
It’s known that Alistair the Enchanter, John, doesn’t like to be disturbed following a show, it’s not that he’s tired, or enjoying post-show celebrations with an assistant ( he’d need to have one, first of all ), but he’s ALIVE. High and erratic on the thrill of the show, fat on the applause of his audience who adore him so. But the door opens, and it warrants a curve of his brow. Trembling hands drop the waistcoat to the seat of his chair, and he adopts a calm composure as he turns and GRINS. He’s laughing as he looks her up and down, and leans against the dressing table as arms cross over his chest.
“ Enjoy the show THAT much? How’d you get past Jack? “