Open RP: Auditions!

[crazynotstoned]

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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[blacks_thecolor]

Bernard hadn't really been meaning to try and audition for a play any time in the near future, but it had almost been irresistible when he'd seen the poster. Besides, he had nothing better to do today, and he had a bunch of monologues memorized. What else did one do when they ran a bookstore? Besides drink, read, drink, smoke, beat Manny around, read, and drink some more?

So, he stumbled up onto the stage, a glass of red wine in one hand, looking as if he'd actually showered in his clothes. Which, of course, he had. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, speaking around his cigarette. "What I bring to this theater today is a classic of the classics!"

Bernard coughed into his wine glass, took a sip, and began. The fact that he was reading literature outloud, and not speaking lines of a play, completely escaped him. Also, Middle English was totally appropriate for a Shakespeare play.

"Have do", quod she, "com of, and speed the faste,
Lest that oure neighebores thee espie"
This Absolon gan wype his mouth ful drie.
Derk was the nyght as pich or as the cole,
And at the wyndow out she putte hir hole;
And Absolon, hym fil no bet ne wers,
But with his mouth he kiste hir naked ers
Ful savourly, er he were war of this.
Abak he stirte and thoughte it was amys --
For wel he wiste a womman hath no berd.
He felte a thyng al rough and long yherd,
And seyde, "Fy! allas! what have I do?"
"Tehee!" quod she and clapte the wyndow to;
And Absolon gooth forth a sory pas.
"A berd! a berd!" quod hende Nicholas

Clearly, a passage about a man accidentally kissing a woman's nether regions when he'd thought he was kissing her mouth was the very pinnacle in the history of fine literature.

[crazynotstoned]

Geoffrey didn't speak or read Middle English, but the meaning of that little number came through pretty well. Oddly, though, he didn't appear too fazed by Bernard's monologue, nor by his mannerisms. The man was sloshed out of his mind, obviously, but half he actors he knew were at all times. Hell, Charles had only been able to perform while on heroin. A little wine wasn't much against that. Ellen smoked like a chimney. And a little dirt and sweat were pretty commonplace sights in the back rooms of a theater.

As for the piece, well. Geoffrey'd had his fair share of raunchy speeches. He'd asked Ellen if he could lay his head upon her lap and asked if she thought he spoke of country matters. This wasn't that much worse. He raised a brow, glanced back towards where Ellen sat, looked over at Bun-Bun, and shrugged. "And you are?" he asked the hopeful actor.

[blacks_thecolor]

Oh, Jesus. This is what Bernard had feared. The... talking afterwards.

"Er, Bernard. Black. I mean, Bernard Black, obviously." He paused, staring into his wine glass. "See, I find this is the problem with theater auditions," he announced, related to absolutely nothing, "You can get up on stage and say your piece, but after that, you're really just on your own, aren't you? What do you say?"

Bernard took a moment to ponder this, frowning heavily and scratching the back of his head. Then, he looked up, the sudden action making him sway slightly. "I know! Do you want a pineapple? ...No, that's stupid," he reprimanded himself. "What play is this going to be, exactly?"

[crazynotstoned]

Geoffrey wasn't much fond of it, either. He wasn't fond of anything that wasn't actually working with the text, with the play, sinking his teeth into the actual material. The rest was all just beauracracy, as far as he was concerned. In response to Bernard's question, he smirked slightly. "A necessary evil, I'm afraid." Geoff sympathized.

The second question (or rather, the third) made his smile a little more strained. "Well, apparently, we are doing A Midsummer Night's Dream," he explained wearily. And then, hopefully: "Why, did you hear something else?"

[apologeticellen]

Smirking widely, Ellen watched the audition, returning Geoffrey's look with a little eyebrow raise. That was...quite the selection. Studying the obviously drunken man carefully, she then leaned forward. "One turf shall serve as pillow for us both; One heart, one bed, two bosoms and one troth," Ellen quoted in a quiet voice, hiding a smile. What Bernard had spoken was no more scandalous than Shakespeare.

And she was fairly certain she'd just seen her Oberon. Unless Geoffrey caved and she got Helena. Ellen bet she could get him to cave. She would be an amazing Helena. Or Hermia. Either one.