You step back through the fen. You start to feel a little bad. But, like, they've got to reach friction at some point, it really wasn't very good. Yeah you're no authority but if it somehow would end up meeting no resistance that's even worse. Everybody else seemed to be watching fine. Maybe it's closer to the poular heart of theatre than you'd like to imagine. And maybe it's your expectation; you came out here to this scene, something from a dream, and you expected something cool and interesting, maybe not even that, maybe just something that would appeal to you. No, but that really was shit, and you know exactly who it's for and who it appeases. You know exactly which piece of 'biting satire,' with the pause for laughter, will work like gangbusters before the next guy with the different suit gets shuffled in. And no, they are not all the same, but the curve certainly isn't tending upwards. Still maybe you never really--

>Ah, fuck it, I'm getting out of here.