"So, this is our bassist now?"

"It looks that way. Where's her head?"

"Attached to his damn body! Where do you think?"

"Hell, I don't know! You're getting pissed because I asked? Sorry for asking about her safety!"

"I didn't mean it... shit, okay, okay, I might have, just forget that, right? Point is she's fine."

"Fine?"

"Okay, fine-ish, look, what do you want from me?"

"I don't even know. So, what now?"

"We go on. Despite all of this."

"How the hell are we going to do that? She can't go out like that and neither can he! There are stitches around his neck! He's a woman below the neck, for crying out loud!"

"Do you have an actual idea? Because all I hear is you shitting on mine."

"Uh, here, let me think... what about this, she doesn't go out at all, we have her be a stagehand or something, there are five dancers and she's just one, four is good enough. Him, we need him for bass, so we strap down those tits and put him in baggy clothes. I'm sure he'd be fine getting out of that outfit anyway. At least that's something."

"You know, that could work for tonight. Okay, have her help him, we don't need anyone noticing he now has cleavage! God, when I thought I had seen everything in this damn business...."