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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Lola was quite nervous. She'd found a monologue to read, which she was indeed very happy about, and was picking at her sheet of paper, trying to calm herself down. Okay. This was good. When her turn came, she put the paper away and stepped up in front of the people, trying her best to not shake. Inner peace, inner peace... She was an angel, for crying out loud. And she was good on a stage, even though she usually sang instead of acting. She could do this.
"Hello," she said politely and smiled, nervousness melting away and turning into a gentle serenity that softened her features. "I'm Lola. Um. Hi."
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He softened a little and stood to greet her, trying to be gentle. "Hi, Lola. I'm Geoffrey. You're here to audition, I take it? Do you have something to read?" And, because it was worth a shot: "And, um... what play are you actually here for?"
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Lola took a breath and smiled again. "Well, the play is A Midsummer Night's Dream, isn't it? My monologue is from Twelfth Night, but I just like it so much I couldn't help memorising it."
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He was glad he was being nice to her, though, because he actually liked her better than most of the other auditions if only for the reason that she actually liked his play. When she mentioned it, his eyes lit up. "Yes, well, the play appears to be A Midsummer Night's Dream," he said disdainfully. "But Twelfth Night is much better."
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"I like them both," she admitted. "I have kind of a soft spot for Shakespeare in general." She'd been looking out for him, once upon a time. Guardian angel type thing. It had been quite an adventure.
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"So." He thumped a hand against the seat back and nodded encouragingly towards her. "Why don't you go ahead? Let me hear your Twelfth Night -- it's the last time I'm going to get to hear it for a while." The last was said in a bitter sigh, but he rallied himself and smiled again as he leaned forward to rest his head on his folded arms.
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Lola liked Geoffrey as well. Granted, Lola liked most people, with the calm, steady affection of an angel that knew her place in the Universe, and she had decided the moment she saw him that Geoffrey would be one of the people that she did like. Whether or not he was aware of it himself, he was likeable in her eyes.
She shook out her hair and drew in another breath to steady herself. Okay, she could do this... She knew the words. She knew the play. It was just a matter of delivering it properly. Slowly, with a pleasant, melodic voice, Lola began to read Olivia's monologue from Act Three. Her eyes were gazing out at some far-away horizon, yet holding a certain amount of longing appropriate for the role.
O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful ( ... )
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