The stay at the castle was beginning to become rather dull, as Columbia prattled on endlessly about who-knows-what, Riff Raff continually messed things up, and Magenta proceeded to be an utter, homesick bore. No Earthlings dropped by for the using, either. Frank decided to go out and catch an opera, little did he know that one event would change my whole view of the world; Earth or otherwise. He observed those around him. They certainly weren't the typical, clean-cut Earthlings he'd grown used to seeing. In fact, he believed some very well might fit in on Transsexual. It was nice to feel comfortable for a change. Maybe he'd go out more often.

"ZYDRATE AWARENESS! Here. Have a flyer." Frank looked down at the paper thrust into his hand. It depicted graphic images of how Zydrate was harvested. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the flyer aside. Shortly after, he found the line for the opera. As he waited, he continued to observe.

As Frank stood in line, he saw a promotional poster of the opera, which was a one-woman performance. The woman's beauty was obvious, enough to both desire and envy. He imagined the woman would also have a fantastic voice, but the reality was far beyond his imagination. He found, once the opera began, that the woman emanated grace and charisma, and just a hint of sadness. Frank was mesmerized, and soon knew how many others felt while gazing upon him so many times before.

He was actually a tad disappointed when the opera came to a close. Then he realized he could meet the incomparable work of art herself. While many still stood in standing ovation, Frank slipped out to the side door of the theatre.

_

Mag stood on the stage in the Opera House. The House was empty; Mag was rehearsing for the night's charity event. Constantly forced to jump through hoops, Mag's heart wasn't into it. But she still delivered her song flawlessly. She had long since finished rehearsing and sat backstage, looking into her vanity mirror. She adjusted the top to her strapless red gown and re-dusted her face with loose powder. The years had taken their toll on her and her face showed premature aging. She rose to take the stage. Surveying her audience, she sang. But the audience seemed faceless to her; nothing more than puppets in Rotti's hands. She sang a story of a bird, lost and afraid, unable to be helped. It matched her perfectly. Mag too, felt lost, alone and afraid.

After taking her encore bow, Mag slipped offstage. Her mechanical eyes were looking straight ahead, a blank look filling them. She passed through the paparazzi that had VIP passes to take pictures of her backstage. A few lucky fans had managed to secure said passes and called out to her. Plastering on a fake smile, Mag shook hands and signed autographs. She posed with a few fans and accepted a large bouquet of red roses. Rotti came from a side door and stood with her, hamming it up for the press. Mag smiled woodenly and pretended to be pleased with the attention; all she wanted was to escape. Throughout the whole ordeal, Mag was unaware of one particular person in the shadows.