fandomtownies | Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

In the basement of the boards was a small rehearsal area: a tiny stage, a number of seats. It had the right informal air for a workshop: not the intimidating air of the proper stage, but with a distinct theater vibe.

Lizzie was less nervous than she'd been last time, but that had been a one-off workshop, and not an actual class. And hey, she was a worrier, she could admit that.

She clasped her hands in front of herself and began talking.

"Hi, everyone," she said. "My name is Lizzie Bennet, and this is Jonothon Starsmore." Had everyone met Jono? If not, he was the big blue guy standing next to her. "We're teaching an improv class this semester, so if you're here for something else, then you're in the wrong place. In which case, stay anyway, because this should be fun. I hope."

"She hopes," Jono echoed, smirking faintly. "If you're standing on a stage and you're not having fun, odds are you're doing something dreadfully wrong, or you're on the losing side in a political debate. I'm going to go on the assumption that all of you are familiar in some manner with the performing arts. You might've seen a film at the cinema, or the ballet, or watched your favourite band play in concert. It all really boils down to the same thing; self expression."

For a large blue angry-looking man who was leaning heavily on a pair of crutches and was too damn stubborn to hunt down one of the ten million healers on the island in order to remedy that, he really did seem big on that self expression thing.

"Obviously something like dance or music can be improvised," he continued, "but in this class we're going to focus on the more theatrical aspect of it... Of getting onto the stage without a script, and acting out a role using your wits alone."

"So we're going to forego introductions in favor of just jumping right in to our first activity," Lizzie said excitedly. "A lot of improv is just developing a character. Your character doesn't need to be fully rounded; just a suggestion or a caricature is enough. Have a few traits in mind, and an idea how the person will react to a setting. You can convey a character in really small strokes: just the way you stand, or your tone of voice, or what words you use. And, of course, there are always props."

She held out a medium-sized box, filled to the brim with ~~moddable~~ accessories: bow ties, hair clips, hats, sunglasses, scarves, ties, gloves, headbands, and plenty of cheap-looking jewelry. "Here's your assignment," she announced. "Grab something out of the box -- anything you like. Build a quick sketch of a character, and then pair off for a scene. It could be anything: one of you buying morning coffee from the other's shop, or the last two survivors in the middle of an alien invasion -- just have fun with it."

"Let whatever prop you grab be a key part of whatever your character becomes," Jono added. "If you pull out a cane, perhaps you're a crotchety old man, or just some high-class wanker looking to impress by carrying one around that he doesn't actually need. I think there are a few fake moustaches in there. Will the one you pull out suggest that you belong standing over a railroad track, laughing and steepling your fingers as your tied-up victim cries for help? Whatever association you make is up to you. Like Lizzie said, just have fun with it."

He waved his hand toward the box.

"Pair off, and then we'll take turns on the stage with whatever props we happen to grab on the way up to it."

[Open to anyone who wants to drop in!]

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"But who wants to take that kind of chance, hmm?" Karla asked. "Especially after last time."

It might be an unreasonable fear, but it wasn't an irrational one.

"So, after class tonight? So you can walk into your classroom tomorrow instead of limping?"

"After class tonight," Jono agreed with a little nod. "Shouldn't have put it off so long, I know. Just... maybe... I shouldn't go running to a healer every time I stub my bloody toe, is all."

Because being impaled through the arm and leg in eight separate places was comparable to a stubbed toe.

"Jono, may I introduce you to the association fallacy?" Karla muttered with a sigh. "There's a huge difference in crying because you have a hangnail and being hospitalized."

She was tempted to have one of the hands flick his ear, but eventually decided to let it pass. Because she was a good friend, that's why.

"If it impedes your mobility or fighting capabilities, come see me, okay?"

Oh, sure, quibble over something small like that, Karla. Maybe he wouldn't have gone to a hospital, either, if he'd been lucid enough to make the decision for himself at the time!

"... I suppose I can do that." It wouldn't be easy, sucking it up and asking for help. But he could. "I'm not a hell of a lot of good to my team, either, if I can't stand up without shoving a stick under each armpit."

"And what if we'd been invaded by something dangerous this week, hmm?" Karla asked, because sometimes you had to rub Jono's nose in it to make him see sense. "You know there'd be a million kids out there flinging themselves into danger. And you wouldn't be able to help. Worse case, they'd put themselves into more danger trying to protect you."

C'mon, Jono. Tell her she was laying it on too thick. Tell her that wouldn't happen. Go ahead.

Even Jono knew that there was no such thing as 'too thick' when it came to beating sense into his thick skull. Really.

"Fine, fine, I get it," he grumbled, directing a glower up toward the ceiling. "I'm no good to anybody while I've got extra holes in me, I see that now."

He didn't like it, but it wasn't like he enjoyed being somewhat mangled, either.

"I'm wondering if there wasn't a hole in your head considering you're only seeing it now," Karla grumbled. "Though, I wouldn't say you're no good to anybody like this, Jon. You're still sassy and grumpy and full of sarcasm." All things Karla appreciated! "You're just not the first person we'd call in a fight right now."

This time the phantom hand did flick him. "And that's for the 'but the only thing I'm good for is fighting' thoughts I know are going through your thick skull right now."

Jono winced a little at the flick to his ear, and then grunted, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

"I know I'm good for more than fighting, Karla." And then he shot her a wry smile. "I'm also an excellent strategist, and I make pretty decent fodder when need be."

So there.

"Truth be told, I've felt pretty useless these past couple of weeks. And I think... partly I wanted to know that I could be useful somehow, even when I can't stand up and fight. Just to prove myself wrong when I do think things like that."

He hadn't come up with much, and he was going quietly insane without the ability to play his guitar, on top of it all.

"Well, did you get out and do anything these part few weeks?" Karla asked. "Or did you sit inside and mope a lot. Also, if I may remind you, it's hard to be particularly useful when you can't move one entire side of your body. Guess what--I'd have trouble being useful, too."

"I'm just as capable of reading radio notes as I ever was," Jono attempted, giving a lopsided shrug of his shoulders. "I was fairly useless over Christmas, but considering it was only a few days after the fact, I didn't take it to heart, really."

So... that was something.

"Miss playing guitar, though."

"Well, once I'm done Healing you, you can play a song just for me," Karla said, standing up and dropping a kiss on the side of his head. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a box of props to go rummage through."

Improv Class, The Boards, Thursday Evening

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