Emcee finishes his drink in a few swallows. It's almost like having stage fright.

"Yes," he answers with a nod. "I need to see what's left."

There's a glowing exit sign above a passageway between the restrooms and the stage. Of course, in Emcee's time, the sign wasn't there. Nor was the 'staff only' notice that doesn't seem to be enforced at all.

Emcee takes Jay by the hand and leads him through. It's dim and narrow and a bit musty-- at least this hasn't changed. The passageway opens onto a hall lined with closed doors. Here, Emcee stops short.

"These are the dressing rooms," he murmurs. "Or, they were."

The doors are old, the brass knobs tarnished with age. Except one is now a storage room, another a supplies closet. The third, in fact, remains a dressing room for whatever acts pass through here.

On a whim, Emcee bends down and peeks through the keyhole. It's dark inside.

"Peeping toms come back here to watch the boys and girls undress," he chuckles.