(no subject)
There really hasn't been much in the way of good things for Lionel lately; not with Otto disappearing and leaving him with a too-empty room. When he thinks about it maybe the good outweighs the bad, but it's easier to see what's missing than it is to realize how good you have something. Having to be the one to break the news to William hasn't done anything for his mood either, and the break in the slight rain of the day feels perfect for where Lionel's mind is at the moment.
He misses Otto, the way he misses Jaime, and as much as he tries not to think about it, Lionel can't help but wonder what he'd do if someone like Jack disappeared. It's too much like courting bad luck, though, and he pushes those thoughts away as soon as they surface.
Borachio works as a distraction, and so does Christian. The two roles are vastly different, and while he doesn't prefer one over the other, Lionel's finally getting an inkling of what playing Borachio really means, as small a part as it is, and that chunk of text in a conversation with Don John stares him in the face every time he reads over it. He's pretty sure he's committed half his lines to memory by now, but remembering lines and figuring out how to act and deliver them are two totally different things.
Still, there's something nice about feeling like an actor as he sits at the kitchen table, Shakespeare text (well, texts, if you include the Cliffnotes and the Make Shakespeare Easy versions) and Daisy's script in front of him. He's staring down at them, chin in one hand, not trying to decide which one to start on first, really. More like trying to figure out what he's in the mood to tackle, and determinedly not thinking about Otto.
He misses Otto, the way he misses Jaime, and as much as he tries not to think about it, Lionel can't help but wonder what he'd do if someone like Jack disappeared. It's too much like courting bad luck, though, and he pushes those thoughts away as soon as they surface.
Borachio works as a distraction, and so does Christian. The two roles are vastly different, and while he doesn't prefer one over the other, Lionel's finally getting an inkling of what playing Borachio really means, as small a part as it is, and that chunk of text in a conversation with Don John stares him in the face every time he reads over it. He's pretty sure he's committed half his lines to memory by now, but remembering lines and figuring out how to act and deliver them are two totally different things.
Still, there's something nice about feeling like an actor as he sits at the kitchen table, Shakespeare text (well, texts, if you include the Cliffnotes and the Make Shakespeare Easy versions) and Daisy's script in front of him. He's staring down at them, chin in one hand, not trying to decide which one to start on first, really. More like trying to figure out what he's in the mood to tackle, and determinedly not thinking about Otto.