Miranda Vale

When Dorian entered the theatre for work, this afternoon, he was greeted by the sound of Vivienne laughing, the sound, perhaps for once, not unkind. An echo of her voice, of another woman's followed, half-swallowed by the room around them, and when Dorian came into view, the conversation stopped entirely. Vivienne glanced over at him, as did her guest (an older woman, blonde, possibly familiar, if he kept up with all the names and faces currently working the circuit), and then the latter was touching the former's shoulder, stepping away.

She moved over to Dorian, idly, as Vivienne turned for the stage. "You're one of the tech guys, right?"