MUSIC: Questioning Mr. Raw
You ((Shreya)) practically jump out of your skin but manage not to scream. You and Zak both grip each other’s hand and slowly turn to see the nightmarish figure of Mr. Raw looming over you in the pathetic flickering light of Zak’s match.
Mr. Raw blows the candle out with a simple *puff!* of his enormous mouth and once again plunges the room into darkness, but only for an instant. You hear the snap of fingers, and then there is a red candle on the table, flickering away, and Mr. Raw is seated in his huge armchair.
You ((Shreya)) practically jump out of your skin but manage not to scream. You and Zak both grip each other’s hand and slowly turn to see the nightmarish figure of Mr. Raw looming over you in the pathetic flickering light of Zak’s match.
Mr. Raw blows the candle out with a simple *puff!* of his enormous mouth and once again plunges the room into darkness, but only for an instant. You hear the snap of fingers, and then there is a red candle on the table, flickering away, and Mr. Raw is seated in his huge armchair.
Mr. Raw: “Please, sit. No need to stand on formality, or your feet. I suspect you’ll be wanting them for running, later. For all the good it will do you.”
Your legs feel like jelly anyway and you sort of collapse onto one of the stools. Zak follows your example and you both sit, facing Mr. Raw.
