Just when she was about to lose her mind she suddenly looked at the man who had delivered the note. She had forgotten he was even there. She had become lost in her own world with the problem of now having to perform in front of a full house on opening night.

“Uh,” she said a bit flustered. “No...no it's fine.” She looked out the window as a carriage pulled up and the driver leaped down and headed to the door. It was Vincenti's driver, but alas no Vincenti.

She headed out the door, ushering the messenger out as well before locking the door. The driver helped her into the carriage. She called out from inside. “You're welcome to join me. It will be a lot easier than running back."

“Thank you, Miss Shardakov.” The messenger said. “It would be most welcome, it’s quite a distance from the corner of 12th and 23rd.” He clambered inside after her, placing his hat onto his lap and taking another breath before smiling. “It’s also very cold.”

"That it is," she said, and wrapped her plain shawl a bit tighter around the shoulders. She watched the scenery pass by as they travelled. The conversation was nothing of interest. Belle's nerves were getting to her.

The coach made it’s way rather hastily to the Apollo theatre, pulling up near to a short, fat figure who was running back and forth animatedly, arms waving and shouting at everyone who vaguely had anything to do with the theatre, and snapping into a very calm and gentleman like approach to anybody not.

“Will you move that bloody thing inside quickly and set it up on the stage you lazy fat useless.” he then bowed slightly and stepped out of the way of a well dressed woman who carried some bags came past. “Pardon Madame.”

“You, you! Dancing girls! Inside and get ready for rehersal in five minutes or I’ll- Belle!” he said suddenly turning from the ballet dancers to the woman in the carriage. “Thank GOD you’re here Madame, eet is a disasteur of grande proportions! Poor Claude dead from a terrible accident! Oh le horreur!”

Belle shrugged, "That's really unfortunate..." she trailed off. She then realized she had become a bit numbed to death after she was forced to deal with her own tragedy at a young age alone.

“Ah, but of course, such stoic actresses such as yourself know the show must perform, non?” he dabbed at his eyes with a small kerchief before barking at a worker who had dropped a bust. “You thundering lummox! You will have that out of your wages I will be sure of it! Get the fucking thing inside now!” He then turned to Belle and smiled. “Pardon my francais.” he chuckled. “Now, seeing as you’re early, tres early we shall go inside now and sort out the dress, non?”

"Oh, uh...sure," Belle said and watched the business of it all. She had never been in a performance before, and therefore didn't consider herself a 'stoic actress' but she knew to keep the profits they still had to deliver a somewhat enjoyable show. Without which, things could be disasterous. "Where exactly do I go?"

“Through the entrance those lummoxes are going in and out of,” he suddenly shouted. “Breaking things!” He then turned back to her, his voice snapping back to normal. “Third door on the right, into Miss Houstons room, it will already have your name on it. B.A Shardakov in a star, we move so rapidly, non? Inside you should see Miss Kasha. She‘s a wizard with a needle.”

"Wonderful," Belle said with wide eyes and went out on her way, searching for this mysterious dressing room. She hadn't been planning to need to dress up at all. Once she found the dressing room, she slipped timidly inside (for it seemed so wrong entering someone else's space), where she was greeted with a frantic, smiling, red-headed girl who immediately took it upon her self to start removing her clothes.