"Satine?" I demanded a little more forcefully, shaking her slightly. She still didn't budge. Rather, she remained limp, tangled in my arms, head tilted back.

Scrambling, I turned on a heel to glance about the room over her shoulder, at a loss for what to do. "..I'll -- I'll put you in bed, that's what I'll do," I murmured, as if she could hear me. Hefting her slight weight up so that her legs didn't drag the floor, I awkwardly tried to pull her toward the bed, something that inevitably ended in her falling backward onto it and me landing on top of her with a grunt.

I was temporarily stunned at being so close to her and had occupied myself with fixing a concerned stare on her motionless features when my reverie was broken by the sound of the door opening. Only after I saw the figure entering did I realize how bad it might have looked to anyone who walked in to see me settled atop the unconscious woman in the way that I was, and I was attempting to untangle myself from her when the worst possible voice for me to have heard made itself audible.

"-- I forgot my hat," It was the nasal, high-pitched tone that could belong only to the Duke. I stiffened and tilted my head toward the door, making direct eye contact with him for the first time, something he instantly responded to with a frown. "...Foul play?"

Obviously, he was referring to my position over the still-motionless Satine. My jaw fell, my vocal cords pinching. For a fleeting few seconds, all I could do was gape at him, wide-eyed while I shook my head, pointing slightly at her. "..N-no, she --"

At that instant, Satine shifted, those beautiful blue eyes fluttering dizzily as she seemingly attempted to catch up on what had occurred. She gave me a slightly confused stare (again, most likely in response to the way we were lying) but (thankfully) chose to make nothing of it, instead diverting her attention to the outraged-looking Duke. "...Oh, Duke."

His features were rapidly contorting into an angered frown, and he maneuvered inside completely, allowing the door to fall closed. " 'It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside'?" He quoted, disgust dripping from his voice.

For all my creative ingenuity, I was still stumped on what to do about the situation. I felt like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar; one that was so surprised that he was caught, at that, that he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of the cookie as he stared in silence at his mother.

Fortunately, Satine wasn't quite as stunned as I was. "Beautifully spoken, Duke," She complimented, reaching upward to catch my face between her palms. She tilted my head with a surprising amount of gentleness (or that might have been because she was still struggling to catch her breath) toward the Duke, as if presenting me. "...Yes, let me introduce you to the writer."

"The writer?" The Duke all but exclaimed, turning a scrutinizing glare down on me.

"Yes, we were --" As if Satine only then realized the position we were in, she used her hold on my head to ease me off of her, something to which I promptly responded, scrambling to let her up and attempt to straighten my clothes to a certain degree (being that they were tousled from her advances on me during the poetry reading). "...we were rehearsing!" Satine concluded.

It sounded plausible enough to me. I offered the Duke a weak smile in reassurance.

Again, he seemed far from convinced. In fact, he burst out laughing with an obnoxious, strained trio of chortles. "You expect me to believe that scantily-clad, in the arms of another man, in the middle of the night, inside an elephant, you were rehearsing?"

"How's the rehearsal going?" A voice shouted from behind the three of us, causing us all to rotate as one. The voice belonged to Toulouse, the dwarfed Bohemian, and he was steadily making his way through the heart-shaped window and toward us. The other three Bohemians were hot on his heels. "Shall we take it from the top, eh, my queen?"

As relieved as I was, I couldn't help but stare at the parade of Bohemians as they rushed in. My first night in Montmartre and I already had enough material to write ten novels.

"I hope the piano's in tune!" Satie exclaimed as he brushed past us all and toward a beaten down piano that was situated against the far wall to the left of the main door. He slammed his hands down on the keys, something that brought up a foul chord in response.

"Can I offer you a drink?" It was the doctor's voice. During the time we'd been distracted with Satie, he'd maneuvered himself up alongside the Duke and was attempting to push a half-full bottle of Absinthe into the horrified man's hands.

