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Fléin left the group and wandered down the central corridor, vaguely pursuing the operating theatre. Halfway down, he came across Sai, who was just standing around, it seemed.
"Hail," he said, walking up to her. "Are you for the operating theatre too?"
She nodded, licked her lips, and replied in a quiet voice, "I think there's been a mistake."
The Dwarf nodded. "I know. That doctor was the most incompetent shaman I've ever had the displeasure of-"
"That's not what I meant," she cut him off. She nodded her head towards a door on her left, indicating that Fléin should investigate himself. It had "Operating Theatre" written on it.
Fléin grasped the dorr handle, gave it a flick of the wrist, and nudged it open not more than a few degrees. Inside was total blackness - but it was the ears that were accosted, not the eyes.
"Romeo! Romeo Whyfore be-est thou Romeo? Renounce-thee your father and renounce thee thine name!"
He shut the door and winced at her. The terrible Jamesian English was simply too ugly to put into words. The pseudo-Italian accent was cringeworthy. But to the operating theatre they had been sent, and to the operating theatre they had to go.
Turning the handle once again, Fléin and Sai braved the poor performance.
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