Work Text:
"Cadence Blackburn?" came the confused voice. "Is there a Cadence Blackburn here?"
Cadence huffed with annoyance as she stood. "Yes, Uncle. I'm right here."
The man on the stage, Cadence's uncle, Oliver Blackburn frowned. "I'm sorry? I don’t believe I know you."
"I'm your niece. I cook your dinner on a Saturday. Never mind, just give me the sheet of paper."
"Give you the shee- of course. Here you go."
"Good job, little man. Now, go back to your announcements, and do try not to dribble all over the important people in the front row."
Oliver nodded with a faraway look in his eye.
Cadence hurried into the back room. She had a patron. A patron! How had someone even noticed her? Nobody ever remembered her long enough to say hello, let alone become her patron.
She knocked on the door to the room.
"Come in," Baz Charlton said. He was gazing out the window, avoiding Cadence's stare.
Cadence stopped dead. Of course it was too good to be true. Baz Charlton wanted to be he patron. That wasn’t a good thing.
"What do you want with me?"
"I would like the honour of being your patron of course. Take a seat, please," he gestured, still not looking at her.