[3rd floor] Saturday morning in the common room.

[rushmore-yankee.livejournal.com]

Max sits in the third floor common room, steaming cup of coffee (with saucer) at the ready, large French press and extra cupware nearby. He's got papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him. It looks like a script or something. He's chewing thoughfully on the end of a Sharpie, idly tweaking the safety pin that attaches the earpiece to his frame of his glasses, and staring at an elaborate Venn diagram with various Fandom High student names on it.

Max is working on a play. It'll be a grand, unification theory effort: possibly Rocky Horror, possibly Our Town, and — more than possibly — some kind of meta mash-up between the two. Maybe a little Shrew. He's going to have to think on it.

[ooc: I'm in and out all weekend, but I wanted to put something up. Open to anyone who happens to be in the area, or who is a SERIOUS, SERIOUS actor. (kidding.)]

Comments

[rushmore-yankee.livejournal.com]

Max looks surprised, "Really? That's too bad. You have kind of a Maureen O'Hara vibe about you. That sort of patrician grace."

He nods thoughtfully.

"But, maybe you'd like to try? Acting, I mean? Or... maybe something behind the scenes? Although, you have WAY too much presence to just hawk tickets."

He doesn't say any of this flirtatiously, believe it or not. He states it all matter-of-factly, like he's commenting on some old, dead film star that he's look at on microfiche.

[chasingangela]

This is one of the most sincere compliments Angela has ever gotten, and she is flattered even as she shakes her head. "No. I, like, get really bad stage fright and just stand there frozen. It's ... bad."

She stands looking at Max for a moment, and, suprising herself, adds "But I could maybe help with behind-the-scenes stuff. What would you need?"

[rushmore-yankee.livejournal.com]

"Everything," Max says, emphatically. "I'm new here. I need a whole crew. Assistant director. Costuming. Line coaches. Set design. Stage manager. Casting. Publicity. I need everything. Scoring. Do you play music? Know anything about sewing? or... pyrotechnics?"

Because, really: Max is a lot of things, but he's not a sexist. Girls could be pyrotechnical experts, as well.

[chasingangela]

Angela laughs a little. "I would so blow myself up with any pyrotechnics." She thinks. "Um, I could maybe help with set design and line coaching, I have a pretty good memory."

[rushmore-yankee.livejournal.com]

"Excellent news," Max smiles, glowingly. He's got braces and they sparkle immaculately. "'Angela... Chase' - possible set design, solid on line prompting, coaching. Great. Thanks for volunteering. You know..." He leans in confidentially, as if he's about to tell Angela some highly priviledged spy secrets, "THREE of the former Max Fischer Players went on to study acting. One went to Strasberg, one to Bollywood, and one to Julliard. I'll let you be the judge of where the real talent went, just as long as I can say I knew them before they were giants."

He sits back and sips his coffee. Reminiscing. Eventually, he comes out of his reverie and asks solemnly, "Angela. What would Leonardo di Vinci ask Leonardo di Caprio, if given the chance?"

[chasingangela]

Angela is biting the insides of her mouth to keep from laughing. In a school full of demons and aliens and vampires, she still thought Max might be the most unique person around.

"Um... I guess he'd ask him what the future was like? Or, like, if people still remembered him, and whether he was seen more as an artist or more as an inventor," she says. "I don't think da Vinci would care about Di Caprio being a famous actor so much."