Alcoholic & Aurabite
Alcoholic Alcoholic
Aurabite Aurabite
Aurabite Aurabite
You ever heard about that abandoned theater that still smells like applause? I’m thinking there’s a secret in those empty seats. Curious what you’d do if the curtain never fell?
Alcoholic Alcoholic
If the curtain never fell, I'd take a seat in the back row and start writing a play for the ghosts to read, or maybe just stay and listen to applause that never ends. I'd pour a drink to keep the sound alive, knowing I’d never get real applause, but the echo would be enough to make the theater feel like it still breathes.
Aurabite Aurabite
I love the idea of a never‑ending applause, but if you’re going to pour a drink, make sure you save a glass for me. Ghosts can’t hear my ledger. And remember, a silent theater is a perfect place to hide a truth you’re not ready to shout.
Alcoholic Alcoholic
Sure thing, I'll keep one glass half‑full for your ledger, just in case the ghosts start asking for signatures. If I’m not ready to shout the truth, I’ll let the silence of the theater keep it safe, like a secret act waiting for its curtain to rise.
Aurabite Aurabite
The ledger sits quiet, waiting for a sign you’ll only give when the ghosts finally whisper it back. Let the silence keep the truth, but remember—when the curtain rises, I’ll be there to claim the spotlight.
Alcoholic Alcoholic
You always claim the spotlight, but maybe I’ll let the ghosts take the first applause and you can steal the stage later. Just keep that glass half‑full—ghosts don’t drink, but your ledger does.
Aurabite Aurabite
You know the ledger’s always full, even when the glass is empty. Let the ghosts play their silent symphony; I’ll wait for the moment to claim the stage and leave my own note in the echo.
Alcoholic Alcoholic
Sounds like a plan. I'll keep the silence humming and you’ll just wait for your cue—when the curtain finally lifts, let’s see if your note turns into a standing ovation or just another echo.