[ if he ever asked, she'd just say she's used to changing in front of people - after all, quick costume changes during performances means stripping down to her underthings backstage, no matter who might be passing by. but it's a test, really - forced informality, seeing how he'll respond, pushing at the notion that he's changed since they were younger.

when she sees him turn around, affording her even more modesty than just the screen, she's not sure what she feels. security, she supposes, that he's here for a good reason. confusion for what that reason could be. disappointment lurking beneath, that it looks so easy for him to resist.

but as long as he's not looking at her, her eyes roam over him while she dresses. the line of his shoulders, the cut of his suit, the mop of red hair that she can't even call a mop anymore because of its neatness. it's been a long time since she's let herself look at anyone like this. ]

They're very disheartened that I don't have a romantic life for them to be invested in. [ they're all i have, she nearly says, but she doesn't want to be depressing. ] So they have a lot of pent-up energy I'm sure they'd expend on any friend of mine. Not that you'd know anything about that.

[ she hesitates before she goes on, asks the question that's been on her mind since she saw him in the audience. ] Did you have plans for us this evening, after surprising me at my show?