Ok- I thought the last bit was too short so here is the next part. Please review. Thanks!

Olivia N.

She had hoped that when she entered the Opera Populaire the crowding would have died down, but inside was a bustle of activity just like the congested streets of Paris. She had plunged herself into chaos, the glamorous entrance littered with numerous people rushing back and forth in a panicky sprint, shouting demands and requests across the room to others she assumed were working back stage. Apparently, they were all working diligently to finish last minute changes to the set and costumes for the upcoming play, seeing as most sprinting about were either carrying armfuls of fabrics or plywood. No one had noticed when she entered, standing dumbfounded as she watched the activity, her two suitcases slowly trying to slide out from under her arms- or so she had thought no one noticed.

"You!" An outstandingly tall man who had emerged just a short while ago from a backroom shouted, his deep, rich baritone voice causing her to jump in surprise and accidentally drop her suitcases to the marble floor. Panic flew over her face once the cases hit, the crash of the leather against the marble sending a earsplitting slap to reverberate across the entrance. Instantly she dropped to her knees, snatching the smaller of the two suitcases into her arms and clutching it firmly to her chest, ignoring the other entirely. Her rich brown eyes stared frightfully over the baggage in her arms at the bustling crowds, wide and dismayed like a deer in the headlights. Despite the sound, no one seemed to notice her behavior and so after a few tense seconds she relaxed and gathered her other suitcase, rising shakily to her feet. Almost immediately though she was startled once more as she noticed the man who had shouted at her was no longer across the room but standing firmly before her, a look of absolute irritation on his sculptured face. He stood several inches over her, a broad giant with intense green eyes and mahogany brown hair that gently brushed his outward chin. His clothes were loose fitting workers jeans and shirt, hanging well on his wide form that loomed maliciously over her.

"What are you doing here?" He questioned coldly, his firm arms crossing across his oddly thin chest, "Can't you see there is a job to be done here? We don't have time for you damned tourists to be poking your noses in our work. Come back when there isn't an Opera to be rehearsed."

The man began shooing her out then, taking advancing steps forward and cutting her off each time she tried to explain. He had almost had her fully out the door when another man came striding forward, this one a slight bit shorter and rather finally dressed.

The new man's voice was frantic as he called, "Vits! Vits! I must speak with you on a matter of great importance."

The tall man, this so called Vits, cursed under his breath before whirling about on his heel, responding with a tone of forced pleasantness, "Yes Patron, what is it?"

The patron came to a steady halt before them, giving a polite nod to her as a greeting and then answering Vits carefully, "My dear Vits, you are doing outstandingly well managing the set design- I applaud you for your skills and dedication to the job and I hate to ask more of you but..."

Vits raised a critical eyebrow, "But what?"

The patron gulped uncomfortably and quickly continued, "Our leading male just backed out for reasons of questionable sanity."

Vits glared and tapped his foot in irritation, "And what, exactly, would you like me to do about it?"

He grinned sheepishly as he tenderly responded, "Well- you are the understudy."

Vits growled, lifting his hand to his face and rubbing his temples clockwise with large fingers, "Great- all this, plus rehearsal- and the sets are not even finished yet. Wonderful, now I will truly never sleep."

The patron offered a small apology, "I apologize Vits- but believe me when I say I would not be asking this of you if it were not urgent."

"I know," Vits snarled, and then releasing a dark sigh said slowly, "Alright, I'll do it- but I get paid extra- just cause I work for you doesn't mean I'm going to do you favors without expecting reward."

"Splendid!" The patron beamed, releasing a sigh of relief, "Thank you Vitusia- I will see to it that you receive your pay after the play has commenced." Again he gave a nod to the both of them only this time stopped to stare questioningly at this unfamiliar woman. His voice was strongly curious as he questioned, "Who is this?"

Vits shrugged, "Just some tourist- she was just leaving."

The woman stared momentarily at Vits with a look of aggravation on her pretty face and then swiftly rushed to introduce herself to the patron. "Monsieur," She smiled, offering her hand for a firm handshake, "My name is Raylan Willoughby. I've traveled here from America in search of a respectable job opportunity, and was hoping that your great facility might have a few openings that I could apply for."

The patron looked shocked, "You want a job, this late in production? Oh my dear, that is quite impossible. Where would we place you? There is no place that is willing to start over and train a rookie."

Desperation flashed across Raylan's face and although she had clearly been rejected she scrambled to get him to reconsider, "Please monsieur, reconsider. I am trained well in areas of design, embroidery, culinary and performing arts. I was leading soprano in my church choir, taught several sowing classes in my home town, and have been taking cooking lessons since I was five. If this is not enough sir I ensure you that I am a quick learner and am willing to do whatever you wish for low pay."

The patron was silent for a moment, seeming to mull the thoughts over in his but once again he decided against it, "I am sorry Mademoiselle, there is just no time or space for you at the present time. Come back in a month or two and I guarantee you a position."

Raylan's mouth dropped, her voice caught in her throat as tear began to form around the brim of her eyes. This couldn't happen. She had promised him she would get this job, promised everything would work out this time. She had promised they could live in peace here, promised that this time they wouldn't have to fear.

Vits had caught the fleeting tear in this woman eyes, the sudden terror and disappointment. Messages were written all over her face- this woman for what ever reason was desperate. Desperation, Vits knew all to well what that emotion could do to a person. He released a groan, the type that suggested he would regret his actions later and then spoke hurriedly to the patron, "Patron, if memory serves me right I do believe that we are a few hands short in the costume department. La Carlotta's dress for Act Five has yet to be finished, and all the available seamstresses have their hands full. Perhaps there could be use for Mademoiselle Willoughby after all."

The patron opened his mouth as if meaning to protest but before he could speak the deafening sound of snapping wood sounded from the back, and several set builders began to shout furiously to one another. The patron flinched and began to growl viciously, "Oh god in heaven, does anything ever stay intact around here? How fantastic, another set to fix. Vits, could you deal with that, please?"

Vits nodded in agreement, but did not move. Instead he stood there, anchored by Raylan's side, silently making his demand.

The patron rolled his eyes but quickly gave in, "Fine, she's hired, but she's in your hands- I won't be spending my time helping her. I have a production to worry about. Vits, show her to costume room- and get that set fixed. And for god sakes don't forget to study your new part." And with that he turned on his heels and strutted out of the room, muttering colorful curses under his breath.

Vits turned quickly to Raylan then, giving her absolutely no time to thank him before he spoke swiftly and harshly, "You owe me one kid. You're a seamstress. Don't mess this up, and welcome to the Opera Populaire- now follow me, and don't drag behind. You slow me down, then you're on your own." With a click of his tongue he turned, striding towards the back stage with long, determined steps, Raylan shuffling clumsily at his heels.