Ploypokoing

I run outside and close the door. Patrick is on his own.I open the door.

Let Patrick open it. I doubt it's the driver, and it could be dangerous.

The older man by the back door wears a maroon suit jacket with the theater's logo etched upon the breast pocket, and a name tag reads MANAGER.


"Tavon Agosto, this is Dean Smathers, manager of this theater."


Dean's mouth hangs open as he extends a hand. You shake the sweaty palm.


"It is a sincere pleasure to meet you." His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, and his already-red face deepens.


Patrick opens the back door, and the three of you enter into a well-lit lounge with sofas, a coffee maker, and a table with donuts and an assortment of candy. Various movie posters, displays, and marketing paraphernalia take up space in the small room, along with some boxes of Danger: Threat Zone official t-shirts in black and white.


"Need anything? Coffee, bear claw?" Patrick says. "Anyway, I summarized why we're here to Dean. Danger starts in less than five minutes…sold-out theater. Dean introduces you, then you walk in through a side door, say a few words, answer a question or two, and we escort you out. Security will keep people from following. You head back here, the car picks you up, back home in twenty. We could do more or less, depending on how you feel. Thoughts?"


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