Worst show ever: aftermath

A couple of days after the nightmare show, Hugo is hanging around, working on some new material. Feeling out of sorts about recent events, he paced around his dressing room before making a decision. He walked out and down the hall, hoping that Zola hadn't headed home yet this afternoon.

He knocked three times on the door with his cane. "Zola? Are you still here?"

"Gimme a moment!" Rustling can be heard through the door as Zola sets aside some boxes she's been working with before goes to crack open the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Silver." She smiles to see him and, giving the door a light push to open the rest of the way, turns back into the dressing room. She's wearing a burgundy cardigan over a loose fitting black skirt, quite casual for her. "C'mon in, if you want, I cleared the divan. I decided to tidy this place up during the downtime. You wouldn't believe how much I've managed to cram into this little room." She gestures to a rather large number of hat boxes above a wooden wardrobe as an example.

Hugo steps in and surveys the scene. "One marvels at the efficiency, indeed." He comes in and takes a seat on the offered divan.

"I thought, perhaps, in the wake of the disturbing scene the other day, I might talk to you about - well, what may or may not have actually happened, and who was involved. So much that I have heard about, only in snippets here and there. And then - and then there is the matter of the beautiful Eirini. I have been trying for some time to reconcile everything that happened, both before and during the show, and her rather peculiar behaviour and disappearance."

Hugo pauses, as if to compose his next words carefully.

"I have come to the conclusion that I was, at least partially and during some points that evening, under an effect of some sort, whose exact nature is not quite clear to me - perhaps an effect from a ring? And that Eirini was responsible."

Zola took on a bit of a grin when Hugo first mentioned Eirini and kept sorting her hosiery and other unmentionables into some repurposed hatboxes.  As he finished, though, she realized he wasn't leading into a joke.  As she turns to look at Hugo, her face is troubled.  

"An enchantment, you think?  Did she make you do anything to sabotage the show?"

"Other than ... well, to keep me ... distracted, during a period when I might have been preparing, no." Hugo shuffles uncomfortably. "But I concede that that might have happened regardless. No, I think that that is all the more surprising, that she did not ask or require of me anything that I would not have willingly done in other circumstances." Hugo sits in thought, trying to figure it all out.

Zola gives him a rueful smile.  "I spent the past couple days wondering if I should be worried for her, or angry at her for trashing Tits' place.  I guess we know which one to go with now."  Sighing, she tosses the garters she's holding onto the dresser and approaches the divan.

"I'm sorry, Huey.  I should have known something was up."  She reaches up to run her fingers through Hugo's hair affectionately.  "I thought I felt something weird when we were talking in her doorway... but you didn't seem bothered... and Aubrienne had been anxious since before we even got to talk to her.  Then introductions became a grand tour... and I figured you were just being friendly."  Using her crimson lacquered nails she begins to put his hair back into place.

"Now I think maybe her choice of 'song-bird' was a sore loser's quip."

Hugo tries not to flinch at Zola's pet name for him. "I can't help but feel that I should have done something differently. But Void knows what that would be. As you say, I might well have given a tour to an esteemed visitor. But what I don't know is how her visit relates to the other mischief. Was she merely a distraction? Was she a collaborator, or was her purpose unrelated? That seems too improbable, to be mere coincidence." He frowns and steeples his fingers pensively.

"And then there is the question of motive. This is, after all, the establishment of Princess Titania - a political motive can't be ruled out. But then, it's all too simple. If you wanted to make a political statement, be explicit and call out your loyalty to Psyra. If you dislike the emperor, say so! Void knows he has enough enemies after all these years."

"I'll talk to Tits, obviously. She needs to know this. But also I think we need more information. We don't have all the pieces of the puzzle."

"Don't tie yourself up in knots over it, hun; the city pays the guard for that. We just need to make sure Tits knows everything we do. And it's not like she can't ask her daddy to put someone on the case if she's really desperate. Maybe they already know who the stiff is and the story's already half written." She turns back to her dresser to resume sorting things for later Mending.

"I suppose you're right. In the end, no permanent harm done, and it isn't our responsibility." Hugo stands, still not seeming quite satisfied, though. "I'll leave you to your work. Thanks, as always." He smiles, warmly, and leaves.