"Yes, indeed," she says, nonplussed. "I would have thought you'd seen them."
Truth be told, you didn't see a lick of the festival; you spent the whole morning before your performance stretching, vocalizing, and stress-urinating.
"At any rate, if you do go to Duke Ruffino's, say hullo to our Mabletham," Luca says. She hesitates, then pecks you on the cheek.
"And do your old life proud," she whispers.
You stare after her as she leaves. The whole affair smacks of misinformation…or serendipity.
Could this be your fine fortune making its presence known at last?
Night is upon you, and with it what feels like a grand decision on how to proceed.