the stage manager." But he walked between her and the door. Rape scene? Is that what they are playing? Was he hurt for her? God forbid.

He said: "My wife once played the viola-"

"It's good for her."

"-She thinks she can breathe a little bit more for her character than you."

"We are open tomorrow." She found herself replying, as if defending her existence. Why should she reason with him? Break in here and make these terrible remarks. Maybe it was because she was a little scared. His breath was close to her, and he smelled expensive chocolate.

"She knows her role well."

"That part is mine. I am doing it. Even if I am the worst viola in the history of drama, I am doing it, okay?" She tried to stay calm, but it was difficult. About him made her nervous. She is not afraid of his violence, but she is afraid of something.

"I'm afraid I have promised to my wife."

"What?" She glanced at his arrogance.

"Constancia will play a role."

She laughed at the name. Maybe this is a comedy after all. Things from or, arches, things per catty. But he speaks with absolute certainty. Constanta will play the role; it seems that everything has been chopped up. "I won't discuss this anymore, Buster, so if your wife wants to play the viola, she will have to do it on the **** street. Okay?"

"She will be open tomorrow."

"Are you deaf, fool, or both?"

Control, the inner voice tells her that you are playing and have lost control of the scene. No matter what the scene. He walked towards her, the mirror lamp illuminating the face under the brim full of hat. When he first appeared, she didn't look closely enough: now, she saw the deeply etched lines, the gaps between the eyes and the corners of the mouth. This is not meat, she is sure. He was wearing latex equipment and the glue was badly stuck in place. Her hand almost twitched with the desire to **** it and reveal his true face.

of course. This is the scene she is playing: unveiling.

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