Hamilton's Immortal

Respect the house (3.)

[Lin's POV]

"Man, I'm telling you, there was this woman last night. Blew my MIND. She was just... wow..." Leslie went on and on, like a lovesick puppy.

"Hey hey... yea, you told me, bud. For the 18th time." I laugh, he's been like this for an hour now.

"But Lin... who was she? She got in the party, so she's gotta be someone we know, right?"

"You didn't get her name?! Dude, you just said-"

"I know! But um... I guess I smell like alcohol and bad decisions. But she's gotta be on the cast and crew or something, right?" He pushed, smiling. He leaned on the doorframe at my dressing room, a hopeful look about him.

"Leslie, you've been working with the same crew for nearly two years. You'd think you'd recognize her if she worked with us. Unless..." closing my laptop, I almost want to amuse this thought. "Hey, remember when we first started working together? We used to tell new cast members stories of different theatres we worked in."

His eyebrows scrunched together slightly, but he nods for me to continue.

"Well, let me tell you a story about this theatre. You see, I got these letters. Only two so far. One welcoming me and the crew to the theatre, another wishing us good luck. Both signed by the 'Lady of the house'." I talk as I dig out the two envelopes I kept in my bag, handing them to him. "Just... read them."

And he does, and you can see the recognition in his eyes as he makes it through. "Lin... this sounds exactly like her. E, huh? So one of the stage hands is claiming to be a kind of Opera Ghost?" He laughs this time, my exact reaction to the letters the first time. But the joke dies off as he realizes I'm not laughing with him. "Oh shit, you're serious. You think it's some kind of OG situation."

I get up from my chair, running my fingers along my scalp. "I'm not saying it's exactly like the musical, but at least it's better than Chicago being their... her inspiration." We both chuckle at that. "I mean, she doesn't sound dangerous, just mischievous. I'd rather not deal with a pranks at showtime. And it's the seventh, we've been here 3 weeks. I... didn't chance it. And true to word, the check was gone by the time the orchestra set up."

"You cannot be serious. You paid some brat two grand just to ward off shenanigans. A brat you've never met that you dont even know is real." Well, when he sums it up like that, I kinda sound like a wimp.

"Well... yea." Is all I say.
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[Eva's POV]

Wow. That's the last that Leslie's getting from me. Wasn't even worth it.

"Why do I even bother..." I laid on the floor, listening in on the conversation. It's always the same. But hey, at least the brat gets paid. And it was even enough to book my soundproofing need. I sit up, combing my hair from my cheeks. "Well, Mister Miranda has been good, but this Leslie is not turning out to be all the amusing." Getting up, I head out to my catacombs, down a couple of stairs. I opted to stay barefoot, staying silent. Shorts and a deep blue crop top for the day, my hair running freely down my back.

I push open a couple of panels in the wall, opening my way into Leslie's dressing room. And I wait, only a moment as the door opens soon after. I am already sitting on the couch in his room, my legs propped up. "Hello Leslie."

"Y... you. You're that girl from last night." He stutters, the door just closing behind him. "How did... when did... what are you doing here?"

"Well, good to know you won't run if I visit you. Or yell for help." I say, confidently. "I just want you to know... you were really alright in bed. But calling me a brat? Really? I though you had manners. You don't call a Lady a brat."

"You... you're just a kid. How old are you? 18? What are you doing leavin' notes? Pranking Lin? How'd you even get in here?" I just shake my head, clicking my tongue. Standing from the couch, I make my way over to him. "Hey.. don't even think about it." He steps back.

"Tsk tsk... come on, baby... think about it. Did I treat you like I was a kid? I thought I blew your mind..." placing my hands on his chest like I had the night before. "Just know... my rules apply to you too. They apply to the whole crew. So that means..." I step up to my toes, leaning in close to him. "This is my house. Respect it..." my contacts were still in, the golden ring outlining my chocolate one.

His hands went to my waist, gently guiding me back. "This isn't your house. You're just some kid that's trying to make money off of rich people. And you're gonna be arrested. LIN! GET DO-" I still steal a single kiss just to shut him up. His fingers grip into my sides, he just can't help bit kiss me back. But... the moment is just that. A banging on the door brings him back to reality.

"Leslie! What's wrong? I heard you yell." Lin called through the door Leslie leaned against to keep it closed.

"Remember what I said." I whisper against his lips, stepping back from him. He watched me, keeping me in his sight as he reaches for the door handle. But as he moves to open it, I disappear into the wall. A breath and I'm gone.

"She was right here. I swear." I can head Leslie breath, confused. "Dude, she's super real. Like, really real." I cover my mouth, hiding my giggle.

"Well, she can't have just disappeared and I was right here at the door." Lin said. The echo of cast members filling the stage area tells that people are ready for rehearsal. "Come on, we've got worked to do." And the sound of the door tells me they are gone.

I sigh... just a kid, huh. Well, I'll keep my word. He paid up, I'll leave them be. For now.

I head back upstairs, in only to climb into the rafters. I balance onto my usual beam, looking down over the cast. Leslie definitely looked out of it, but he'll be fine. Singing will help him feel better.

"...and if you guys see something weird, let me know. I think some kid got in and is messing with our set. So, let's do this!" Lin finishes up.

I glare down from the shadowed rafter. So, what part of this is respecting the house? Wanting to play it safe? I take the check from my pocket that I collected earlier. I'll just have to soundproof at a later date. I rip it into pieces and let it fall to the stage, the snowfall of pieces landing near Lin as he lingered to talk to the stage manager.

Play time.
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[Lin's POV]

Little pieces of paper land on my head, and looking up, I don't even see where it came from. Looking over the pieces, I can piece together my signature...

"No..." There goes the insurance. She heard me.

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6/21/17