A salamander-woman with yellow and brown skin peeking out from her smart velvet red uniform greeted them. "Good evening, folks." She eyed Kev suspiciously before looking at Cindy. "Just two tonight?"
Cindy looked down at Kev. Kev cleared his throat and said, "Four tickets, please."
The ticket woman gave Kev an odd smile and said, "Of course. Many seats have already been filled, but I can get you into orchestra or in the second circle." She looked down at a screen in front of her. "If you want, there's also seats in balcony if your group doesn't mind splitting up." The salamander-woman looked at Kev questioningly.
Kev didn't know what any of those options meant. He looked back at Fang and Talon, thinking about the uncomfortable car ride. "What seats have the most room?" he asked.
The salamander cackled. "The box seats, but they are usually reserved for members of the Arts Council."
Cindy said, "A box seat does not sound very comfortable."
Kev asked, "Why are they called box seats?"
The salamander-woman looked exasperated. "They are private balconies that overlook the stage."
Cindy said, "That sounds nice." She looked down at Kev. "Doesn't that sound nice?"
Kev nervously chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it does. I guess we will take one of those if there are any available."
The salamander rolled her eyes and looked at the screen. "There is one available." She looked at Kev with a piercing gaze, saying, "It costs four thousand seven hundred and eighty dollars."
Kev looked back at Fang. "Fang, uh, can you come here for a minute?"
Fang, who had been looking angrily at the line after the wolverine-man encounter, snapped his head to Kev and walked over. Fang growled, "Does someone need their eyes checked again?"
Kev said, "The tickets are a bit pricey. I just wanted to make sure you're willing to spend so much for better seats."
The salamander-woman said, "Nice suit."
Fang looked down at her and said, "How much?"
The salamander-woman said, "Forty-seven hundred eighty."
Fang pulled out the wad of bills he had in his pocket, pulled two bills off the top, and slapped them down on the counter, saying, "Keep the change."
The salamander-woman looked at the bills and then back up at Fang, her eyes wide. She quickly grabbed a small stack of tickets from a drawer that included a playbill. She pushed it towards them on the counter. She nervously said, "The box seats come with access to the 2nd floor lounge area. Please feel free to enjoy one free complimentary drink as a thank you from the theater for supporting the arts."
Fang walked away, growling, "I could use a drink."
Kev scooped up the small pile of papers and said, "Thank you." He put his arm out for Cindy, and they walked towards the entrance.
As Kev pushed the door open and led the way inside, he was met with the bustling view of the theater foyer. It was a grand, high-ceilinged space, its polished marble floors reflecting the dazzling light from several enormous crystal chandeliers. Velvet ropes in rich crimson guided patrons towards various destinations. Well-dressed beastmen and women mingled in elegant groups, their conversations a low, excited murmur punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of glasses from a long, ornate bar where attendants in smart uniforms were expertly mixing drinks. Another queue snaked towards a concession stand offering gourmet snacks and sweets, the air filled with the enticing aroma of roasted nuts and rich chocolate.
Near the main entrance, a booth sold merchandise: tee-shirts, posters, cups, and other items, all printed with a stark black and white silhouette of a furry figure holding a flag aloft in front of a crowd. The apparent name of the opera, 'Sanctuary', was printed in bold, block letters beneath the image.
"Everyone looks so clean," Cindy said, her voice a soft murmur of approval as she took in the refined scene.
Kev looked up towards the wide, sweeping staircase that led to the second floor. It appeared less crowded, a haven from the energetic throng below. "Stairs are over there," he noted, already starting to move.
As they approached the grand staircase, a grey fox man in a crisp white shirt and black bow tie stepped politely into their path. "Tickets, please," he said, his voice smooth and professional. His gaze flicked briefly over their group, clearly expecting the imposing wolfman to present the tickets.
He looked surprised when Kev, not Fang, held out the small stack. The fox usher took them, his eyes widening slightly as he scanned just one ticket. His demeanor instantly became even more deferential. "Oh, welcome!" he exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across his foxy features. "Thank you for your support. Please, right this way." He gestured elegantly for them to ascend the stairs.
