Open An Imprisoning Finale
Kel set it on the floor for him to gander. Though he kept the bow. Both could break under an untrained hand, sure, but there wasn't much else better to do around here until the storm let up. "A bit big f'r tha's size. There's wee ones for lads. I had one once."
Colette could take no more and rose from her seat and stormed towards backstage, knowing no one would dare stop her. She could shut this place down in an instant even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.
"Monsieur Morin? Monsieur Morin? Has anyone seen Morin?" She called out, feeling the frustration growing. She was trying to resemble calmness to some degree but it was unraveling. The woman did not care one small bit to stay there in a storm for who knows how long. It was the stuff nightmares were made of.
As her form was going to pass some of the circus workers, she paused recognizing someone who worked at her castle.
"You!" She made a beeline for Kel and Noah with intensity growing in every step. She did not know him much or the boy, but it certainly wouldn't stop her. "You work for me. I need you and your son to look for Monsieur Morin. He runs this place, or is supposed to." She lowered her brow looking around again quickly with annoyance. "If I find him cowering in his office.." She shook her head and sighed feeling a headache coming on.
Noah looked almost afraid to touch the fiddle since he wasn't exactly the most careful of children.  He knew it wasn't something he could replace, and he wasn't yet sure how kind Kellan was. 

"Oh tha' must make it lots easier t' learn," he remarked since the instrument did look much too large to fit under the chin of someone his size.  The waif appeared as if he were going to make another comment, but he suddenly quieted when a woman joined them. 

He hadn't planned on speaking to her, since he was certain folks as rich as the Marchioness would hate to speak with someone like himself.  However, her comment had the messy-haired lad suddenly blurting out, "Wha'?? 'E ain't our Da!"  Noah gave Kel a sideways look; he didn't seem old enough to have a child of eight.  At least, he didn't look it.  'N 'oo t' 'eck be tha'?  He questioned in his head, too wary of the fancy woman to voice that particular question out loud.
Kel about jumped out of his skin and shot up when he heard Lady Colette approaching. "Your Ladyship." He tried to flatten out his accent and bow his head while trying to cover Noah's mouth with his hand at the same time. "Of course. We will look for him." Then he tried to lead the boy away toward the back offices, forgetting all bout the fiddle and leaving it in a precarious position on the floor. Where was Morin!?
Colette stared at the boy as if he'd grown another head. Her brow lowered in deep contemplation before looking to Kel. Good, a man of reason was just what she needed.

"You must teach your son better, I can't understand a word he says." Of course she could get the most of it, but it certainly didn't hurt to better oneself and fixing that absurd accent was a good start. She shook her head as she started to continue the search but somewhat satisfied that she had another helping her.
When his mouth was covered and any other random comments muffled, Noah had half a mind to lick Kel's hand as an act of revenge.  Instead, he half scowled at Colette when she suggested he spoke funny.  The boy allowed himself to be led away, glad to be out of the sight of the woman. 

When they were far enough, he wriggled a bit out of Kel's grasp and blurted out,  "'Ow come she can't look for tha' Morin 'erself?"  Then again, he couldn't ever figure out why rich folk didn't seem able to even do simple tasks on their own.  "'N I talk fine."  He insisted.
[warning: childhood pregnancy weirdness mention]

"Er, yes, Ladyship." he replied to her advice, trying not to snort with laughter. Did he really look old enough to be a father? Did she think he had some girl pregnant in his childhood years? This both wounded his vanity and disturbed him ethically.

To Noah, quietly, "Ey, don't pay 'er no mind. I don't speak much better." He peered at Lady Colette from a safe distance. "I en't gonna do nothin' to find him. Just decided it en't my job." Take that, for such strange assumptions!
Anatole was indeed hiding in his office. He heard all the kerfuffle, and was staring out his window at the snow in awe. Having no idea he was even needed outside the room. He was also drinking a bit of brandy - to soothe his vocal chords, of course. He had performed an aria in the first act, after all. It was definitely not a tonic for his nerves. Surely not.
Colette continued on, unaware how her clueless assumptions were taken as she looked for Anatole. When she came upon the manager's office, she walked towards it and attempted to open it. When it didn't budge, her fist fell upon the wood. "Anatole? Anatole! I know you are in there, open up!"

She almost gave him no time to respond before her hand fell again and her voice rose in level and pitch. "Monsieur Morin! You shall open this door or I shall force it open myself!" Did she have a mean to open it?It was almost certain that the newly built door would be strong and she could not knock it down, but there were plenty of strong types around to help her if need be.

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