Salar looks skeptical. "You don't even sound like you believe that," he says. "But I suppose everyone has off days. In any event, I've got to find some way to stay here longer and find out more."
"What about finding some proof of your claims?" you ask. "That's what we talked about on tour."
"I don't have proof," Salar says. "Only my word. Maybe here in the city, that doesn't mean much."
"There's no way of knowing them if we found them," Salar says with a scowl. "It would be like dropping a coin from the highest rooftop in the city and hoping to find it again."
"I just wish we knew more," you say.
Salar looks restless. "Look, I have to go," he says abruptly. "I have things I need to figure out on my own. But I'll be around. You can be sure of that."
When Salar leaves, you're once again alone with your pen and the blank page. On tour, you rarely had a moment to yourself. Now, you have enough of them that you can actually concentrate on your work.
You can't help wondering where you stand with Diar. You had a good time together on tour, but will that continue now that you're back in town?
There's little opportunity to find out right now. Diar is spending most of her spare time at home with Aislen after a summer apart.
And you should really be writing. You lower your pen again, reluctantly, to the page.
Next
Matty calls you to the Odeon several days later. She's grown less patient with your lack of a finished script. "I can't put 'I don't know, it's about a hero, I suppose' on the stage."
There's a clatter in the hallway outside, and Salar appears in the doorway. "I need to talk to you. It's urgent."
"Take your admirer and go," Matty says.
"I'm an actor," Salar says stiffly.
"Of course you are. Come round when we're auditioning then. You should know better than to try to get a part by propositioning the playwright. Wasted effort, that."
Next