Yale Allen stood up to take his medication.
The noise from the makeshift resting room didn't concern him; wherever there were actresses, there was conflict, and he was used to it.
His spacious nanny van was parked nearby, and he pulled open the door and climbed in.
Assistant Raphael Ward was in the van, and only Raphael was there.
"Where are they?"
Raphael was momentarily confused, "Who?"
The backrest of the chair was reclined quite low, and Yale Allen half-leaned back, his eyelids lazily lifting. His eyes always hid a deep and somber shade of ink, his face was ridden with illness as well as malice. He was in a state of decline, but it wasn't the harmless sort; it was the kind that didn't want to live but was willing to drag others down with him.
Raphael was sometimes afraid of Yale Allen, feeling he resembled the twisted psychopaths from the mature anime he had watched.
Raphael's mind quickly responded, "Selena Flores?"
