𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝔸𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤, 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕦𝕤𝕥 |ℍ𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕓𝕒 𝕊𝕒𝕘𝕦𝕣𝕦|

十一: 𝕀𝕥'𝕤 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕨𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖

You nervously fidgeted with the ends of your dress. A howling gust of wind whipped your hair, which you had worked so hard to style, into a bird's nest. The hairspray you had used to secure the style helped to keep it in place helped it somewhat.

You were waiting outside in a line for entry to the performance. As a way to pass time, since there was still some time before the doors opened, you decided to go people-watching.

A middle-aged brunette woman with her teenage daughter. You caught a whiff of the mother's flowery perfume as she passed by. They appeared to be walking home from a shopping trip from the various shopping bags in their hands. A young businessman in a navy blue suit and red tie yapping into his phone, probably yelling at a subordinate. An old man who looked to be in his 70s hobbling past you, leaning heavily on his brown wooden cane with a golden gleam to it.

You pulled out your phone and examined your reflection. You had done some makeup, not so much that it was obvious, but enough to make you look different. Your cheekbones were more defined along with your nose bridge. Your eyes seemed to have more depth thanks to the masterful use of shadow and highlights you had applied to them, and your lips were fuller thanks to the plumping lip gloss.

Your lips needed a touch-up, so you pulled out the tube of (f/c) lip gloss and applied a thin coat of it, rubbing your lips together back and forth before putting it away.

The line in front of you began to move. You hurriedly dug your ticket out of your clutch and smoothed out the creases and folds. While you waited, you took to examining the other people waiting in line. They were all dressed to the nines and you could practically feel the wealth radiating off of them in waves. While it didn't specifically state on the website that this was a black-tie event, the ticket prices sure said otherwise.

With a pang of jealousy and embarrassment, you examined your own outfit. It was put together and well-thought-out, yeah, but it wasn't as elaborate as some others. A (f/c) evening gown paired with matching shiny heels. A small, structured satin handbag that was only big enough to cram your phone, lipstick, and folded-up ticket in. A pearl necklace was draped around your neck and diamond drop earrings completed the look. Around your wrist was a sterling silver bracelet Saguru had given to you for your second anniversary. It had multiple charms on it, such as a hawk for Watson, a stack of books piled up on top of each other, a cup of tea, and one with your initials engraved onto it. You had debated about whether to wear it or not, but it went well with your outfit and you did in the end.

Standing at the front of the line, you handed it to the ticketing agent. He scammed the barcode on the bottom and tore off that portion before handing the rest back to you.

"Enjoy the show. Miss."

The warm glow of the theatre lights as you stepped inside put you at ease. You found your seat soon enough, as it was all the way in the back. Not only was it relatively cheap compared to other seats, but as it was all the way in the back, Spider would have a harder time recognizing you. If he did at all. The makeup made you look not like yourself.

As you waited for the show to start, you amused yourself with taking in the theatre. The red velvet stage curtains were drawn shut, keeping what was about to happen a secret. Conversations bounced off of the high, arched ceiling and walls. An elegant gold chandelier with lights that scattered light across the theatre like thousands of shattered glass shards, twinkling and dancing like ballerinas. A painting depicting the death and rebirth of Christ stretched across the ceiling and around the chandelier.

Stretching your head back, you could make out the cream-colored underside of the balcony above you. The scent of dust, perfume, and gunpowder filled the space.