[Welcome, one and all, to the Kimono Dance Theater. It's truly a lovely establishment. There are cushions of the fluffiest sort lining the floor, and the scent of sandalwood permeates throughout the room. But, of course, there is the stage upon which the beautiful Kimono Girls dance.]
[The stage doesn't have curtains. It's a bit lower than France has grown used to--no orchestra pit, no secret passages for great machines--, but he's had a bit of time to adjust. Today, unfortunately, he isn't the star, but the light catches and caresses all the same. He moves slowly, deliberately, all the grace of his arts behind him, fulfilling his role as only the expert actor in him can.]
[Today, France is performing for the first time as a Kimono Girl.]
[It's the evening show, done in the twilight of the day and the first shadow of night. He's dressed in blue furisode with royal carts carried upon clouds and trailed by red flowers, a short train trailing after him as he moves. France is, privately, not entirely sure-footed in the wooden geta, but he does a good job of disguising his lingering mistrust for the wooden shoes as they perform the dance.]
[As the dance draws to a close, the Girls file off the stage, heads held high until they pass behind the sliding doors and into the darkness. For a few moments, the camera's view wobbles, like whoever was taping that is running low to the ground. The view goes through the door, and the sound of giggling can be heard. France comes into view, the wig from the performance removed and his usual sprawl of blond hair mussed from it. He's grinning widely, still wearing the make-up and clean-shaved for once. He looks utterly feminine--at least until he speaks.]Thérèse, you naughty girl, I was looking for that -
[The 'Gear's focus fuzzes briefly before the feed goes out.] 
cheerful
sad
artistic
cranky