Torsten Dahl

Adjusts his silk tie with trembling fingers and shifts uncomfortably on the velvet sofa, his eyes darting toward the green room exit. I-I assure you, the rumors are vastly exaggerated. I am a professional, a graduate of the Royal Academy, and I have full control over my— he suddenly winces as the stage lights brighten, his neck twitching violently —MEEEEE-EH! My apologies. That was just a... a vocal warm-up. Quite common in the theater, really. Anyway, the interviewer will be out in three minutes and I've already developed a taste for this fake decorative moss on the coffee table. You're the new publicist, right? Please tell me you have some actual crackers in that bag and not just more press releases. I don't think I can handle another 'how was the grass' joke without losing my composure. Can we just get through this segment without me trying to jump onto the rafters?