Open RP: Auditions!

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

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 of a surprise, today.

He'd cleared a large space in the Great Hall and tacked up a sign that said "Auditions here!" which he figured was enough decor. Pulling up three chairs -- one for himself, one for his stage manager, and one for Oliver... wait, make that two chairs -- he slouched down into his seat, rolled up his sleeves, and waited for the first arrival.

((This is primarily for people who are auditioning, but if you missed the signup and want to participate in the play, now's your chance!

Edit: So I figured we'd do one thread for each character, and they could read a little monologue and chat with Geoffrey and Bun-Bun if they liked. And please, feel free to mention A Midsummer Night's Dream. A lot. Geoffrey still has no idea that's what he's actually supposed to be working on.))

Comments

[mageofanima.livejournal.com]

Erk tended to monologue a lot, really, but he had figured that general spur-of-the-moment tirades weren't quite what was being looked for.

So he had hurriedly found a suitable monologue (http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_033.html) in a book of plays he had run across once in the Library and spent most of yesterday memorizing it. It was almost as if the playwright had taken one of his rants and simply made it more dramatic. Of course, he was starting to feel like there was a risk that he would launch into it if Serra showed up. O, she misused me past the endurance of a block!

Walking into the Great Hall, he looked around until he saw the sign and ambled over. "This is where the auditions are taking place, right?"

((OOC: So how are the monologues going to work? I've linked to a site with the one Erk's chosen.))

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

((Check the note above! He can read that (you don't actually have to type it out or whatever :P) and maybe, you know, let me know how he does ;) ))

Ah, the first arrival! Geoffrey fished his hand out of his many-holed sleeves and held it up to Erk in greeting, flashing a smile. "Yeah, hi. Come on in." He waved him over and halfway stood up, holding out a hand to shake. "I'm Geoffrey Tennant. This is Bun-Bun." He nodded to his lapine stage manager (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1391225.html?thread=70947705#t70947705) who I'm pretending showed up already.

[tomowildcat.livejournal.com]

As always, Tomo came charging in at breakneck speed, nearly knocking over several people and statues en route to the Great Hall. It sounded more like an approaching stampede instead of one short Japanese teenager, but that was normal for her.

"I'm HERE!" she announced, screeching to a stop right in front of the sign. "You can start now!"

She didn't know a thing about Shakespeare or monologues, so she'd managed to bully a house elf into fetching her something that would work from the library. The book the elf had brought back had "Desdemona" and "Juliet" in the title, so Tomo figured it was close enough and selected a suitable passage to read and act out (http://tomowildcat.livejournal.com/1684.html). Hey, it looked like Shakespeare, why not?

Never mind that Shakespeare was not likely to be using the word "bullshit" so many times, if at all...

((Link goes to a post in Tomo's journal - how are we doing this? If it's too long, I'll cut it down and relink. I can always post the bits that Tomo mangles or ad-libs. Expect lots of overacting and VOLUME.))

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

((LOL yes, definitely post her mangling things.))

Geoffrey was pretty used to actors, who as a whole tended to barrel around as though the rest of the world was entirely incidental, so he tried to take Tomo in stride. "We already started," he said slowly. "But you're okay."

"Hi." He lifted a hand, slouching back in his seat. "I'm Geoffrey. I'm guessing you'd be..." He looked over his list till he found the name with the note sparkles next to it. "...Tomo Takino?"

[ka-click.livejournal.com]

"Heya boss man." Cue a Bunny, hopping along towards Geoff, a smile on his little face,a gleam in his little eyes, and a bull whip in his little paws. "Not ta worry, I brought my own cast encouragement tools."

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey should probably have been more surprised to see a rabbit talking to him. Especially a rabbit with a whip. But he'd gotten kind of used to Hogwarts over the past few weeks, and anyway, his world had never been entirely sane. He just kind of stared for a moment, and then smiled weakly. "You're Bun-Bun?"

The whip, at least, was a promising sign. What Geoffrey really needed was someone who could deal with other people for him.

[apologeticellen.livejournal.com]

Ellen arrived only a few minutes late. Not too late, but late enough to be noticed. Rubbing out her cigarette on the floor, she then pulled up a third chair to the table, sitting next to Geoffrey. Because she was there to help. Auditions were for amateurs.

"So, I was thinking," she launched right in. "Olivia is a good part for someone new. I mean, there's a complexity there, but you're good at, you know, pulling that out of people. But Viola. Now that is a role that needs some depth, you know? Some maturity." With a big grin, she leaned in, resting her cheek on one hand. "Anyone can play Olivia. But Viola needs someone who can handle her, eh?"

Angling for parts, much?

