Brighton, by the Pier, Thursday Evening

[dark_slippy_thing]

Valentine was a very important man. He had a...

Well. He didn't have a tower. He had a flat, now. In Brighton. A high school education. A decent job waiting tables. A beautiful girlfriend. He'd auditioned for a role in some sort of local play last month, and rehearsals were already underway. He was almost starting to get used to the fact that he was missing his face. This was, apparently, all part of being real.

Who would have thought?

Still and all, old habits tended to die hard. And so, this particular afternoon, he was standing by Brighton Pier, taking full advantage of the city's thriving tourist population by juggling, his jacket spread out on the ground in front of him.

No, he wasn't necessarily soliciting for money. But he certainly wouldn't turn any down, should any wealthy tourist decide they would like to help him line his pockets.

"And anyhow," he said, his words falling into a rhythm with the one-two-three of the juggling balls hitting and leaving his hands again, "the man is absolutely daft. Can't make up his mind if he's coming or going. Directors these days. Absolutely nothing like the way I would run a show, you know. I'd bring a sense of style to the performance. Of class. And I would know, of course, which way is up."

[For one! NFB, 'cause this is Brighton and all. YAY.]

Comments

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"Of course," Naminé agreed easily. She could listen and sketch at the same time, and she was used to Valentine's frequent rants. "Daft, and thoroughly incompetent. One wonders how he was hired to be the director at all."

If there was the very slightest hint of teasing to her voice, Naminé was certainly unaware of where that might have come from.

[dark_slippy_thing]

"One does," Valentine insisted, nodding at a generous American who was more than happy to give him a few coins. Possibly just to shut him up. That would never really surprise Valentine, melodious though his voice might be. "He can't make up his mind about any single thing. The stage manager is the only one who can tolerate him, I think, and I have my suspicious as to how she got that job in the first place."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"She likely employed her feminine wiles," Naminé said, glancing up at Valentine from over her sketchpad. "Winked, and teased, and flirted. You know how we young ladies can be. The director incompetent, and the stage manager a cheap floozy: who else is unsuited for their position?"

[dark_slippy_thing]

"We have no props manager," Valentine continued. "He stormed off in a fit. The director wouldn't give him a props list. Or keep the script the same, for that matter. Even if he had gone through the script page-by-page to see what he needs to round up, it would be different again by this time tomorrow. The man's a lunatic, Naminé, plain and simple."

Clearly, if Valentine thought someone was insane, they would have to be good and batshit.

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

Naminé set her pencil down and wiggled her toes further into the sand.

"You know," she said, "an impartial observer might note that several of your bosses, co-workers, and fellow actors have been called everything from 'bloody incompetent' to 'thoroughly unqualified.' You seem to have singular luck, in your associates."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"But of course," he agreed, flashing a group of young tourists his most winning grin. If there was anything Valentine could do quite well indeed with his new face (or lack thereof), it was grin. "And you'd have to agree, if you knew what I dealt with day in and out. We had a group of tourists in just yesterday, at the restaurant. Three dozen, at least. And do you think anybody had the presence of mind to pull out the dessert menu until I passed by their tables?"

And a one-two-three, and catch, and turn, and bow.

"Of course not! It's dessert, Naminé. Nothing that goes on those tables in front of those people is more important than dessert."

And bow again. And start another routine.

"But that isn't my point! My point is, this director is absolutely bloody useless."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"If dessert is so essential, one wonders that the tourists did not think to ask for the menu," she said lightly. "I was merely suggesting that when you are surrounded by these incompetents, it's hard for the rest of us to know exactly where they rank on the scale of relative failure."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Usually," Valentine noted, "at the bottom. In the worst way. This director, however, is on a scale of his own. They've made one up with him in mind. It's called 'the scale of positively imbecilic,' and he takes up every position on the scale, which goes from one to ten. Every position from about negative eleven to about three hundred and twenty two."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"Just out of curiosity," Naminé said, "and I don't mean to doubt your sincerity, but if you were currently upset about another individual, would that person have his or her own scale of failure? You see, this is the difficulty with using hyperbole. Had you merely said your co-workers were mildly frustrating, I might properly understand your current rage."

She lifted her pencil again and began sketching.

[dark_slippy_thing]

Valentine looked at Naminé somewhat dubiously for a moment, catching the balls that he was juggling and quirking his head to the side.

"Then perhaps I ought to put it this way. On a sanity scale which measures from one to ten, this particular man ranks a Jerry. Or perhaps fish. No, no, this man is too decisive for 'fish.' He ranks 'Jerry.' Or maybe donkey. Although I'm afraid the donkeys are dead..."

See, Valentine had absolutely been paying attention in... Spleen Carrot Fruit Loop Coconut class. Or whatever it had been.

"He's changed the script on us five times this month."

Valentine grunted and started to juggle once more.

"It's the sixth."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

Naminé was going to stare at Valentine for a few moments.

"You're joking," she said finally. "This month, as in November? Do you mean large, sweeping changes, or has he told you to remove that line of dialogue and someone else to enter earlier in scene four and that's what you would count as two changes?"

