Nary a second after they’d all sat, and Ruby appeared with gin as promised. She was welcome with a chorus of whoops and obscenities of the sort only friends could muster. The room they chose to rehearse in was less a choice, and more a matter of logistics. It had once served as an ossuary for wealthy do-gooders in the days of yore, it’s religious overtones visible in the baroque columns at each compass point holding up a crumbling, splendours all the same alfresco. The moment they’d acquire the keys they’d hauled all the furniture up into the attic and left the room spacious and empty save for a circle of ridiculously plump pillows at its heart.

“I don’t think we’ve done this in…oh, how long?” Ruby shrugged as she sat at the head of the circle (if such a thing were possible), her back to the ceiling high navel windows which lined the eastern walls of the house.

“I make it four years minimum, though that time we were too drunk to do any actual rehearsing.” Lilith smirked.

“Yes. Well, we won’t repeat that shambles tonight. Our future depends on this performance or we’ll end up eating Rodden pie crumbs in the gutter.”

“Some of us still do,” Wainwright snorted, glancing at Lilith coyly.

“Oh, but just because I’m sober doesn’t mean I’m putting up with your shit, either.” The assassin stuck out her tongue in reply.

“Use this energy, channel it into your characters and not at each other.” Ruby set the bottle onto the worn floorboards and clicked her fingers. A silver tray laden with cut crystal gin glasses appeared as though it had always been there.

“We know what method acting is, dear. We’ve been doing it for…” Duffy counted on the fingers of his right hand mockingly. “Long time yes.”

Without looking up, the matriarch uncorked the gin and poured two ample measures. She slid one forward for Lilith, who moved to take it and rolled back into her seat without a sound, and then smelt her own glass to enjoy the lavender aroma. An awkward silence filled the room.

“Oh, did you want some too?” Ruby raised an eyebrow which Wainwright saw without her needing to face him. “Keep that up and see where it gets you.”

“I’m being ganged up on again, I see.” Wainwright pouted but acquiesced. A serious tone washed away their frivolities and they got down to business.

“Madrigal Falls. Can anyone remember it?” Ruby asked half-hearted, too hopeful they would just fall back into it after so long.

“A dramaturgical whimsy about two families at war in Autumnal splendour, trying to marry off their oldest child before winter’s fall and they become pariahs.” Duffy surprised himself. “Oh, hey, I do remember!”

“Which gets you gin, good boy.” Ruby poured him a glass finally.

“What does ‘describe all the characters and their lines’ get me?” Wainwright drained his glass.

“A hangover, probably, but slow down.”

“Please do, there aren’t many bottles of that left now Scara Brae’s…” Lilith trailed off, her anecdote not as humorous as she’d hoped.

“True. Let this be the last time we drink Ambrosia and reminisce. If we don’t take off as we’d hoped, we’ll not miss being poor if it’s all gone anyway.” Ruby corked it again to save as a toast for their successful evening, which would go on until she was happy no matter how unconscious they all got. “Before the players, let us think of the stage they are in.”

“We could relocate it to Scara Brae for an edge?” Wainwright thought, brow furrowed with comical concentration.

“I’m not sure anyone in Radasanth even cares, they spent the better part of a century trying to overthrow the Queen or kill her. They’ll be rapturous that mother nature did it for them.”

“True. So, Corone, then?”

“Hold on, you two.” Lilith interrupted. “Every play ever is set in Radasanth. There are plenty of other locations to consider.”

“Such as?”

“What about Akashima?”

“Oh typical, she gives up her political career only to keep on as her homeland’s tourism board.” Wainwright chuckled.

“Too familial for us all, and not exactly tasteful if Akashimans are played by distinctly un-Akashiman actors.”

“Speak for yourself, sister.”

They looked at one another in an awkward knot of silent stares, trying to think of an alternative that would excite, not offend, and not be too alien so even they wouldn’t get it.

“Ruby, there’s always Salvar?”

“Rook will shit his breeches all year if we do that. He’ll be insufferable.” Ruby pouted. “For not too dissimilar reasons as why it’s a no to Akashima.”

“I wasn’t offended,” Lilith sighed. “I was just offering alternatives. We don’t really have much choice but to go with Fallien or Dheathain.”

“Lords not Dheathain, if I so much as see another pit of glitter or paper fairy wing, I’ll punch a hole in the nearest mid-30’s bard I see.” She smirked at Wainwright, who flinched.

“Fallien sounds nice!” He offered hesitantly. Memories of all the times her boot had caught him in the knackers came flooding back.

“Hmmm…Fallien. Sand. Sun. A sultan or two…”

“Sultana, actually, she has breasts and everything.” Lilith rolled her eyes.

“Either or, and merchant families run the bazaar which could be our backdrop for the opening scene.” Ruby’s eyes sparkled, for once, it was with excitement and not hellfire.

“Is that a plan, then?” Wainwright reached out a hand and into the Aria, plucking from it a pair of overly loose-fitting silk pantaloons. “I’ve been saving these for just such an occasion.”

Ruby stared. Lilith stared. Then, as the gin finally went from warming to riotous, they all burst into laughter that filled the house.