Satine seemed to have attained her composure throughout it all (something of an accomplishment, considering I was still gawking as wide-eyed at the Bohemians as the Duke was) and spoke up. "W-when I spoke those words to you before, you filled me with such inspiration. Yes, I realized how much work we had to do before tomorrow, so I called everyone together for an emergency rehearsal!"

At first, it seemed as though the Duke was going to fall for it. He was apparently a little smarter than he seemed, however, being that he rolled back on his heels to fix us all with scrutinizing glances, a snide smirk curling his lips. "If you're rehearsing, where's Zidler?"

Satine was prompt to respond with an offhanded wave. "Oh, no, we didn't bother Harold..."

And as if cued by his name, the front door burst open, allowing for the hasty entrance of the previously mentioned Zidler who was practically stumbling over himself to apologize to the Duke. "My dear Duke, I'm most terribly sorry!"

"Harold!" Satine all but cried out to insure she had the large man's attention before the Duke could question him. She practically threw herself forward toward her employer, speaking as she did so. "You made it! It's quite all right," She went on to reassure. "The Duke knows all about the emergency rehearsal."

Obviously taking note of the emphasis she put on the last two words in her sentence, Harold leaned slightly toward Satine, giving a questioning glance about the crowded room. "...emergency rehearsal?"

"Mmhm," Satine purred, twisting on a heel to direct a wave of her hand toward the Duke. "To incorporate the Duke's...artistic ideas." The Duke seemed flattered, a bonus to Satine's act.

Harold was still confused, and that much was apparent by the way he was glancing between all of us, trying to find answers to the questions he was (thankfully) keeping silent. "...Yes, well, I'm sure Audrey will be --"

Cutting him off, Toulouse who had stationed himself beside me, chirped in rather suddenly. "Audrey's left!"

"Left?!" Harold gasped in something akin to horror.

"Harold, the cat's out of the bag!" Satine exclaimed, only furthering my respect for her. She certainly did know how to handle a crisis. "The Duke's already a big fan of our new writer's work," She provided a minute gesture of the hand in my direction, most likely to fill Harold in as she continued. "That's why he's so keen to invest..."

"Invest?" Harold echoed, gaze turning between Satine, the Duke, and me once before his features lit up in realization. "...Invest! Oh, yes, well, invest! You can hardly blame me for trying to hide our young..." His voice trailed off as he gestured toward me, searching for a name.

I opened my mouth to respond, attempting the subtle approach of mouthing it to him, only to be cut off by Toulouse. "Christian," he provided.

"-- Christian away." Zidler finished.

"...I'm way ahead of you, Zidler," The Duke finally chose to speak, the certainty in his voice making my heart sink.

Unphased, Zidler offered what I could only assume to be a fake smile to the Duke, reaching toward him as if to direct him out the door. "My dear Duke, why don't you and I go into my office and peruse the paperwork, mm?"

The Duke set that notion aside quickly with one question we all seemed to have been dreading. "What's the story?"

Zidler hesitated, obviously cornered. "Oh, yes, well... The story's about...Toulouse?" His gaze turned on the dwarfed Bohemian.

Toulouse was quick to recoil, almost bumping into me in his haste, eyes widening. "The story's about...the story's about...it's about, um..."

If I were to be the writer, I figured that I should at least play the role of one and create the story as I was supposed to. Shifting slightly on my heel, I considered prior to blurting out. "Love! It's about love!" Toulouse seemed relieved.

For the first time since his entrance into the room, the Duke turned toward me, those ugly, blonde brows quirking. "Love?"

I nodded slightly, scrambling mentally as I tried to piece together a story. "It's about love," I reiterated, my attention sweeping to Satine. "...overcoming all obstacles."

"And it's set in Switzerland!" Toulouse exclaimed energetically, jumping onto the bandwagon of my creation.

"Switzerland?!" The Duke seemed horrified at the ridiculous location and turned on Zidler, frowning.

"Exotic Switzerland!" Harold corrected hastily.

The Duke still didn't seem too thrilled with the idea and I glanced frantically about the room until I located a statue of an elephant. "India! India! It's set in India!"

