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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[nicknamegirl]

((Breaking my hiatus to make sure Lola comes to the audition. Because I don't want her to miss this. =) Tagging will be very sporadic, though.))

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."

[crazynotstoned]

The girl was nervous. Geoffrey was pretty oblivious at best, but he had also been in the theater for about a million years, and he knew nerves when he saw them. They seemed to disappear when she got up in front of him, but that was fairly common (if you weren't Geoffrey Tennant and didn't occasionally burst into tears in front of audiences, at least).

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?"

[nicknamegirl]

She nodded. "Yes, I am. Sorry if I come off as a little tense. I don't usually act. I'm a singer." Stop babbling.

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."

[crazynotstoned]

"Don't worry about it." For someone who really didn't care much about other people or their feelings, Geoffrey could be very kind at times. Partly, he sympathized; but a lot of it was just that he was a really good actor. One of the best to come out of Canada, it had been said, before his breakdown. His voice was soft, now, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled at her. "That's all right. Don't worry about it. We won't bite."

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."

[schizowarrior]

Molly was all up ons the idea of auditioning. It had been years since she'd done anything more than roles at the local Pine Cove theater, but she'd spent quite a bit of time reciting her monologue while jogging and practicing her swordwork.

She waved at Geoffrey and grinned. "Hey. Am I in the right place for the auditions?"

[crazynotstoned]

Oh, good. Someone he knew who wasn't currently interested in making his life a living hell. He grinned in relief and waved back. "Hi, Molly. You're in the right place."

He hesitated, then waved her over to him, leaning close. "Out of curiousity, uh... what are you actually here to audition for? Just... for the record." So the last twelve had all been here for the Dream. A man could hope, couldn't he?

[schizowarrior]

Molly grinned. "Oh, good," she said. "Um, it's for A Midsummer Night's Dream, right?" That was what the poster had said, although admittedly it had been scribbled all over. "Anyway, I've got a monologue." Her grin turned back to a smile, the leftover movie-star smile that was one of the few things she'd kept from her former career.

[crazynotstoned]

Yeah. Okay. Geoffrey shrugged expansively. "It looks that way." Well, there went a good two weeks of work completely down the drain. Excellent! How thrilling. He plastered on a smile -- an actor smile, just like hers -- and sat down. "Go ahead, then."

[chimchimcherroo]

Bert danced into the auditorium, dressed in his full one-man-band gear (he'd never been to an audition for a play and he figured it was best to be prepared for anything). He came in singing loudly:

"Chimchimeney, chimchimeny, chim chim cherree!
It's time for auditions with Mr. Geoffrey!
Though there's some what say Shakespeare is too dull and long,
I'm sure I can 'elp out with a wee bit of song!
In the theatre at 'Ogwarts!
We'll all get along!"

[ka_click]

Bun-bun leans over to Geoff with a grin. "If you don't want him for acting, I'll take him for stage crew." Cause, damn, does Bert have some good stuff.

[crazynotstoned]

By the end of the little song, Geoffrey's head was buried in his hands. He'd seen a lot of horrible things today, but this... might have been at the top of his list. He hated musical theater beyond all reason, beyond all passion -- he hated musical theater about as much as he loved Ellen, and that was saying a lot. "Just do something with him," he hissed to Bun-Bun, looking at the rabbit with wide eyes over his knuckles.

Somewhere, he had to have a razorblade. He turned away and fished deep into his pockets, smiling grimly as his fingers brushed metal. Pulling it out, he slid it into his mouth and rolled it over his tongue, expertly managing to somehow avoid cutting himself. The motion was oddly soothing; something in his shoulders seemed to settle, despite (or maybe because of) the imminent prospect of death such a thing suggested.

[ka_click]

"Right."

The rabbit nods to the chimney sweep. "Bert! Good job. Yer with me on set crew, workin back stage, keepin things runnin'. You down with that?"

[toomuchinthesun]

Hamlet, Prince of Demark and general emo kid, walked into the Great Hall and looked at Geoffrey. "I bid thee welcome, master. I have oft taken pleasure in players and it pleases me to think I should be one. Shall I speak a peech to you, trippingly on the tongue? I promise ne'er to saw the air too much with my hand, thus, but use all gently; for in the very torrent, tempest, and, as I may say, the whirlwind of passion, the player must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness

[crazynotstoned]

Some actors might not have known the youth for who he was, but Geoffrey had played Hamlet in the very depths of his soul -- he had lived Hamlet -- and he knew in a heartbeat that if the young man he had so suspected was not in fact the Prince of Denmark himself, he was a ridiculously good copycat. He went sheet-white, the razorblade he'd been chewing freezing on his lips.

He stared.

Finally, Geoffrey stood slowly, swallowing back the rising lump in his throat. He put his hands on the back of the chair in front of him to support himself, his eyes large and round and shining. "Before my God, I might not this believe without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes," he murmured, voice shaking. Suddenly, he twisted around to look for Oliv-- no, for Ellen.

[apologeticellen]

Ellen had been sitting behind Geoffrey, discreetly smoking a cigarette and wondering who she had to screw to get a cup of coffee and a cookie. But when the guy dressed as Hamlet had walked in - because surely it couldn't be the actual Hamlet - she'd perked up a little. This should be interesting. The idiot even was trying to speak in Shakespearean prose. Pretentious bastard.

But then she caught the look in Geoffrey's eyes and forced herself to actually focus. Wait. This was...

No.

"Geoffrey?" The word was a tremulous question and Ellen half rose, eyes flicking from 'Hamlet' to Geoffrey and back again. No. It couldn't be. This was another 'Geoffrey gone mad' moment. This guy was not actually Hamlet.

Was he?

[toomuchinthesun]

"Ah! Thou hast met Horatio," Hamlet replied, turning and scaning the hall with something like happiness. "Is he here? Rare is the man who is not passion's slave. I wear him in my heart of hearts and it grieves me to think Horatio hast appeared in this new prision but not yet made himself known to me."

[sbisawesome]

Strong Bad strutted onto the stage.

"Yeah, so, I mostly do action films. How many explosions are in A Midsummer's Eve? I do all my own stunt work. I have my own sunglasses so you can go easy on the costume budget. Let's do this thing. Ahem." He cleared his throat.

"This is a dramatic reprise of my starring role in 'Dangeresque 1: Dangeresque, Too?'."

Donning a large pair of orangey sunglasses that clashed oddly with the color of his red wrestling mask face, Strong Bad struck what he felt was an action pose.

"Oh, I had to swing by Cool Weapons Surplus for a new nunchuck gun. And a Reesy Cup milkshake. Let's get one thing straight, meatball...face...butt: I work alone. 'Cept when I work with Renaldo...which is all the time."

[crazynotstoned]

Wow. He'd thought no one could top Tomo Takino, but... there it was. Wow. His first instinct was to chase the young man right off the stage and out the door, but something gave him pause. As horrible as that had been, there was something... oddly charismatic about him. It made him think of Jack Crew, the movie star who had played Hamlet for him -- awkward and slow and really pretty bad at first, but with something shining through, something that had taken until opening night to discover and then wowed every audience who came through.

Geoffrey had his work cut out for him with this kid, but something in him wanted to take him on. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Could you try something a little more... dramatic?" His voice wasn't critical -- he sounded almost hopeful, really. "And would you mind taking off your-- accoutrements?" He gestured vaguely towards his own face and waved his hands.