Quarshie stood frontstage, his eyes full of menace. They said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Quarshie was Mark Antony. Caesar’s body lay at his side. He’d just ordered the mob to avenge his mentor’s murder, the mob had shuffled off in compliance, but now some scruffy stray was back already, trying to act, trying to look like he gave a toss about Casear. A woman in the audience burst out laughing.
Soon the mob returned, swallowed their lost member back into the fold and Quarshie’s body language softened. The name of the woman in the audience was Angelina.