OKAY. Good times. The rehearsal was CONTINUING and there was nothing ELSE dramatic happening besides the ACTUAL. BLOODY. DRAMATICS. Paul was glad. He then saw Sam. SAM TYLER. What in the world was she doing here? And what did she HAVE? Paul eyed her a bit. "Sam...are you okay?" he asked, standing, once again, to approach her. "What do you need? What's that?" he asked about her...thing she was carrying, whatever it was. "What have you got there?" he asked as he took it from her hand, partially blowing the tissue away to get a better look. A necklace? He picked it up and hung it front of her face. "Um. What is...th--"

........Why was Abraham Botros screaming? Why was-- W-

What....

The older man was suddenly dead weight. Falling, as if he had passed out, to the ground, but his eyes were wide open as he twitched. His limbs looked like jelly, strewn about in an unnatural way. He was screaming, but no sound escaped his mouth. There was nothing else in his mind. The play...this rehearsal...he was...merely a vessel.

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