The second floor was less busy, but there were still many eager people milling about. It was a long, elegant aisle, with impressive marble columns supporting the high ceiling and ornate railings offering a dizzying view of the foyer below. Several open, arched doorways invited guests into different sections of the upper seating areas, each hinting at the luxurious experience within. At the far end of this bustling lane, a section was roped off with a thick velvet cord, creating an exclusive enclave furnished with plush armchairs in deep jewel tones and low, polished mahogany tables.
Adjacent to this roped-off area, a smaller, more intimate bar gleamed under soft, recessed lighting. Its shelves were stocked with premium liquors and sparkling glassware. Attendants, their movements smooth and discreet, served artisanal popcorn in delicate paper cones, alongside small plates of gourmet snacks and miniature pastries. A handful of perhaps excessively dressed beastmen were partaking in drinks and quiet conversation in this more secluded bar area, their voices a low, cultured murmur.
A grey cat woman with puffy, wild fur that seemed to defy gravity stood guard by the velvet rope leading into the exclusive lounge. She eyed Kev with a disdainful air as they approached. "This area is for patrons of the arts," she said, her voice a clipped, slightly nasal meow.
Kev, still holding Cindy's arm, fumbled with the large stack of papers in his other hand. "When we got the tickets," he explained, "the nice lady out front told us there was a complimentary drink."
The cat woman snatched the stack of papers from Kev's fumbling grasp with a flick of her wrist. She expertly extracted the tickets from the middle of the playbills and advertisements. She eyed Kev again, her nose twitching, before unhooking the velvet rope. Her expression softened as she looked at Cindy. "Have a good evening," she said, her voice now a more polite purr.
Cindy smiled warmly. "Thank you, miss."
The cat woman moved to close the rope, but her eyes widened as Fang and Talon approached. When she noticed Fang – his vibrant purple suit was indeed hard to miss – she pulled the rope back with a sudden, almost panicked swiftness. She clearly assumed this formidable wolf knew exactly where he wanted to go, and that getting into an altercation with someone like him was far, far above her pay grade.
Kev chose a seat overlooking the entrance, a plush armchair positioned perfectly to observe the swirling mass of theatre-goers below. The crowd had swelled significantly since they first arrived; the foyer was now packed with people, their excited chatter and anticipation a palpable energy in the air, all eager for the night's show to begin.
Fang settled into an armchair beside Kev, his purple suit a bold statement against the muted tones of the lounge. He growled, a low rumble in his chest, and gestured impatiently towards the bar. "Talon, get us drinks."
Talon, who had been standing watchfully by the entrance to the lounge, hesitated for a moment. His sharp gaze flicked towards Cindy, a silent question in his eyes. "Madam Cindy," he asked, his voice a respectful rasp, "what sort of drink might you like?"
Cindy smiled graciously. "Surprise me, dear," she said, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.
Talon seemed a little nervous at the open-ended request but nodded curtly and made his way towards the bar, his movements precise even amidst his slight apprehension.
Cindy turned back to Kev, her face alight with happiness. "I've been thinking about this for so long," she said, her voice a soft, excited whisper. "I'm so happy 'Sanctuary' was showing on my day off."
"What's the opera about?" Kev asked, genuinely curious.
Cindy was about to reply when Talon returned, a slightly harried look on his face. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his gaze briefly meeting Kev's before he took the stack of papers from the human's hand. With quick, efficient movements, Talon separated the four tickets from the rest of the promotional material and then, with a nod, walked back towards the bar, presumably to hand over the tickets for their complimentary drinks.
Cindy glanced after Talon for a moment before turning back to Kev, her enthusiasm undiminished. "It's historical," she began, her voice taking on a more serious, storyteller's tone. "About a time when the most powerful did not act justly, and their people starved."
Kev's eyebrows rose. "That sounds very, uh, powerful," he said, trying to imagine the drama unfolding on stage. "How long ago did this happen?"
"Oh, this was a long time ago," Cindy replied, her gaze distant. "Hundreds and hundreds of years."
Kev was about to ask another question when Talon returned, his expression carefully neutral. "I'm sorry," he announced, his voice a low rasp, "but they don't have hard alcohol at this venue. They do have craft beer, wine, ciders, and meads."
"What kind of beer?" Fang grunted, his disappointment evident.
"What type of wine?" Cindy inquired, her tone still pleasant.
"Oh, I've never tried mead before," Kev remarked, his interest piqued.
Talon looked around briefly, then said, "I'll be back." He strode back towards the bar with purpose.
