Mayor Clash - (Male) - A corrupt mayor centered on Orlinia’s biggest murder trial of the century.

Narrator:

The back door near the kitchen opened. A cold draft of air blew in from outside. Clash walked in with his coat collar turned up in an effort to conceal his face. He entered the private dining room and stared down at the broken dish fragments at the base of the door as the manager swept them into a dustpan.

Clash shook the snow from his coat and placed it on the chair at the end of the table. He sat down with a panicked look on his face, rubbing away what little gray hair remained on the top of his bald head. He spoke with Antony, clearly worried and for good reason.

Clash:

(Shaking the chill and snow off, Anxious/Nervous)

“Thank you for seeing me last minute,”

Narrator:

 said Clash, shaking from the chill and worry from head to toe.

Clash:

(Anxious/Nervous)

“Look I—”

Narrator:

Antony raised his hand, forcing Clash to wait until the manager had left.

Manager:

“Good evening, Mr. Mayor. Could I get you something to drink?”

Clash:

(Anxious/Nervous)

“Double shot of scotch on the rocks, please,”

Narrator:

Clash replied, seemingly doing his best not to lock eyes with the manager.

The manager glanced over at Noal. Noal shook his head, informing him he didn’t want anything. The manager turned back around and walked out of the room, leaving the three gentlemen to discuss their delicate business in private.

Clash:

“Look, I didn’t mean to get Sierra, nor you involved in this. She wasn’t there on business as one of your board members,”

Macy/Missy - (Female) - A nightclub manager and director with an assertive and outspoken attitude 

Mousel:

“Give her a bath and a place along with the other girls upstairs,” 

Narrator:

Madam Mousel said.

Robin’s eyes bounced back and forth between the two women. 

Robin:

“That’s not necessary. I really couldn’t. I can’t even dance.”

Macy:

“Who ever said anything about dancing?” 

Narrator:

replied the director, giving Robin another look with her pointed eyebrows.

Robin felt completely lost, but at the same time she had never been sure of where she was.

Mousel:

“As I said before, dear, it’s all on me,” 

Narrator:

Madam Mousel replied. She then turned her back and began walking back through the restaurant towards the door.

Robin watched Madam Mousel leave, then turned her attention back to the director standing before her.

Macy:

“You have a name?” 

Robin:

“Robin. A few of my friends back home call me Bird,” 

Macy:

“I’m Macy, but just call me Missy.”

Robin:

“Who was that? Does she own this hotel?” 

Macy:

“Madam Mousel (M-o-sell)? No, but she’s probably close though. Give her long enough, and she might. I guess you could call her a saint dressed in black, if there even was such a title. She’s the theater owner and hotel manager,”

Robin:

“Is she known for picking up strangers off the street very often?”

Macy:

“Only when she sees something of worth. Obviously, she sees some in you, otherwise she would have just left you out in the snow. So, count your blessings.”