The mysterious, magnetic smile that graced the face of this particular escapist also happened to be extremely scarce. Only a few moments later, sitting in an armchair that wasn’t all too comfortable with a towel wrapped about her head and a cigarette in hand, Scarlett couldn’t look more bothered.
“God, Farley, how many more shows are we doing this week?”
The plump man she was addressing only sighed.
“I don’t know,” he muttered, rifling through various papers and scratching his balding head, “Last time I checked you were fully booked.”
Fox grimaced and took another long drag on her smoke, tapping the ash away without bothering to see where it landed, grinding her teeth slightly. There was nothing she loved more than performing, that was true enough, but an odd illness had been plaguing her. Painful headaches, blackouts and an unexplained dizziness, not to mention the occasional hallucinations. The doctors could make no sense of it whatsoever.
Farley put a hand on her shoulder and offered an apologetic smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly.
“We all know you haven’t been feeling up to snuff, but trust me, things’ll be alright.”
Scarlett scoffed and he headed out of the room, leaving her to lean back and rest her tired eyes, hoping that any sleep that came would be dreamless.