#* p02

never, ever did emilia fail to come bearing gifts. today was absolutely no exception for the englishwoman. always having been a theatre enthusiast, and grown up in admiration of her father’s own devout adoration for the theatre, there was no place she was happier than on stage or admiring others as they practised their craft. getting to see tom do so was nothing short of exhilarating, so, as she managed to wiggle herself backstage -- using her name for something for once in her life -- following betrayal’s closing curtain once most of the audience had left, she was carrying with her a small basket. a champagne that she’d purchased inside the theatre due to their strict regulations on outside alcohol, freshly picked orange rose flowers (the colours went with the book cover) and a copy of much ado about nothing from the shakespeare pocket series. a bit of research here and there had made it easy for emilia to pick out things that she figured tom would enjoy, and she knocked upon his dressing room door. “’ello, mate! ‘s me, emilia of the clarke sort. didn’t know if we were supposed to meet here or outside but i come bearing gifts and many regards for your performance.” @itstommyh