So as far as Geoffrey knew, his production of Twelfth Night was well under way. No, really -- despite it having been weeks since his
posters had been altered, he had somehow entirely failed to notice that the people who were signed up for the play were, in fact, signed up for a completely different one. This meant he was probably due for something
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So he had hurriedly found a suitable monologue in a book of plays he had run across once in the Library and spent most of yesterday memorizing it. It was almost as if the playwright had taken one of his rants and simply made it more dramatic. Of course, he was starting to feel like there was a risk that he would launch into it if Serra showed up. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!
Walking into the Great Hall, he looked around until he saw the sign and ambled over. "This is where the auditions are taking place, right?"
((OOC: So how are the monologues going to work? I've linked to a site with the one Erk's chosen.))
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Ah, the first arrival! Geoffrey fished his hand out of his many-holed sleeves and held it up to Erk in greeting, flashing a smile. "Yeah, hi. Come on in." He waved him over and halfway stood up, holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Geoffrey Tennant. This is Bun-Bun." He nodded to his lapine stage manager who I'm pretending showed up already.
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He launched into the monologue - he had naturally found one he could really get behind, and as such put a lot of feeling behind it. Somehow, it still had a slightly wooden air - like a lesson that's been memorized without really absorbing the meaning.
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