Silence. Silence and discomfort. That was what filled the air of Mrs McCauley's office in the late afternoon of the first day of October. The Count was looking into Alex's eyes in that way again that was so creepy, yet appealing, but the first one weighing out the other, and she fumbled with some papers on her desk. She cleared her throat to break the quiet integument covering the atmosphere.
"So, Mr Count," she began to utter, and her company seemed to have woken up from some kind of trance. "what do you think about putting up a play?"
Mr Count frowned at the suggestion; he had never liked those people who pretended to be something they weren't. They reminded him too much of that his son didn't want to be what he was, didn't want to be like his father. It hurt, it did, even to the Prince of Darkness. But of course he always said that the reason was that he thought that they were silly standing on a stage, repeating what someone had told them, or else they would maybe not think he was evil enough to fit his title.
"It's an idea to consider with carefulness, Mrs McCauley, as times are difficult." he said; putting up a play while having the ferals attending at the school would certainly make a mess.
Alex let go of the papers she was holding in her hands and crossed her arms.
"You're not considering this, not at all. I know you Mr Count; you're just trying to get out of the responsibility."
Count Dracula wanted to tell her that she was absolutely wrong for an instance, but reconsidered as she then, as investigating as she is to her manner, would ask why. He surely wanted to avoid that difficult situation where he would have to explain himself, so he just agreed.
"You're right." he said and put his chin in his hands. "What would you suggest if we were to, let's say, put up a play?"
Mrs McCauley reached for her papers again.
"Well, I've come up with some suggestions." she said and looked down at her - even though she was a principal - frivolous handwriting. "Romeo and Juliet -"
"- out of question -"
"- Hamlet -"
"- never in my existence -"
"- or The hunting of the Snark."
"That's a poem, miss." Mr Count corrected and Mrs McCauley took a rubber and erazed it.
"Of course, how stupid of me."
For a while the two of them sat there; the principal looking like she was waiting for something, the owner alike.
"Aren't you going to pick one?" Mrs McCauley finally asked.
"That's all?" Mr Count said with a surprised expression; he'd expected more than two to chose from.
"Well, Dracula is suggested here, not by me though, and it would maybe be too hard to -"
"Perfect, Dracula it is!"
Then Mr Count rose from his seat, pulling the chair backwards in the movement, and then were about to walk out the door, but he stopped in the doorway.
"And be sure to give Vladimir the lead role." he said, satisfied; enthusiastic.
"But Mr Count -" Alex began, but the Count had already closed the door before she could continue.
If Vladimir wasn't worthy of the role, what would she do then? A discussion with the Count about why she didn't think his son had what it took would be something she'd be thankful if not necessary.
Later on in the evening