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Oh, Geoffrey was so not getting into an argument, here and now, over a part that she was absolutely not getting (and, for that matter, knew she wasn't getting). He decided to ignore her actual words and focus on the fact that hey, Ellen was here. In prime form.

"Hello, dear," he said flatly. He leaned back in his seat to reveal Bun-Bun on his other side. "This is Bun-Bun, my stage manager. Bun-Bun, this is the illustrious Ellen Fanshaw. Ellen, darling, are you planning on reading today? Or should I have Bun-Bun go and get some cue cards for you?"

[researcher42.livejournal.com]

When he'd only been pretending to be an actor Ford had generally made appointments for audition and never gone. Or showed up late. Or drunk. Oddly enough, the times he'd shown up drunk he'd usually gotten the part, which was awkward.

If it had worked before it might work again. That was the logic behind his decision to drink a couple... (or was it four? five? six?) That was the logic behind his decision to drink a number of gin and tonics (light on the tonic) before going this audition.

"People of Earth," he announced as he entered the room, "take me to your director!"

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey couldn't blame Ford for getting drunk. He wished he'd done the same. "Right here," he called out mournfully, waving a hand high in the air. "You are?"

[doctorkilljoy.livejournal.com]

Killjoy hadn't performed with other people in well over a century, not since that one nurse and the debacle she'd caused onstage. Other people just ruined his vision. Still, he couldn't resist the opportunity to share his theatrical genius, even if it did mean letting someone else direct for once. Though he doubted that anyone was as brilliant a stage manager as he, it would be a relief to not have to wrangle his fellow actors. He could concentrate solely on the material.

He had chosen a scene from Hamlet (http://www.monologuearchive.com/s/shakespeare_002.html) for his audition. His projector, which was sitting behind and to the left of Tennant and...a rabbit (Killjoy repressed a groan and reminded himself that there were much crazier things lurking about the school), wound to life. He started speaking almost before his image showed up, but he probably didn't realize it. And though he would have said his monologue was perfect, he had a tendency to overact and was very bad at changing facial expressions. To his credit, it was difficult to see his face in certain lighting.

It was difficult to see him at all in certain lighting.

He gave a slight bow when he finished, smoothed his suit coat (in what he would never have admitted was a nervous gesture), and cleared his throat. "I trust you'll not give me such an ignoble role as Nick Bottom," he said, having chosen the Hamlet monologue over a more comedic one to avoid having to prance around with a donkey's head. "At best, the fitting would be difficult as I am made entirely of projected light." Okay, so he could be perfectly solid when he wanted. That was beside the point. "Lysander would be a much more appropriate role for my talents, at any rate. Or perhaps Peter Quince."

((Just a warning, I have no idea what I'm doing. This is my first RP play, so I'm just following everyone else's lead right now. Um, that projector probably wasn't there when Tennant walked in. Feel free to let him wave his hands around in the beam if it would be IC; I don't mind at all. Also, despite what Killjoy might have to say on the subject, I'm not actually trying to get out of playing Nick.))

[apologeticellen.livejournal.com]

Even though this was a freaking projection of light, Ellen could not agree more with his sentiments. Leaning forward from where she was sitting behind Geoffrey, Ellen made a sympathetic face. "You have to tell him the part you want," she told Killjoy. "Or else he'll give you shit."

The rest was mumbled, though in a stage whisper, so it was perfectly audible, "Like the freaking queen, just because you're not twenty anymore."

Oh, the bitterness of a diva.

[anythingawesome.livejournal.com]

Kelly had a monolouge. Oh, yes. From Romeo and Juliet - the Claire Danes one. Ohmigosh, Leo was such a hottie back then.

She walked in, fuzzy pink purse (http://www.toy-fairy.com/hep-catz/purses/puffbeadedpink.JPG) slung over her shoulder. The woman was accessorized to kill.

"Hi! I'm Kelly!" It came out in a very perky chirp.

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Oof. Geoffrey was not a fan of perky. He exchanged a look with Bun-Bun and sank back into his chair, biting his thumbnail. "Hello, Kelly," he called out to her as magnanimously as possible. "I'm Geoffrey and this is Bun-Bun. Do you have something to read today?"

[traitorormartyr.livejournal.com]

Archie came in quietly, reading his copy of MacBeth one more time before slamming it shut and setting it down, waiting his turn.

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey got up to greet Archie and barely stifled a groan when he saw the book in the young man's hands. "Oh, shit. You don't think we're doing that, do you?" If he had to do the Scottish play again, he was quite honestly just going to give up and hang himself. From the Astronomy Tower, for preference. It would be wonderfully dramatic.

