"You have a workshop? What do you make?" asked Lily. Perhaps she could get on his good side by showing interest in his chosen profession.
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Emilena was barely let into the dressing rooms when a man in a tight suit rushed over to her. "Are you StarPuppy?!?" he demanded in a high voice.
"It's 'Miss Cimarron' to you," she retorted, narrowing her eyes.
"We found her, roll tapes!" he yelled into a headset. "If you're ever this late again, you can forget about working here ever!" he shouted at her.
She snarled in response, but held her tongue as he raced away. In the dressing room she unflinchingly borrowed the other dancer's blush.
"Hey--!" the Golden Retriever protested, but quickly submitted when Emilena flashed her eyes and bared her teeth menacingly.
"Quiet! Get out now or I'll rip your jugular from your neck!" Emilena hissed, and the stripper wasted no time complying. Emilena turned to her teammates. "Marita, you've done your job, go do whatever you want. Adrian, perhaps these three minutes could be spent locating where the less publicized functions of this establishment occur."
Ten seconds until show time, her mental clock counted. With that she strode backstage, and after a reassuring (and unwitnessed) gulp, crossed the curtain.
When she took the stage, there was no announcement, no fanfare, no real recognition. Just a bunch of rowdy drunks, some wolf whistles and cat calls, and the pungent smell of sweat, drugs, alcohol, and oil. After a brief curl of her lip when she noted the greasy state of the stripper pole, she began her best attempt at dancing sensuously, though she couldn't quite keep the frown off her face.