Kev turned back to Cindy. "So, hundreds of years ago," he said, "that's a long time. Did it happen locally, or something on one of the other continents?"
Fang growled, "Like this crowd would watch anything about a bird or a reptile."
Cindy smiled gently. "It happened in another city, to the south," she explained.
"Oh," Kev said. "What city? Can you tell me about it?"
Before Cindy could answer, Talon returned again, this time holding a thin, white menu. He passed it to Cindy. "There are a few choices," he stated.
It took several minutes for them to each come to a decision, even with Kev picking the first choice on the list for mead. As Talon took back the menu, something caught Kev's eye. "Can you get me some popcorn too?" he asked. Talon nodded before departing.
Fang growled, "They are entertaining and they don't even have spirits. What kind of establishment is this?"
Cindy said, "The classy kind. They trust that these people are here for a show, not a drink."
Fang grumbled, "Beers and vans."
Kev said, "Well, how about that city? You know, I got a book from Horns when I first started two weeks ago about the city, but I've been finding it hard to..." Kev's words died off as he noticed Talon standing above the group again.
Talon said, "Popcorn is not free. It's, ugh, twenty-two dollars."
Fang growled and pulled his money wad out, pulling another bill off the top and handing it to Talon. Fang said, "Just get whatever. They can keep the change."
Talon nodded and said, "Right away."
Fang leaned back, a faint smirk on his lips. "Oh yes, the books," he said, his gaze shifting to Kev. "Kev here is quite the little scholar, I've heard."
Kev raised an eyebrow. "From who?"
Cindy smiled warmly. "I think it's wonderful that you show some initiative in learning about where you work."
Kev shifted slightly in his seat. "Well, I guess the trouble is that I don't have much context."
"What do you mean, dear?" Cindy asked, her head tilting with curiosity.
Kev looked between Cindy and Fang, wondering if Fang had told her the truth about his arrival at the club. He opened his mouth to speak, but just then, Talon arrived, his arms laden with drinks and a large, fragrant container of popcorn.
Talon distributed the drinks with practiced efficiency. Fang took a sip of his craft beer and scowled, his nose wrinkling.
Talon, noticing, asked, "Would you like a different one, Mr. Fang?"
Fang grumbled, "Don't they have a beer that tastes like whiskey?"
Kev, munching on a piece of popcorn, said, "There were so many choices. Hard to imagine anyone could really ever know which one is best."
Suddenly, the lights in the lounge flickered on and off a few times. Fang jumped in his seat, his head snapping up as he quickly looked around, his posture instantly becoming more alert.
Cindy's eyes widened slightly. "Oh no, is there an issue with the power?" she asked, a note of concern in her voice.
Talon, calm amidst their reactions, said, "No, that just means the show starts soon."
Cindy looked at Talon, her earlier excitement returning. Fang growled, "Good, let's get this over with," then grimaced as he took another sip of his craft beer.
Talon grabbed the playbill from Kev and flipped through it, his sharp eyes scanning the layout of the theatre. He looked around the second-floor lounge, his gaze landing on a small, unassuming door just outside of the VIP bar. "That should be our box," he announced, his voice a low rasp.
Cindy got up eagerly. "Let's go!" she exclaimed. "I don't want to miss a thing."
Kev stood, and he and Cindy walked towards the door for their private box. The fuzzy cat woman by the velvet rope looked up, her expression clearly surprised as Fang and Talon joined Cindy and the odd-looking hairless mammal heading into the exclusive seating area. She watched them disappear, her jaw slightly agape.
As they passed through the door, a short, carpeted staircase led them upwards. The air grew hushed, the distant murmur of the foyer replaced by a sense of quiet anticipation. Then, the theatre opened up before them, a breathtaking vista of velvet and gold.
The main auditorium was a symphony of classic theatre design. Rich, dark red velvet adorned the tiered seating, sweeping down towards the enormous stage. Intricate gold leaf cascaded down the walls and around the proscenium arch, glinting in the soft, pre-show lighting. A massive crystal chandelier hung suspended from the domed ceiling, its facets scattering rainbows across the expectant crowd below. The orchestra pit, currently empty, hinted at the live music to come. The air itself seemed to thrum with a hushed reverence, a collective holding of breath before the spectacle began.