[busty-robin.livejournal.com]

Steph came in, a dog eared copy of Midsummer Night's Dream peeking out of her back pocket. Despite the fact that this was a Normal Afterschool Activity, she was actually kind of nervous. There was some fidgeting going on, in shirtsleeve area.

It was probably because she hadn't had time to throw herself off of any roofs that morning. Completely understandable. "I’m Stephanie," she announced. "I’m very good at flipping, hopping, and jumping off of things."

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey sighed, spotting the book in her pocket. He realized that, of course, some people might bring in monologues from things other than the play that was being performed, but... the signs did not look good for his poor Twelfth Night. He rubbed at his eyebrow with his thumb, glaring balefully at Stephanie, who didn't deserve it in the least.

At least he was dimly aware of that fact; when it came time to answer Stephanie he tried to rally himself, mustering up a smile that looked more like a wince. "Right. Well, I don't think we're going to be doing much of that, actually, but if you'd like to read something...?"

[robinthepuck.livejournal.com]

The lights dimmed suddenly. A house-elf pointed a large (magical? Who the hell knew) spotlight towards the doors to the Great Hall. For a dramatic moment, all was silent. And then the doors burst open, and there was glorious music swelling. Other things might have swelled as well, because, as the soft light hit him, it was dreadfully apparent that the man at the door was stark naked.

Robin Goodfellow, in full glory, stood waiting for applause, hands on his hips.

Then, in a tone melodious and rich, he started his monologue.

"If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumber'd here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
if you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends."

Bowing low, with a flourish, Robin waited for the accolades. Because he was the Puck, damn it. This was his show.

[ka-click.livejournal.com]

Bun-Bun, overlooking Pucks shortcomings, is actually studying the list of people who signed up for this thing. Which includes the name of the guy that this is most likely to be. He underlines the name, and passes the sheet over to the director with a written note of And this might be why we're doing Midsummers nights dream.

"Right, and yer auditioning for...? Cause I think you might do well as Lysander, or Cobweb."

[nicknamegirl.livejournal.com]

((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 (http://www.mirroruptonature.com/shakespeare-monologues/female/tn-3-1-144-viola.pdf) 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.livejournal.com]

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?"

[schizowarrior.livejournal.com]

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.livejournal.com]

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?

[chimchimcherroo.livejournal.com]

Bert danced into the auditorium, dressed in his full one-man-band gear (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSvzPOXqOKI) (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.livejournal.com]

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.

[toomuchinthesun.livejournal.com]

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."

And, being an easily distracted young bloke, he continued on, "O, it offends me to the soul to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split the ears of the groundlings, who for the most part are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumbshows and noise: I would have such a fellow whipped for o'erdoing Termagant; it out-herods Herod. Ah! But to the speech."

He paused, for the briefest of seconds.

"I heard a speech once, but it was never acted; or, if it was, not above once; for the play, I remember, pleased not the million; 'twas caviar to the general: but it was--as I received it, and others, whose judgments in such matters cried in the top of mine--an excellent play, well digested in the scenes, set down with as much modesty as cunning. I remember, one said there were no sallets in the lines to make the matter savoury, nor no matter in the phrase that might indict the author of affectation; but called it an honest method, as wholesome as sweet, and by very much more handsome than fine. One speech in it I chiefly loved: 'twas Aeneas' tale to Dido; and thereabout of it especially, where he speaks of Priam's slaughter. Shall I speak it now?"

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

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 (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1391086.html?thread=71092718#t71092718) 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 (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1391225.html?thread=71099769#t71099769) 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.

[sbisawesome.livejournal.com]

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.livejournal.com]

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.

[hedwigrobinson.livejournal.com]

Hedwig took theatre fairly seriously. While she considered rock 'n' roll her salvation and her truest chosen medium, her general flair for the dramatic (and her academic work in Germany) inclined her toward an appreciation for all forms of performance.

She had considered a monologue from No Exit, its existential angst appealing to her. In the end, though, her diva sensibilities chose for her.

"I am Hedwig Robinson," she declared as she took the stage. "I am here for your audition. I will perform a monologue from the fabulous Tennessee Williams. This is from Cat on a Hot Tin Roof."

Hedwig wore one of her softer wigs, today, and one of the few hausfrau smocks she hadn't discarded from back in the Junction City days, when she'd lived as a soldier's wife on an army base. Her makeup too was softer than her usual, though still pretty damned overdone. These were her concessions to costuming.

In a voice that did not have to strain to fill space -- she had a set of lungs on her, our Hedwig -- she declaimed her lines (http://notmyshoes.net/monologues/margaret.html).