All eyes riveted back to me at my shout, waiting for more. Hesitating, I took in a deep breath, still stumbling over storyline ideas, eventually deciding on the most obvious. Gently, my gaze settled on Satine, tracing her features in thought before I began to speak. "...and there's a courtesan; the most beautiful courtesan in all the world."

It took a great deal of effort on my part to look away, almost hypnotized by her features, but when I did so, I was struck with the fact that for the play to be any good, we'd need a villain. Fortunately, I had inspiration right in front of me.

Turning on the Duke, I continued. "...but her kingdom's invaded by an evil maharajah." The Duke seemed to buy it and was interested, so I went on. "Now, to save her kingdom, she has to seduce the maharajah but... on the night of the seduction, she mistakes a penniless w --" I had begun to motion to myself but thought better of it, stammering. A single glance sidelong brought a sitar into my line of sight and I lurched, plucking the stringed instrument up in emphasis. "...a penniless sitar player for the evil maharajah and falls in love with him."

Suddenly, I realized just how obvious this had to be becoming to the silent Satine and I performed a half-pivote toward her, shaking my head in emphasis, deciding it best to utilize the opportunity and explain my own motives as I explained the penniless sitar player's. "He..,he wasn't trying to trick her or anything. But...he was dressed up as a maharajah because --" I hesitated there, glancing downward to the sitar that still remained within my grip. "-- He's appearing in a play!"

My list of ideas were growing thin and it was with a particular amount of relief that at that precise instant, the Narcoleptic Argentinean interrupted me, reaching to jerk the sitar from my hands as he spoke. "And I will play the penniless, tango-dancing sitar player!" The Argentinean lowered a hand to strum a foul chord on the stringed for emphasis. "Who sings like an angel…but dances like the devil!"

The Duke seemed thoroughly caught up in the productions improvised storyline by this time and spoke up again in excited-curiousity. "...And -- and what happens next?"

Tightening my brow in consideration, a minute wave of my palm was given, indicating Satine and the Argentinean. "Well, the sitar-player and courtesan...they have to hide their love from the evil maharajah."

As if she was already playing the part, I noted Satine turning away from the Argentinean over-dramatically. The Duke seemed to only buy it more with the actors actually acting, but I couldn't help but flash her an amused smile.

My watching of her was interrupted rather suddenly, however, by the quickened voice of Satie, speaking over the excited group of Bohemians. "The sitar-player's sitar is magical! It can only speak the truth!"

"...And I will play the magical sitar!" Toulouse chimed in with that over-eager lisp of his, reaching to take the instrument from the Argentinean and tuck it length-wise in front of him as if he was the instrument itself, standing upright. A dwarfed hand was raised, and after plucking a single string, he turned on Satine and stated 'the truth.' "You are beautiful."

A moment later, Toulouse turned on Harold and again plucked a note ( though this time, a lower one ) and stated bluntly. "You are ugly." Then, he began to turn on the Duke.

I must admit I was slightly over-zealous to hear what the 'sitar' was going to tell the Duke and was unfortunately disappointed when everyone ( myself and the Duke excluded ) leaped to cover Toulouse mouth, the words "And you are…" fading against everyone's palm.

The Duke was unphased and merely scooted back on his heels from the group of Bohemians crowded around the dwarf. "And he gives the game away!"

Harold interrupted our encouraging nods to the Duke with a sudden order in my direction. "Tell him about the can-can!"

The can-can? My features must have expressed my confusion, and I stumbled mentally for a moment, attempting to fit a can-can into my otherwise dramatic play. "...Th-the...tantric can-can..."

Much to my relief, Zidler took over, leaning close toward the Duke as me, Satine, and the Bohemians clustered together, listening.

"It's an erotic, spectacular scene," Harold provided over-energetically. "...that captures the thrusting, violent, vibrant, wild Bohemian spirit that this whole production imbodies, Duke!"

