Franny and Abigail the Understudy were seated at his favorite restaurant, Mary’s Lamb. Mary herself, cloaked and masked, was lumbering about refilling coffee cups and asking how folks liked the food. Abby was slathering ginger jam on a scone, but persisting in talking with her hands as well as her voice so dollops of jam were falling like sugar bombs onto the white tablecloth.

“I just hope the producers don’t decide to recast. I think I’m safe. It’s a small part. But pivotal, absolutely pivotal. And one reviewer actually mentioned me.” She gave a brief frown. “I do hope it wasn’t because of all that flap at the circus.”

Franny reached across the table and laid a hand over hers. The movement pulled at the stitches in his side and he winced. Abby didn’t notice. He wasn’t surprised. She was a terribly self-involved little person, but utterly adorable.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that. I bet you were great. Let me know when you open. I’ll be there on opening night.” Except there won’t be a Broadway or a New York or a world by then unless Babel and Ray and Mollie and the others succeed. He pushed away the thought.

“I’ll get you a ticket, and I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I got your messages, but it’s just been so hectic.”

“That’s okay. I just got back into town yesterday. I was in Kazakhstan.”

No reaction. “I do rather think the second act needs work. All the energy drops out, and we have to work all that much harder in the third act to build it back.”

Franny tried to figure out how to penetrate the bubble in which she surrounded herself. He could tell her the first part of the story and seem like a big goddamn hero. Brilliant detective who broke the case, and then bucked authority to go and rescue the captured jokers. Make himself seem like a “movie cop” as Jamal would have put it.

Or he could focus on how he’d been wounded and play the sympathy card. But he didn’t want her pity, he wanted … well, what he wanted was to get laid and this might be his last chance before the world ended. But first he had to break her out of her bubble.

He pulled his focus back to what she was saying. “… essential the other actor actually listens to what you’re saying and not just sit there thinking about what they’re going to say next. It can’t always be about you, and this girl who’s playing my older sister keeps stealing the few scenes I do have—”

“Abby.” The urgency in his voice penetrated.

“Yes, what?”

“Have you caught any news?”

“I don’t watch the news. It’s all just wars and rumors of wars and there’s nothing I can do about any of it so why make myself stressed over things I can’t change?”