Open A Plum Night
It was a bustling night at the theater, with street hawkers taking advantage of the show to sell food outside. There was a juggler outside as well, hoping to cash in on the revelry.

Gerònimo was still costumed up as a disarrayed Harvey Duff from The Shaughraun. He was chatting up a plum duff stand – he’d heard they’d stopped using mouse droppings in them after a windfall.

There had been an influx of newer faces, what with people traveling for the holidays. The vendor shooed him off, but he lingered – nonetheless, he peered out for any faces he didn’t recognize among the regulars.
Winter is Mary's favourite time of year. There is still plenty to do on the farm, but it remains the closest she gets to a break, particularly with Christmas fast approaching. Much of the day was spent chipping mangold for feed. Mary was diligent in her duties, kept her eye on her work and her mouth shut tight. Her mother's dream. She never imagined her middle daughter to be planning something.

Her first trip to the theater was really a peculiar thing. She didn't feel as fancy as she thought she would. Even bundled up in her warm wool cape, with a felt hat pulled down over her ears, the air outside the theater was biting her face. She also didn't recognize anyone. Now that she was there, she wasn't sure why she expected to. Most of the people she knows were back home at the farm, having a drink and laughing around the hearth.

Her stomach made a quiet noise. She didn't have the money to buy something to eat. It hadn't occurred to her that she might want to buy something apart from admission to the theater.
Gerónimo noticed a gaunt young woman in the crowd, and kept his gaze steady on her as the plum vendor passed a brown-dotted plum duff to a customer.

He cut eyes to the cart, and then back to the wool-clad farmer girl with a waggle of his brows. He said something to the vendor, who smiled but looked annoyed as she checked the last customer’s coins and waited for the serving dish back. The customer was dribbling all over it, but such was not unexpected.
To her horror, Mary realized that she wanted to go home. All the unfamiliar faces, the snow, and her empty stomach were just too much for her.

Off by a vendor selling pudding, though, a man made eye-contact. One of the actors. A great relief, thought Mary, to see a friendly face; and one so close to a foodsource, at that. She put on a smile and approached.

She folded her hands. She wasn't sure how one greets an actor, though. "Ey up, Mister Actor."
“Ey up,” he returned with a friendly smile. “You’ve got a face for it.”

At the right distance, anyone did.

“This your first show?”

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