ghost light.

lost.

"Hey, Dee said she's still packing up her stuff in the dressing room and we're free to meet her there if we want. She said that mostly everyone's greeting friends and family here in the lobby," he glanced up at you and you gave a small nod.

"You sure we're allowed back there? I mean we're not family or company members, you really think they'll just let us backstage?"

"I mean yeah, and if anything just act like you belong. If you exert confidence, no ones going to question you," He gave a small laugh. "Don't worry about it." He removed his notebook and pen, holding them in his hand with his phone resting on top before making his way out towards the stage door with you close behind, catching it after one of the company members left and just before it shut. You followed his lead as he maneuvered his way throughout the backstage confines of the theater and past doors, trying to keep up.

As you made your way through the halls, a door swung open just before you, causing you to stop abruptly to avoid any type of damaging contact. A cast member slipped out, muttering some "sorry"s and "didn't see you there"s before making their way past you and out towards the stage door. Oliver proceeded without you, you'd assumed because he hadn't a clue that you'd almost crashed, navigating his way easily through this labyrinth of a theater. You'd swear he'd watched too many Looney Toons segments as a kid. With how his mind runs a mile a minute, Wile E. Coyote and Roadrunner must have been his personal influences.

You stepped towards what you thought was the right direction, through a hall with a couple scattered doors on both the left and right but instead reached the edge of where the wings met the backstage halls. Your curiosity peaked as you stepped casually out towards the stage, taking in the sights of the dimmed LEDs illuminating parts of the stage as the rest of the room was filled with the subdued glow of the house lights, subtly grazing the corners of the set and stage. The empty theater was eerily soothing-the comfort of silence, the depth and ambiance-you started to understand the appeal. It had a sense of solitude and livelihood coexisting within the expansive room, a sense of warmth and vulnerability.

The feeling of displacement washed over you, knowing you shouldn't be trespassing in their solemn environment. Undeniably, this wasn't where you were supposed to be but you couldn't help being caught in a trance with the vastness of the room. Surely you'd get to your intended destination eventually or at the very least, end up finding your way back out but what you weren't going to admit was the fact that you were-

"Lost?"

Spinning on your heel to confront the deep resounding voice behind you, you were met with the amber gaze of an exquisitely tall man leaning his shoulder against the doorway you'd just entered through, hands tucked in his pockets as he filled the frame. His face was a trace of stern but with patterns of freckles and moles gracing his skin - from what you could catch as the glow of the theater reached him. His jet black hair was combed neatly back and out of his face with soft curls gently falling over his ears, a coy smirk making its way ever so lightly to the corner of his rose flushed lips. Authority. He exhibited an aura of pure command and authority but he knew that of course, dressed to the nines in an all black suit paired with a silver watch and all.

He was attractive, in the full sense of the word, but you wouldn't let that distract you. Gathering your composure by softening the tensed look you unintentionally had on and straightening your posture, you gave him a small polite smile. "What gives you that impression?"

He started effortlessly despite how tense his jaw was set, "Well first off, you haven't a clue as to which direction you need to be heading in, indicates you're not exactly familiar with the layout of the theater." He paused to take in your appearance, not in a provocative kind of way but more so in an evaluative sense, one as if he was peering into your obvious discomfort. He continued his thought as you shifted your stance near self-consciously. "You've also got that post-show glow about you. You know, the dissociative bewilderment of trying to process the piece of art you just witnessed."