InsaneJournal

Reuben wrung his hands together as he approached the building, glancing this way and that, as if terrified that any moment the archdeacon would appear, that or one of his parishioners would see him and know instinctively why he was there. It was dark, however, and without his cassock perhaps he was unrecognisable. The streets, however, were deserted, and he made it into the Theatre without being spotted.

Inside, however, it was a different matter. It was loud and busy, with little room to move. He managed, without stepping on too many toes, to find his way into a corner. It didn't take too long however for the crowd to be whittled down, clearly the young men were working double shifts. He shifted uncomfortably, with fewer people in the room, there seemed to be more eyes to turn towards him, more eyes to judge him. He shifted again, turning away from those waiting men he felt sure must recognise him at some point and denounce him. He swallowed, glancing to the door, although there was something in him that prevented him from leaving.