[dark_slippy_thing]

"I put three scripts into the bin just this week," Valentine informed her. "After putting two whole pages in at the start of the week. One actress left in tears. Her role had been completely written out. But it was alright. The next day, it had been written back in. With twice as many lines as before."

Caaaasually juggling.

"I miss Fandom Chicken, you know. Now that was art."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

Naminé felt slightly ashamed of herself for assuming that Valentine was kvetching on petty grounds.

"The man's a lunatic," she said. "That's no way to run a play. That's chaos and madness. One can invite chaos into the creative process, now and then, but he's let it take over."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Rehearsals are half done, and I'm not entirely certain what the name of the character I'm playing actually is, anymore. Last week, it was John. I think this week already, I've been George, Ringo, Paul, Peter, and, in some strange alternative gender-swapped version of the script that was supposed to be chic and dazzling, Mary."

Catch the balls. Bow again. Smile for the punters.

"I've half a mind to walk out, myself. But the show must go on, you know."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"Is this avant-garde?" she asked. "Is he giving some post-modern production on how the author is dead and the play is whatever he chooses for it to be? Or has he simply stopped taking his medications?"

Post-modernism wouldn't forgive him being a loony. It would just explain rather a lot.

[dark_slippy_thing]

"We haven't decided yet," Valentine mused. He decided to take a bit of a break from juggling in order to gather up his coins and pull his jacket on again. The beginning of November just so happened to be a bit on the nippy side, to be standing around outside, juggling without a coat.

... He missed his floppy coat, too.

"We've a betting pool, actually. The actors and the lighting designer and even our producer, who was, in fact, drunk when she agreed to fund this show, and now she's stuck for it. I'll have enough for groceries for half a month if it turns out the man is actually on the run from the local nuthouse, and is hiding amongst the theatrical sorts in the vain hope that nobody will notice."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

She missed his floppy coat, as well. Perhaps he should get one. They had enough money to get by, now, between his job and hers. (Who would have expected Valentine to be such a fabulous waiter?)

"Can't the producer rein him in somehow?" she asked. "I would have thought she was higher up, and therefore could impose order. Or perhaps all of you could mutiny. There are more of you than him, even if he does have the stage manager on his side. What are her crimes, incidentally?"

[dark_slippy_thing]

"The stage manager? Her biggest crime," Valentine mused, "is that she takes his side."

Yes, this was a travesty.

"You know, I'm beginning to think that a mutiny would be a spectacular idea. A coup d'etat, if you will. A hostile takeover. If I have to steal the script and burn it in front of the rest of the cast, and then we write our own bloody play..."

Actually, that seemed brilliant.

...

"Naminé, I think it's entirely possible that your genius knows no boundaries."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"We knew that," she laughed, her eyes dancing. "It is difficult being this brilliant, but I do bravely soldier on. I wish you luck, in your mutiny. Perhaps you could make a brave pirate flag out of the ashes of the script."

Mutinies required eye patches.

"It is very nearly too dark to sketch," she noted, dusting her hands off on her skirt and standing up. "And a bit chilly. Were you finished juggling?"

[dark_slippy_thing]

Valentine stuck his hands, and the juggling balls he held within them, into his pockets and gave them a bit of a shake, listening for the satisfying jangle of change within.

"I believe I've had rather enough for one evening, yes," he agreed, grinning her way. "Shall we? We can discuss the logistics of a proper sort of mutiny on the way. A pirate flag, you say? Painted on a sheet of pilfered scrim, I suppose. Only properly viewable if our lighting designer deems to light it from the sides or above."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"That's only helpful if the lighting designer is complicit in the mutiny," she laughed, tucking her sketchpad under an arm and leaning up for a kiss. "Should he switch sides, you will be flag-less, and what sort of mutiny is that?"

[dark_slippy_thing]

"I suppose if that happens, I shall just have to call in an accomplished artistic sort to save the day," Valentine mused, leaning back down to meet her lips for that kiss. "I'm certain," he continued, "that we can find one. Somewhere."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"We artists are a fickle lot," she laughed. "I hope you have a sufficient bribe prepared. Make sure you can top any counteroffer they might throw my way."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"I have no doubt in my mind, not even in the deepest, darkest corners within, that I have the capacity to find a bribe sufficient enough, an offer that is irresistible enough, a price high enough that no counteroffer that the useless director can scrounge up will be even remotely tempting."

Valentine seemed rather certain of this.

"Whatever that offer is, I'll tell you when I think of it."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"It would probably be something horribly improper and dreadfully illicit," Naminé said, looping her arm through his and leaning her head against his shoulder as they walked. "Which would make a very pleasant bribe, I confess."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Probably," Valentine agreed with a somewhat pleased bob of his head. "And I'm almost certain that I'd be putting forth that particular offer just as much for myself as for the purposes of persuading you over to our merry little mutiny."

He chuckled, then, turning his face to look at her as they walked.

Old habit, looking at people with his whole face. Peripheral vision was miraculous, but the point of it was rather lost upon Valentine at the best of times.

