Correy had woken unusually early that morning. He and Jon had moved back into the Zen building finally. Jon was strong enough to conquer the three flights of stairs to their apartment. But if the neighbors hadn't seen them go into the apartment, nobody would have known they were there. Quiet as ghosts, one might say.

Correy was concerned about the upcoming play, Twelfth Night. Jon was to be in the play and that worried Correy. He was concerned that Jon just might be biting off more than he could chew. And as Correy sat in bed and looked over Jon's sleeping form, he knew just who to talk to about it.

Thanks to the extended stay of Finn, the excitable Kangal Dog puppy, 'Taya was already up and about. She'd taken the puppy on a long run at the crack of dawn, just now getting back with a decidedly more docile dog at the end of the leash. Hopefully Max had bought fresh food yesterday, or Finn was going to be breakfasting on leftover chicken. Again. Snapping off a cheery wave to Mr. Cheung, purely to irritate the old duffer, she jogged up the stairs, tugging the dog after her with encouraging calls.

Correy had pulled on a pair of jeans and his black hoodie when he heard the scrabble of dog paws on the stairs outside. Deciding this was the moment; he left shoes behind and hurriedly went to the door and then out. His bare feet carried him down the flight of steps just in time to see Taya reaching her apartment door. "Good morning," he nearly groaned. No morning was good if you were up before noon, at least, not to Correy.

"Morning! No ... come back here, you daft dog!" This was, of course, directed at Finn, who had lunged excitedly at Correy with the apparent purpose of mowing the young man down. 'Taya's grip on the leash put paid to that idea, and after a moment of wrestling, the puppy gave in, flopping down onto his belly and sniffing at Correy's shoes instead. The theatre owner then lifted her smile back to Correy's face. "Sorry about that," she apologised. "How're things going?"

Correy laughed at the puppy's excited welcome and he went to one knee to scratch the pup's belly when he lay down. "Things are getting better." He gave one final rub to Finn's belly before standing up. "I kind of wanted to talk to you about that, if that's ok?"

If she was concerned by Correy's question, 'Taya showed no sign of it on her face. "Yeah, sure, that's fine," she smiled. "You wanna come in? Chances are you'll see a naked sleeping Yako," she added, almost by way of enticement, grinning in her most wicked way.

"Now who could resist an offer like that? Naked Yako..." he grinned and did his best imitation swoon. "May just steal that man from ya." Correy was teasing, of course. And if Max was naked and Correy just happened to take a peek, was there any harm in that? Correy shook his head to dash those thoughts from his mind. "Let's go."

Chuckling softly, 'Taya unlocked her apartment door and opened it up, slipping Finn off the leash as the dog bounded into the living area, curling himself up happily on one of the many rugs strewn about the floor. Kicking off her shoes, she moved over to the open kitchen, gesturing for Correy to follow her. "Want a drink or something?" she asked cheerfully, pouring biscuits into a bowl for the dog.

Correy stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Indeed, there was a sleeping Yako on the bed. Spread eagle, snoring and completely naked. Correy cleared his throat and turned towards the kitchen, clearing his throat. "Sure, orange juice?" He found a place to sit, deliberately keeping his back to Max. "I, uh, I'll cut to the chase, Mataya. I'm worried about Jon."

She straightened up after laying the bowl of biscuits onto the linoleum, tilting her head curiously as Correy spoke. A faint smile of understanding crossed her face as she nodded. "The Shakespeare, right?" she asked, lifting a carton of orange juice from the fridge and pouring a glass for him. "What's on your mind, Correy?"

He accepted the glass and took a gulp before putting the glass onto the counter beside him. "Don't get me wrong, he's getting stronger every day. He can walk up and down the stairs without his cane even. And the stutter is almost gone. But when he gets flustered, it comes back. And I'm afraid if he gets up on stage and forgets a line or doesn't hit a mark, he'll get flustered." He frowned a bit; it felt like he was tattling on Jon somehow.

She nodded, her smile deepening for the obvious concern in Correy's voice. Leaning forward onto the counter, she looked into the young lad's eyes solemnly. "Well, Correy, that's what we have rehearsal and prompts for," she assured him. "We'll iron out any kinks during the rehearsals this week, work around any problems he has with specific lines. And rest assured he's not going to be on his own on stage. As well as the other actors, who won't let him look a fool up there with them, we have two prompts following the script on either side of the stage. If he falters, the line will be there for him straightaway."