Chapter Text
Virgil got off the bus, mumbling a quick thanks to the driver. He weaved his way through the flow of people on the street, walking as quickly as he could, not willing to draw attention to himself by breaking out into a run, but really beginning to freak out. He could not afford to be late on his first day of his new job. It didn’t seem to matter how hard he planned, how often he checked the bus timetable, there was no controlling just how much the universe seemed to hate Virgil.
In typical April fashion it was pouring, and in typical Virgil fashion he had forgotten his umbrella. Fortunately, it wasn’t a long walk to the theatre from the bus stop. Virgil had seen the ad for the job at Foster Community Theatre on a forum while he’d been in the process of moving. He’d never been given a job without an interview before, so he deduced that these guys were either really desperate or he was about to be murdered, it could really have gone either way.
So why was Virgil still going? Because money. You know, that stuff you need to buy food, and shelter, and to pay your electricity bill. Virgil had just barely managed to leave home after finishing college, and he wasn’t going back if he could avoid it: His mom didn’t need the extra mouth to feed and he didn’t need his mom’s bullshit.
The façade of the theatre was run-down, but it was plastered with posters advertising the upcoming performance: Shakespeare’s the Tempest. Although the front of the building was dusty and crumbling, it looked earnest. Virgil wasn’t sure how a building was able to look earnest, but somehow it did.
The inside looked a lot better than the outside, showing all the signs of a recent, intense clean. He walked through the foyer and through the door that said “STAFF ONLY” which lead backstage, as the instructions on the email told him to.
“Are you Virgil?” came a voice to Virgil’s right, making him jump.
“Um, yeah,” he said, trying to recover some of his dignity. It didn’t work.
“Sorry,” the person put his arm out before them, “I’m Joan, the producer and co-director. I’m just asking so I can tick you off. Normally you’ll fill out your own time sheet, but as it’s your first day, I’ll do it for you, so you have an example.
“Thanks,” Virgil said.
Joan pointed out the important stuff; bathroom, dressing rooms, where spare trusses were stored, etc. Virgil was doing his best to keep track of it all by the time they reached the sound/lighting booth. Virgil breathed a sigh of relief. This was his space, he knew what he was doing. True, it wasn’t a room or a box like the one at his college had been, but the controls formed a sort of wall around him and his swivel chair marking the territory as his own.
“Can I, um, sort of, practice with these?” Virgil asked. The systems were the same brands he knew, but they were different models.
“Sure, play with lights and sounds. I’ll radio you when the cast turn up.” Joan offered Virgil a smile and then went on their way.
Virgil had a look at the script he’d been given, colour-coding the light cues in purples and pinks, and the sound cues in blues and greens. Once he’d figured the order out, he examined the controls, tentatively pressing the buttons and flicking the switches that should give him the beginning storm.
When Joan radioed him, Virgil was already in Act 3, and so far he at least understood what he was working with.
Virgil just kept his head down and the stage lit when the actors entered. He didn’t recognise any of them, he’d only just moved. They stood around the way actors do, with comradery, but also rivalry. Joan stood beside the loudest person in the group (and that was saying something). His build was athletic and though he wasn’t the tallest in the group he had a way of drawing attention to himself, so he stood out more than anyone else in the room.
He was able to watch them figure things out while he marked where the cues were and fidgeted with the placement of the lights. He was careful not to turn any of them off, so the stage stayed lit. He knew this was the easy part of this job. Eventually, he’d be putting together curtain cues, costumes, and props, but for now it was just setting up lighting and sound that he needed to deal with.
Virgil was only sort of listening to the actors when Joan asked him, “Virgil, what do you think?”
“Hm? Think of what?” Virgil was confused.
“Roman’s idea.” Joan gestured to the man beside them.
“I suggested,” Said Roman grandly, making Virgil wonder if this guy was for real, “that during the flashback of Act 1 Scene 2, we have the swirling of the tempest give way to the flashback acting on stage, so it’s like the inside of a crystal ball.” Roman was gesticulating so wildly that Virgil wasn’t sure where to look.
Virgil tried to find a nice way to say what he had to say. He failed. “No.”
Roman looked at him affronted. Virgil continued “It simply isn’t possible with the lights set up like this, and you’d need multiple projectors. Also, while that would look really awesome on film, on stage it would just be a way-too-long transition.”
“Thanks, Tickle-me-Emo.” Roman was clearly annoyed at having had his idea put down. But it simply hadn’t been possible. Virgil gave Joan a look that he hoped screamed ‘help me’.
“Sorry Virgil, Roman Prince just hates having his ideas shut down. He’ll get over it.” Joan said, “But sometimes his ideas are amazing, after all without him this place would have been shut down. He owns the theatre.” They walked off after Roman.
Great, thanks Joan, I feel so much better, Virgil thought sarcastically. But he watched Roman closely after that. Virgil couldn’t understand how on earth Roman was running a theatre. He was just so easily distracted, like a magpie running after every shiny thing he could see. He lit up on the stage as Prospero, but that just made him a good actor, not necessarily a good manager. And that was all without mentioning how young he was, he didn’t look any older than Virgil and 23 was definitely too young to run a theatre. Virgil stifled a groan, this guy was supposed to be his boss. That really was just his luck.
Just as things were beginning to quiet down, and people were slowly beginning to leave, Virgil heard Roman squeal.
“You’re early!” And before Virgil could process what was happening two men had run at each other, leaping into each other’s arms like it was a freaking Disney movie.
As it wasn’t, in fact, a Disney movie, the two of them fell with a thump onto the hard floor. That didn’t stop them giggling or kissing. And while the kissing was pretty chaste there was enough of it going on that Virgil definitely felt like he was intruding. Another man walked up beside the two of them and offered his hands out to them both. He was more put-together than both of them, and looked very done with this.
“Aw! Thanks Logan,” said the other one, taking Logan’s hand and kissing him on the cheek.
“Yes, thank you, dearest,” Roman added, pulling himself up on the other arm and kissing Logan’s other cheek.
“I gave my students an early mark, so Patton was able to pick me up early,” Logan said, “He insisted we come home to see you.” Although Logan’s tone was clipped and polished, there was affection in his voice, becoming more apparent as the corners of his lips turned up.
“As soon as we get everything packed up, I’ll be right with you.” Roman promised, kissing Logan first, then Patton.
Virgil looked down at his now-tidy work station, and left, signing out like Joan had shown him to. He made his bus, which was an enormous relief, the trip home was long enough without him having to wait outside in the rain.