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Bluth's Original Frozen Banana Stand, Thurs [3/20]

Geoffrey was not doing a single thing that has to do with bananas. Well, if he really lost his mind and decided to put his lead actor into the banana suit that he certainly wasn't wearing no way no how no matter what he told the little neurotic who ran the place, perhaps. But it was highly unlikely.

He was not Darren Nichols.

He was, however, staring at two texts and trying to decide between them. The Tempest. Or Titus Andronicus.

Would he be the sorcerer or the madman?

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He looked very thoughtful. But do feel free to bother.

Makoto was walking by, enjoying a quick lunch break, and wandered over to say hello. 'Hello' was promptly thrown out the window though on noticing the books. "Plays?" 'She' asked brightly.

He nodded absently, not looking up.

"Plays," he agreed. "I'm trying to choose which one I'll be doing."

He was picking a suit, really. A suit to wear as he went out to the world. He'd been 'naked' too long; playing at being himself never worked very well and it would only hold for so long before things started to get unpleasant.

More unpleasant.

"You're an actor?" Makoto was quietly delighted, yes. "Or a director?"

"Director," he said immediately. "Acting... I'm retired."

It wasn't worth the mental instability. Further... mental instability.

"Did you act for a long time?" Makoto asked, "and do you mean to put on plays here? Or elsewhere?"

Now he looked up, a manic smile on his face. It was a face animated, almost like a puppet in a theme park ride. Where before the boat of tourists had yet to arrive, now his head is up and his eyes flash and he is for the moment, at the very least.

"I mean to set up a theatre," he said, seriously. "I have, mostly. I've gotten the plumbing to cooperate and most of the repairs are done."

When you've done theatre for as little money as Geoffrey has, you learn to be your own backstage crew (not that he wouldn't be looking for help in that direction as well).

"Small," admittedly, "but it has everything a theatre needs."

An empty space, plumbing, texts, and him.

"Other than actors. I haven't figured out how to get the word out, really, and this place is somewhat, how can I say it? Disconnected from things?"

Inconveniences aside, it was to his advantage for a lot of reasons and he liked it, really.

The man had just made himself Makoto's hero. "It is," 'she' said, "disconnected, if you wish. But there's still actors around, or people who'd be interested."

He'd been smelling actor (and he meant it in a non-gender specific sort of way) since the first word.

"I'm assuming you'd be one of them?"

"Of course," 'she' said lightly, "is it that obvious?"

It was if you knew that he was attending school as a 'she' just to prove to his father that, yes, he could act.

"Somewhat," he said with a small smile as he looked up at her. It was warm, in a way.

Mostly it was daring. Would she brave the madman before her to act in his play?

"It's going to be one of these two," he said and he presented them both, two worn copies.

Makoto straightened a bit at his smile. Of course 'she' was daring enough.

'She' looked at them both, already knowing them, and yet not adverse to looking through them again. "If you want my opinion," 'she' said, "then I'd sat The Tempest, because that one would probably go over better at Fandom. Which would give you a better chance to build clientele."

He snorted.

"I don't really give a shit about clientèle," he said with a shake of his head and a brief laugh. "The point... is the art. If I wanted to please people, I wouldn't be doing Shakespearean theatre."

It was a silly question anyway. He'd pick the play that suited him most at the moment, the one he wanted, the one he thought he could drag kicking and screaming out of his actors, whoever they might be.

Titus, he thought to himself.

He let the razor blade slip out from between his lips and smiled a wicked little smile.

"'These words are razors'," he quoted as he lifted one text over another and slipped the his own blade in between the pages, like a bookmark "I think I'm in the mood for that."

Let them cut a place for him here. Or maybe just cut things open a little. He had his little apprentice to cut down to size as well. Titus would be good to start with for him.

"It was only an opinion," Makoto said, "I never said a thing about you having to take it. And of course it's more about the art," in 'her' best 'isn't that obvious?' voice, "I was just saying."

And not going. Even if Makoto was thinking that this guy was rather, uh, unqiue.

He gave a crooked grin.

"I've been asked if I directed movies three or four times since I got here." He wobbled a hand.

"Got me on edge about it."

The Tempest was tucked away into the massive black coat he wore while he opened up his play.

"Thank you, though. Very helpful. I hope the choice of material hasn't turned you away."

And an eyebrow raised, another challenge, said Geoffrey was testing him already.

"Theatre's better," Makoto said dismissively, "more genuine."

Makoto met the look right on. "Who would it?"

He ignored the question.

"I've got to talk to my assistant" and no, Troy didn't know he was going to be Geoffrey's assistant perhaps but Geoffrey did "but come back here next week, having given the play a fresh read, and I'll cast. Feel free to bring anyone else who might be interested. Hell, bring anyone else."

It was the first production; he'd take what he got. He'd make them into his actors and even if all he got out of the first crop was one or two people who were brave enough to do it, he'd consider it a success. He was pretty sure he already had at least two.

"All right?"

"Alright," Makoto said, flipping 'her' hair over one shoulder, "I'll be by for sure."

But he was looking at the text again, reading it as if for the first time, ignoring the notes. He waved her off, though. He was that polite.

You'd probably notice some Shakespeare in the background. He was murmuring the lines thoughtfully.

The world will end in Pie.

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Bluth's Original Frozen Banana Stand, Thurs [3/20]

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Enjoy Your Banana

OOC