"I wish you would lose your looks. If you did, it would make the martyrdom of Saint Maggie a little more bearable. But no such goddamn luck. I actually believe you've gotten better looking since you've gone on the bottle. Yeah, a person who didn't know you would think you'd never had a tense nerve in your body or a strained muscle.

"Of course, you always had that detached quality as if you were playing a game without much concern over whether you won or lost, and now that you've lost the game, not lost but just quit playing, you have that rare sort of charm that usually only happens in very old or hopelessly sick people, the charm of the defeated - You look so cool, so cool, so enviably cool."

Here she paused, clearly breaking character, and gave an aside: "Doesn't that remind you of The Great Gatsby? Daisy says it to Gatsby (http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/f/fitzgerald/f_scott/gatsby/chapter7.html). 'Ah, you look so cool! You always look so cool...' Oh, you metatextual Americans." And resumed.

"You know, if I thought you would never, never, never make love to me again -- I would go downstairs to the kitchen and pick out the longest and sharpest knife I could find and stick it straight into my heart, I swear that I would!

"But one thing I don't have is the charm of the defeated, my hat is still in the ring, and I am determined to win!" An anguished crescendo, from which Hedwig allowed her voice to grade into the inevitable diminuendo which must follow. She gave the final words the bitter resonance of experience: "What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof? I wish I knew... Just staying on it as long as she can ..."

Tragic, transfixed, she beseeched the strange director-man and the funny little rabbit, her eyes wide and limpid. And lined with way too much kohl.

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey was delighted by Hedwig. Oh, the German was a mark against her, to be sure (he had never been a fan of German theater, and now its associations with one Darren Nichols made the entire country rather disasteful to him) as was the outrageousness of her outfit (which was also pretty much Darren's fault, actually). And the mid-monologue commentary almost had him shouting out a hearty "thank you!" right there and then and ushering her right off the stage.

But beyond those little annoyances... well, she was really pretty good. Better than nearly every other person who'd come in, certainly. And charismatic. A little old to play the leads, and God knew if he took Titania from Ellen now without giving her Helena she would never speak to him again; but Hedwig, he determined, would be in his play. And she would have a good part, dammit.

"Thank you, Ms. Robinson." It wasn't the dismissive fuck-off-and-goodbye he'd been planning on doling out earlier. He sounded genuinely pleased. "That was very good. We'll let you know when the play is cast. Do you have any questions?" He hoped not. He liked her, but that didn't mean he wanted to actually deal with anything.

[blacks-thecolor.livejournal.com]

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.livejournal.com]

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.

[c-macaulay.livejournal.com]

Camilla, who'd come into the Great Hall in search of a late lunch, watched the auditions curiously and unobtrusively for a few minutes. Could it be that Hogwarts would finally be getting some approximation of culture? This was a pleasant development.

There was a director whom Camilla hadn't yet met, and there was Bun-bun, whom Camilla remembered from his Sorting.

Perhaps it would be better simply to owl the director. Bun-bun could be rather difficult.

She pulled aside one of the aspiring actors, an outlandish-looking drag queen who apparently wanted to be a blonde Elizabeth Taylor, and asked the director's name. Owling Bun-bun likely wouldn't be much easier than talking to him face to face. Also, the drag queen turned out to be very nice, and Camilla gave him/her a cigarette and a friendly few minutes of small talk before going off to write some owls.

[makeminemayday.livejournal.com]

May had come into the Great Hall for lunch, but when her soup had been taken out by Tomo's theatrics (http://community.livejournal.com/hogwarts_hocus/1391225.html?thread=71096697#t71096697), she gave up on lunch and watched the auditions for a few minutes. There was quite a bit of... variety, and the only thing she could figure was that they were auditioning for Shakespeare. What play, though, she couldn't tell. She'd been scarred for life by high school productions of certain Shakespeare plays, or having the same plays gone over again and again by English teachers. May liked Shakespeare, but some of his stuff... if she never saw another production of Romeo and Juliet, she'd be happy.

She waited for a lull in the insanity before approaching the trio obviously in charge of auditions. "Excuse me?" she said politely. "I must have been back home when the casting call went out, because this is the first I've heard of this, but... what play are you putting on? I can't really tell from the monologues."

[crazynotstoned.livejournal.com]

Geoffrey smiled at May. It looked friendly enough, but Ellen would probably recognize it as the classic Geoffrey Tennant I hope someone dies in the next five minutes look. "I can't either," he told her grandly. "But ostensibly, we are doing A Midsummer Night's Dream, because SOMEONE--" this was addressed to a wall-- "changed the posters."

Geoff was feeling just a little frazzled right now.