*look, it's another bloody and extremely pretty young man -- this time, though, it's from what appears to be bulletholes. Curiously enough, there are no wounds, but he's definitely got the holes in his shirt*

..... *shakes his head* What is this place? I am Enjolras.

Typist: Enjolras, from Les Miserables. Yay, pretty. :D

*bounds in, a flurry of movement and excitement*

*cheerfully* Hi everyone! I'm Maureen Johnson!

So what is this, a boat? .... *looks around for something (a stage, if you want to know)*

Typist: Maureen from RENT. I'm sorry ahead of time.

*Enter JOANNE, in the process of putting away a cell phone, and looking more than slightly irritated.

She looks around, somewhere between confusion and exhasperation, and gives a sigh.*

Can anyone tell me where I am? --Better yet, can anyone tell me where Maureen is? You'll know if you've seen her. She's hard to miss. I need to talk to her.

He's a good-looking young French man, with a pleasant, earnest face. His clothes are tailored and he moves with a gentle grace that befits a dreamer, rather than a forceful man of action. There is a look of sharp intelligence in his eyes, greatly softened by his thoughtful expression.Bonjour *peers*, my name is Armand. I seem to have taken a wrong ( Read more... )

*Enter a petite girl with brown curls. Upon looking at her, the very first thing one will notice is that she is beautiful. One of those rare beauties that defy description. Not only is she beautiful, but an air of innocence and sweetness surrounds her. She walks out, her brow furrowed in confusion, and she speaks in a slightly frightened voice.*

Oh ( Read more... )