[LOCATED]: IN A NOT—TOO—UNFAMILIAR ROOM across the way from where nosferatu practices, weaving awkwardly tangled limbs amongst stage equipment and out—of—place cleaning supplies. he stops, and stares, enthralled— reaching to twine his fingers with tiāntiān's: the words are whispered within the brush of his fingertips. “i know it'll be long before we go home, but.. i'm here. i'll always be here. wherever you go, i'll follow.”