The Duke jumped backward slightly at a wavering of Harold's rather-large arms, blinking blankly as if he was uncertain as to if he should be intimidated or not. After a beat, he inquired timidly. "...and what do you mean by that?"

Harold was prompt in responding again, raising his voice even more, if it was possible. "The show will be a magnificent, opulent, tremendous, stupendous, gargantuan bedazzlement..." I was beginning to wonder how many more adjectives he could string together without demolishing the sentence, and was slightly taken aback as he continued. "...a sensual ravishment. It will be... Spectacular, Spectacular! -- No words in the vernacular can describe this great event..." Leaning toward the Duke slightly, he raised his hands, as if painting the scene. "You'll be dumb with wonderment. Returns are fixed at ten percent; you must agree, that's excellent. And on top of your fee..."

Finally chiming in, the rest of us slid forward carefully, pulling into alignment beside Harold as he stepped backward, all of us simultaneously saying. "You'll be involved artistically."

How we kept together through lyric and tempo changes, I'll never know, but Zidler, myself, Satine, and the Bohemians sang and performed, creating an improvised commercial of sorts. It was only when the Duke interjected to question us as to what the ending was did we hesitate, the Bohemians retreating behind a make-shift curtain we'd created with one of Satine's fur blankets.

I had followed them until the Argentinean had forced me outside while they made costumes, leaving me to blankly stare at the Duke for a moment, clearing my throat. Then, I stepped aside, cueing the opening of the curtains.

"The courtesan and sitar-man," Only as I began to sing did I chance attention backward to see that the Argentinean and Satine ( both sporting their best make-shift Indian outfits ) were dramatically acting out my words. "...are pulled apart by an evil plan."

I was delighted to hear Satine's soft soprano take over there, adding her own artistic touch to the story. "But in the end, she hears his song..."

"...and their love is just too strong." I completed for her, giving her a meaningful look that she actually returned.

Unfortunately, I was left to consider that matter for a very short time, being that the Duke interrupted with his nasal voice, squeaking out what his idea of the courtesan and sitar-player's song would be. "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside..."

Perhaps it was the disgustingly nasal tone that left us all in temporary shock, but it took us a few moments of silent staring to gather our wits and finish our song with a flourishing pose, waiting in apprehensive silence as the Duke regarded us all.

Then, with a slight smile curving those rodentine features, he breathed the words we'd all been waiting on. "Well...generally, I like it."

--[ Out of Character ]--

Many apologies for disturbing your reading here, but I find I must include this portion.

So, it took me a long time to get going again. Judging by the fact that I've only received one review since April, I can only guess the 'fic wasn't missed, however, so that's all right. I'm going to finish it -- albeit at my own, lethargic pace and I'm going to do it for a sense of closure.

Why, you wonder, did I take so long to put out the next chapter?

I hit some major problems of the family sort, then someone very important to me suddenly disappeared after penning a nasty e-mail to me. I was rather devastated and, after loafing around for a while and avoiding signing on, got rid of my internet connection, deciding that I didn't want to cope with the pain of it and that I needed the pocket money.

Imagine my surprise when, idly scrolling through the fanfics between classes at the library, I located a 'fic recently updated by the aforementioned missing person.

The sister 'fic to this one -- just under a different author's name.

Now, I don't know what happened or why between that author and myself, but reading the completion of that 'fic stirred something in me along with the pain. I wanted to finish my own. So, here you have it.

I won't be reading reviews most likely, so if you don't want to bother -- don't. Remember, I'm lacking the internet access. I posted this from a friend's computer after typing it out.

If you truly want to get word out to me on how good ( or bad ) my 'fic is, drop a line to the following e-mail address:

ioliipopx@aol.com

She has agreed to pass on any pertinent reviews to me in person until I finish the work. After it's complete, I ask that any reviewers simply post it on fanfiction.net. Who knows…I might get my own internet again after college.

It's certainly been an…experience writing this 'fic and I appreciate what few reviews and fans I attained in its writing.

Sincerely and out, NotQuiteShakespeare a.k.a. Brad