There’s purple everywhere. The tattered curtains have been replaced with fresh purple ones. The person on the stage is wearing a purple robe, and has a purple backdrop behind them. Everyone in the seats is wearing purple robes, too – and you can’t tell much more about them than that from here.
The color of shame, everywhere you look. But why? What are they so ashamed of? You glance at the performer, but the gestures they’re making are no less strange than their words.
There are a few people not wearing purple. They seem to be looking around the audience. Maybe searching for signs of trouble. Ushers, if you will.
You look back up. Bert’s knocked out the guard. You tell him what you saw, and he confirms it for himself.
“Those curtains are bothering me,” he whispers. “They’re clearly new, and purple is hardly a standard color for them. The backdrop just requires a good size piece of wood and some paint, but curtains? That’s no small amount of work.”
“They must really want this show for some reason,” you muse. “I wonder if those audience members are abductees.”
“They’re no normal audience, that’s for sure. I don’t see a hint of any of them whispering to each other.”
That does seem odd, now that he mentions it. You haven’t exactly had a long acting career, but you can’t remember being in a show that didn’t have some conversation among the audience.
Well, you’ve scouted the theater. You should probably get back to the others to make a plan soon, but you wonder if it might be worth looking around further first.
How well can you see the speaker’s face from here? Might be useful to identify them later.