* people who need people

[angie]

Since he was old enough to talk, Victor's cure for insomnia had been exactly the same. Whenever he couldn't sleep, didn't want to sleep, or was just bored, really, he did one thing, and one thing only: performed. Of course, the situation had changed over time. When he was five, his performances had been to an audience of the eggs, milk and cheese in the fridge and invariably ended in a lecture from his parents about respecting other people's nightly routines. (That, of course, led to the question about them respecting his nightly routine, but that never ended well for him.) Two years later, he'd figured out that there were actual places where people were paid to do that sort of thing at relatively late hours (for a seven-year-old, anyway). After that, legal or not, he'd kept a copy of the key to the theatre, and whenever he felt depressed or failed a test or just didn't want to deal with real life, he'd head to the theatre, sweet-talk and/or bribe the techies into not telling anyone he was there (okay, unprofessional, but still) and just sing and dance his little heart out. Eventually, though, he'd come to the realization that what he was doing was hardly a good thing, so by the time high school came around he'd decided he'd have to settle for the LaGuardia stage. It worked, of course, but it just wasn't the same.

The whole point of this was that things hadn't changed for Vicky, even though he was twelve years older and ostensibly more mature. Only the location had changed. Now, rather than sneaking into the LaGuardia auditorium or the Broadhurst, he was using his student id to get access into the Emerson Theatre. Tonight was definitely going to be one of the nights where a trip to the theatre was necessary; it was already midnight and he had no intention of (and probably lacked the ability to fall asleep anytime soon. The best thing about the entire situation was, of course, the fact that nobody else was around. He was completely free to do whatever he wanted, which included wearing whatever he wanted and, more importantly - singing whatever he wanted. He took full advantage of that fact, too - he was even relatively dressed down for the 'occasion', if it could be considered that. He still wasn't in jeans and a t-shirt (the only time Victor would ever wear jeans and a t-shirt was when he was dead and in his coffin, and only then he'd only wear that if someone else dressed him). As soon as he'd dressed in a pair of khakis and a blue button-up, he walked out the door, making sure that he had his key and and id. His roommate, of course, was asleep - most people were at this hour, so he was relatively quiet on his way out.

It was a beautiful night, he decided, and he was glad that he'd decided to at least come outside, even if it was only a short walk to the theatre. He took a quick look around before heading inside, and was thankful to find it empty. He'd once walked in on a bunch of freshman dancers in a late rehearsal. Well, that had been embarrassing. He couldn't help but smile when he walked inside - this was where he belonged. He made it up to the stage fairly quickly, turning on just the spotlight. He'd already decided that the first song was going to be "My Man". As far as he was concerned, Barbra Streisand was nothing less than a goddess, and it wasn't like he'd ever get to perform the song for real. Why not do it now? He'd forgotten to bring his backing tapes, but no matter. It wasn't like anyone else was around, anyway. He started singing, finishing on the big note - "For whatever my man is, I am his forever more."

[/color] That song was exhausting - there was no other way to put it. Emotionally draining, technically difficult…why was it that girls got all the good songs? He was so enthralled in his own little world that he didn't even notice the lone person standing in the audience until they decided to speak up.

NOTES: SONG=HERE WORDS: IDK STATUS : COMPLETE OUTFIT: HERE TAGGED: OPEN[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/font][/size]

[bentley16]

Inspiration can be found anywhere. In a poem, in a song, in the eyes of someone that you see on the metro station. That is how Sloane tried to go through life, she wanted to be able to uncover the beauty that is hidden within this world. She was an artist, she painted images of beauty and wrote down verses that seem to speak to her. When she decided to come to Emerson, she was escaping the stuffiness of her family and the obligations that seemed to be closing in on her from left and right. But, she had yet to find a niche where she could feel artistic inspiration. As the month of September seemed to roll through the city of Philadelphia, the foliage on the trees were changing and Sloane had taken to finding spots around campus that were good.

She never left her apartment without her sketchpad and notebook. She could write down something that she saw or trying to capture an image that was too beautiful to miss. Sloane had also taken to finding secluded spots on campus where she could be by herself. It was still late and she had found refuge in the theater where she was able to work on the paper that she needed to get done by Thursday. Even though she was jamming to her tunes through her iPod, she did here someone come into the theater.

