He rushes to the sink on his break, splashing water on his face. His thoughts are static. His eyes are static. Everything is damned static. The half-Arakanth's eyes meet the mirror, frustrated, and Yssc's ghostly false figure drifts behind him, frill flashing like a migraine.
"I'm working," Set mutters under his breath. It's not the first time he's had to address the demon at the Bluebell Theatre, and like always, he'd like it to be the last. "What do you want?"
Projections of one audience member flash in the mirror. Red streaks in her hair and bright scars on her face and arms glow much like the image of Yssc does. Set shakes his head, splashing water in his eyes again before righting and composing himself.
"Right. One of us. Got it," He whispers, reapplying makeup before his break is up. "It would be really nice if you could use your words."
The lizard-like demon grins, and flickers out of sight, turning the room dark as if a lightbulb went out.