Quoted By:
The usher doesn’t even give your motley band of reprobates a second look once he checks your tickets and directs you to a spacious private box.
To be fair, they’ve probably seen more eccentric weirdos here before, given that this is an opera house. Both the regular clientele and the stage performers are probably more than a little touched in the head.
Judging from the way that folks are still filing into the theater, you’ve arrived a little early.
In a rare departure from his usual public stoicism, Jack is practically bouncing in his seat from excitement. You smile ruefully to yourself and note that even if this proves to be a total snorefest, it’ll have been worth it to see him in such high spirits. Ultimately, that’s the point of this whole trip, to make a few happy memories before the opportunity permanently slips away.
Thoth seems bored, but the way that he is intently studying the playbill reveals that he’s more invested in this than he’d like to broadcast. Knowing him, he’s probably a huge fan of Miguel Cervantes and Don Quixote; just hope he’s not one of those genre purists who throws a tantrum whenever an adaptation deviates slightly from the path of the original.
Pandion doesn’t seem to have strong opinions either way, but perks up a bit when you idly reference that operas and Greek tragedies tend to share quite a bit in terms of theme. Not to mention the musical sections.
Meanwhile, Set already looks like he’s about to wither away from sheer unadulterated boredom. Much like a teenage delinquent left alone with a box of Chinese fireworks, he’s itching for an excuse to light the fuse and cause a bit of ruckus. You catch his attention and silently mouth a warning that if he does <span class="mu-s">anything</span> to ruin this for Jack, you’re going to beat him to a pulp and feed whatever remains to Nessie. You wink to let him know that you’re mostly just kidding around. <span class="mu-i">Mostly.</span>
In contrast, Bobo seems equally disinterested yet keeps his thoughts on the down-low. To help stave off the encroaching weariness, he smuggled in a flask of vintage liquor. When he notices that you’ve spotted his contraband, he covertly slips it to you as a bribe for your silence. When Jack isn’t looking, you sneak a hefty slug of dutch courage in an attempt to keep the edge off and slide it back his way.
Fortunately, the curtain is pulled up shortly after, and the play begins in earnest with the introduction of the eponymous madman; Don Quixote.