She kind of got a little freaked out because of the hour and automatically thought that it was a security guard telling her that it was getting a little late and she should probably head on home. But, then she noticed the spotlight come up and she heard someone singing. What was interesting about the singing was that it was Barbara Streisand song from Funny Girl and it was a guy singing it. In terms of appreciating music and understanding it, she knew about as much as her mother and that was basically nothing. She watched the guy give a very emotional and brilliant rendition of the song and when she was done, she did a little bit of a slow clap and said with a smile:

"I would have chose 'The Way We Were'" she said with a bit of snap in her tone, "But, I am sure you did Barbara some justice with that song as well"

[angie]

Whenever Victor was on stage, the rest of the world seemed to come to a halt. Some of the people he'd talked to said they became super aware on the stage, but for him it was the complete opposite. Everything seemed to come to a halt, really. That was part of the reason it was the perfect late night pastime, as far as he was concerned. It didn't matter whether or not he had ten tests the next day, whether he'd failed ten tests that day or had just been dumped. Once he was on that stage, he could be whoever and whatever he wanted to be, especially late at night when no one else was around. During the day there was always some macho jerk around to make fun of him, and even though Vicky didn't particularly care and was more than used to it by now, he still preferred not to give them any more material to work with than they already had, and he was pretty sure that if he performed a song called "My Man", especially one by Barbra Streisand, he'd never hear the end of it, no matter how well he sang it. That was why songs like that were generally kept for, well, for times like this, when he knew (or at least thought) that he was alone.

So, obviously, when somebody started clapping, his first instinct was to run offstage and pretend like the whole thing had never happened. His second was to thank god that he hadn't decided to go back into the costume deck, find the prettiest dress he could find, and change into that. He did do that every now and then, and he could only imagine how awkward that would have been. This was bad enough - what was he supposed to say? Nobody else was supposed to be here; nobody else was ever really supposed to see that. Flamboyant as hell and proud of it he might have been, but there was a line between proud and crazy, and singing Barbra songs about men was very far on the wrong side of that line. And now he had to talk to someone about it? God, maybe next time he'd just go to one of the rehearsal rooms. It wasn't necessarily that he had anything against the girl, but, well, it was just strange, having to justify his choices to someone he didn't even know when he hadn't planned on being judged.

Regardless of how embarrassing his decision to sing that song had been, he was still irrationally and unnecessarily protective of his choices; he always had been. His first thought was, bitch, please, but at the same time he decided that it was entirely too early/late to be that rude to someone he didn't even know. Unfortunately, his second, third and fourth thoughts were just as bitchy, so it took him a while to respond. "Thanks?"

[/color] he said, not entirely sure whether or not that was a compliment or something else entirely. "Who are you, anyway?[/color] he added somewhat petulantly, crossing his arms.

NOTES: BLAH WORDS: IDK STATUS : COMPLETE OUTFIT: HERE TAGGED: OPEN[/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/font][/size]

[bentley16]

Sloane was just looking for a quiet place to study, she did not know that she was going to interrupt anyone's thunderous moment. She just wanted to get this art history paper out of the way. It seemed like the universe was trying to tell her something, but she was not going to give in. Not as easily as she wanted to. She was going to get a good grade on this even if it killed her. Even though she gave this guy a compliment, he still had a frigid attitude surrounding him. That was the thing about a lot of people at Emerson, they were just a little too privileged for their own good. Privilege was something that Sloane knew very well and growing up in British aristocracy, she knew a thing or two about snobs. But, it was these Americans that she just could not stand sometimes. But as her mother would always say it is important to treat people the way that you wanted to be treated. So, she did not try to come up with a bitchy comment or smart remark, she tend to keep her cool under pressure. She was calm a large majority of the time.

When she saw him fold his arms and ask who she was, she gave a little smile and said: "I am Sloane and I was just trying to find a nice place to do my paper" she said pointing to the bag of notes and books that were sitting on the chair next to her:

"I did not know that I was going to see a show" she said looking at him, "It is pretty late, dont you think, but I am guessing this isnt the first time that you do something like this"

She could see that he probably did this on a regular, but she also got a little joy from seeing this guy a little bit embarassed by her appearance: "Since, you interrogated me, what is your name?'