@drxmxtispersonxe - Sander/Frank
It had been a long time since Frank had seen a stage show; between keeping the Winters twins in check, running his multitude of businesses, public appearances, and "charitable" endeavours, he simply hadn't found the time. He was notoriously a busy man
Tonight, however, he was all too happy to clear his schedule.
It was no secret amongst the pillars of Rapture society that a rift was starting to form between the city's founder and his favourite artist. Rumours were spreading, people were talking. The writing was on the wall. It was only a matter of time before one of the men would cut the string tying them together. Where most saw a crack in the foundation, Frank saw an opportunity.
If he could just worm his way in...
More evidence of their lovers tiff was apparent at the theatre. Frank's eyes scanned the room. No sign of Ryan. It must be real serious, he thought to himself with a wicked grin he didn't attempt to conceal. The founder's absence would make things easier for him, that he was certain of; hopefully, with his faux charm and seemingly endless praise, he'd have Cohen's undivided attention. Although, he imagined it wouldn't be quite that easy. Yet, he was sure that as long as he was patient, eventually he'd have the artist exactly where he wanted him.
The curtains closed to the sound of thunderous applause, the audience talking amongst themselves in awe and excitement as the lights turned on and the staff began to usher out the sea of people. An incredibly successful opening night by all accounts. Frank stubbed out his cigarette, staying seated as he waited for the patrons to leave first; he didn't want Ryan to catch wind of his visit to Cohen, at least not yet. Not until he was positive the scales of Sander's judgement tipped heavily in his favour.
Once the coast was clear, Frank rose from his seat and made his way out of the theatre towards the back stage, though he didn't dare enter. That would be too intrusive for his liking. Instead, he waited close by, lying in ambush in the corridor adjacent to the entrance, lighting another cigarette as he leaned back against the wall.
After a short while, the door opened, and he watched intently as Cohen's fellow artists filed out. No sign of his target. An impatient sigh escaped as he straightened himself out. The silence returned as the group turned the corner and headed out. Carefully considering his options, Frank shifted his weight as he stood mulling over his next move.
If Sander wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, Frank would be taking too high of a risk. First impressions were vital, one wrong step could ruin everything. Not to mention, from what he'd heard, Cohen was not the man to piss off.
But if he was in a good mood, riding the high of a performance well received, then Frank could, hopefully, begin to flatter his way into the artist's good graces. He was stuck between a rock and hard place, but he had to make a decision, and quickly. Before he could talk himself out of it, he approached the door.
Three knocks against the hard wood. "Mr Cohen," Frank called out, smiling to himself as the anticipation began building I'm his chest, "I ain't tryin' to be a bother, I'm sure you're exhausted from the show. I just wondered if maybe you had a little time to spare for a fan."
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