John stops automatically, head whipping around at the sound of his name. Female voice. Not Scott. Not Tricia, either, though he'd not put it past her to have made her way backstage.
His eyebrows raise when he sees the face just visible in the cracked-open door, and he moves to stand close to the cupboard. "Zeta. Baby, you're no dumb Dora, the hell are you doing still here?"