Half an hour later, Dorothy sat in the theater's reception room, flipping through a stack of scripts, and the more she read, the more her head ached.
"So, Audrey, are you sure you're in the art business?"
Eventually, she couldn't hold back any longer and asked her freshly groomed junior sister who sat nearby.
Next to her, Madeline couldn't help but snicker at those words, while Little Fox's face turned red with embarrassment. Her head was bowed so low it was almost buried in her chest.
On the table, her external voice device—the Fox Doll—was hopping mad.
"Sister, why are you laughing at me too?"
"Besides, art has its specialties, and I specialize in performance, in acting. Scriptwriting wasn't supposed to be my job; that's the work of a playwright."
Little Fox puffed her cheeks out like buns, trying to defend herself.
However, as she spoke, she deflated on her own.