"And if that doesn't work, I shall just have to get you a puppy."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"For all you know, I may be a revolutionary," she declared. "Inclined to mutiny wherever it strikes me. A puppy?"

Her eyes lit up, and then she laughed. "Oh, but you're only saying that. I don't believe they'd take well to us having a puppy in our flat."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"It would be a secret puppy. A mute puppy. A ninja puppy."

For all Valentine knew, they could very well exist.

"Or perhaps a goldfish. Or a dogfish. Is there such a thing as a dogfish? There ought to be."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"There are catfish. It would be discriminatory for there not to be dogfish, as well," she said, chewing her lower lip. "You know, we've never asked if we might keep a puppy. Secret, mute, ninja or otherwise."

[dark_slippy_thing]

....

This was true.

Huh.

"I'll talk to the lessor tomorrow about the possibility of getting a puppy, then," Valentine declared. Because where was the fun in doing sensible things, like selecting a breed, or even determining if they were serious about getting a dog? There was none! Naturally.

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"There's a shelter on London Road," Naminé smiled. "I pass it on the way to work. If we can get a puppy ..."

Well. They were both misfits. Surely it was only fitting to take home a stray.

[dark_slippy_thing]

"If we can, then we will," Valentine decided. Because it was totally Valentine's decision to make, being a very important man, and all. He'd even had a tower, once.

Plus, he had several key disconnects in his headspace when it came to asking others their opinion.

"Yes, a puppy! And a mutiny! Excellent!"

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"Perhaps the puppy shall lead the mutiny," she said. Trying not to get her hopes up. She wasn't sure if lessors particularly enjoyed their tenants keeping puppies.

Maybe they could smuggle one in, and lie?

[dark_slippy_thing]

No, no, that isn't a puppy. That's only Jason. He's rehearsing for a play, you know. Constantly. For the next twenty years, perhaps. It's a very involved play. You know how Jason is.

"If the puppy was the one to lead the mutiny, then it would have to be the cast who was absolutely barking mad, I should think." Valentine tilted his head, considering. "Perhaps we'll be lucky, and the director will happen to be allergic."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"That was a rather nice pun," she laughed. "Perhaps the cast would be mad and the puppy, barking. Or we could name it something like The Director Is Unpleasant, though that isn't a very kind name for a puppy."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"I was thinking something more flattering than 'The Director Is Unpleasant,'" Valentine mused. "Perhaps Bonecrusher or Guinness."

Valentine had been introduced to Guinness at work.

The world would never be the same again.

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"We are not naming an adorable wriggly little puppy 'Bonecrusher,'" she insisted. "Although Guinness isn't quite so bad. We could name him something dramatic and artistic. Perhaps we should see when we meet him, what sort of puppy he looks like."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Perhaps," Valentine mused, "we'll meet him, and he'll strike us as a Really Useful Puppy, or something of the sort."

Really, he would have appreciated a puppy named Bonecrusher. It had a certain air of importance to it, after all.

"If he does, I suppose we shall have to see if he comes with a net."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

Naminé laughed again, breathing in the cool night air. Feeling like she could let this moment stretch out for hours and still be perfectly content.

"I suppose, if he did, he would chew on it," she said. "Until there were big gaping holes. I've heard puppies chew rather frequently. On anything and everything they can reach."

She wouldn't mind in the least.

[dark_slippy_thing]

"I hear they chase things, as well. Juggling balls are rather a more rare commodity in this world than they were in any of the other ones I've been to."

Well, they were. Valentine, as a matter of fact, had been juggling those brightly coloured bean-filled kick-sack thingies, which he had picked up for ludicrously cheap at a thrift store on money that he'd earned juggling stones by the pier, the first few days they had been in Brighton.

It wouldn't do for Bonecrusher to eat them.

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"Then we shall have to get extra," she said, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "A constant supply. Perhaps you and Off-Broadway could play tug-of-war."

It wasn't like that was a much worse name than Bonecrusher.

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Off-Broadway?" Valentine tilted his head, seriously considering the name for a moment. "I like it! Do you think I could teach him to juggle?"

Delusions of grandeur were already percolating in his wee little mind.

Fear.

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"I believe you are actually expressly forbidden from teaching him to juggle," Naminé said with a smile. "On penalty of not being allowed to corrupt the puppy further, and losing juggling privileges yourself."

[dark_slippy_thing]

"Well, perhaps I could teach him to dance, instead. And we could name him something... lyrical. Mr. Bojangles has a pleasant ring to it..."

Valentine shot Naminé one of those quick, slightly troublesome grins of his, and then put his arms around her and gave her a rather spontaneous squeeze.

"I, for one, am perfectly in favor of all things having to do with juggling, Naminé, and the corruption of innocent baby canines."

[palestshadow.livejournal.com]

"That's a far better name than Bonecrusher," she agreed, slipping her arms around his neck and returning the squeeze. "We shall find other ways to corrupt the puppy. He'll be abnormal, anyway. He would have to be."