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“Everyone needs to be on stage in five minutes! Rehearsal starts in five minutes! If you have a mic and it’s not checked, you better get your ass on stage now and take care of it,” the stage manager, June, called out into the dressing room before quickly leaving.
“Is this a full makeup run?” Jaskier asked the room. “Please tell me this isn’t a full makeup run. Five minutes is not enough time to make my cheekbones look good.”
With a roll of his eyes, one of the men nearby, who was still buttoning up his shirt, said, “You look fine.”
Jaskier looked affronted as he quickly used a brush to work blush into his cheeks. “I might look fine to you, sir, but I wouldn’t be caught dead like this.”
“It’s just a dress rehearsal man,” someone else said, “Lead or not, no one will care.”
“But I care! Isn’t that enough?” He puckered his lips and stared at himself in the mirror as he added a little more blush to his left cheek to even it out. “Well, I guess this will make do for now. Remind me to get here earlier for the actual performances if you are all going to hog the makeup like this again.”
“There’s only one palette in the guy’s room because we usually don’t do much,” someone muttered, but Jaskier ignored him to hurry onto backstage, the costumes for his quick changes in tow.
He carefully hung them on his assigned hook as June yelled, “Two minutes! Get on stage, people!”
Most of the cast didn’t have a specific spot for the opening, as they’re all partying, and Jaskier’s only instruction was to try to stay hidden until his first speaking lines. Nervous energy flitted through him suddenly as everyone crowded around him, so he jumped lightly a few times to shake them out. For about the next two hours, he was no longer Jaskier, the first freshman in a long time to get a prominent role. No. He was now Ren McCormack.
The curtains started to open and the lights suddenly shone bright, and on the first note from the band onwards, Jaskier lost himself in his performance.
~~~
They ran straight through the show, with a small five-minute water break in place of a regular intermission. After the show, everyone crowded on the stage together, some sitting and some standing, to listen to the notes and suggestions on what they did well, or what needed to be fixed.
“Good transition in the opening song,” the director, Dr. Linde, read off of her notes, her voice droning on in an almost monotone voice. “Ensemble, some of your costume changes could have been quicker, though. Everyone involved in ‘The Girl Gets Around’, stay after, we need to fix some choreo in that. Overall I need more characterization from the ensemble. Are you a student who is very reluctant? Are you an adult who is considering letting the law drop? The act one finale fell flat because of this. Focus on your character, or create one if you haven’t. And for those of you in ‘Mama Says’, you need to work on that music. It’s almost there, if you can give it a good push next rehearsal.” She finally looked up from her notes, pushing her glasses back up. “Other than that, I’d say it was a rather successful rehearsal, and I stand by my casting choice, no matter what some of you might say.” She frowned at those on stage, accusing without naming names, and then leaned back in her seat. “Any notes from the stage?”
Everyone’s attention was drawn to stage right as June cleared her throat. “I also noted costume changes were a little slow. Just practice taking your clothes on and off, it’s not that hard. If it is, come see me personally and I can assign someone to help you. We had some mishandled props, so I’d like to remind the cast to not touch the prop if you don’t use it. Sticking it down your pants to make a joke when it needs to be on stage is not acceptable. Especially with the roller skates, guys. I’ve already told the stage crew my notes for them so… yeah, I think that’s everything for me.”
“I have a few notes too, if you don’t mind?” the tech director called out from the back of the theater, his voice ringing loud and clear.
“Go ahead, Kris.”
“Can we make positions in ‘Somebody’s Eyes’ more clear? We have limited lights, and they need to be far enough apart that it is obvious there are two separate groups. I’d also like to remind some people that you do have mics, so you don’t need to be so loud. Julian, you, in particular, were really loud.”
He groaned as he looked up to the ceiling. “It’s Jaskier, if you don’t mind. And also, why does it matter? Shouldn’t I be allowed to perform the way I want?”
“Look, Jaskier, I don’t know where you came from, but I’m going to assume you had few microphones for the cast and might have had to rely on hanging mics. Well, I can tell you that it’s different when you have your own mic because it’s only your voice, and that makes everything you do louder.”
“Okay, first off, that was extremely rude, Kristoff. Who are you to say where I came from? Second, I’m the one performing. I understand not screaming at full volume, but singing? If I try and sing quieter, then the quiet parts won’t be as powerful, and the quality will be lower. Do you know anything about singing?”
He sighed. “You’re the one on stage. You’re supposed to listen to the notes I give you. And I think you should be quieter.”
“But I’m also the performer! I know what would be best to act with! I bet there’s at least one improvised scene in every single one of your favorite movies. That means the director liked the change so much, they included it in the final product!” He then noticed all the eyes in the room were on him, with their disappointed expressions and long, drawn-out sighs, and put his hands on his hips. “Oh, I see how it is.” He then looked to the back, spotting a strange silhouette still sitting behind the tech board. “What about you, back there?”
The head of the figure seemed to move to look up, now paying attention.
Jaskier gestured to everyone around him. “Everyone else seems to have an opinion, but you haven’t said a word. Care to enlighten us?”
Quiet ensued, and for a moment, Jaskier almost thought the shadow wasn't going to answer. Then, in a low, gruff voice, he said, “We can turn the mic down.”
Hiding a satisfied smirk, Jaskier said, “Well I guess that settles it, then.”
With a frown, Kris said, “Show up to practice earlier next time then so we can… properly set the microphone volume.”
“Of course.”
Dr. Linde cleared her throat to gain everyone’s attention. “Alright, now that that is settled, anyone I didn’t ask to stay is dismissed. And if I catch anyone saying things about my casting choice again, I will have a sit down with you about respecting your fellow students.”
With the go-ahead, everyone started to leave, filing off of the stage and back into the changing rooms, taking off their costumes and cleaning up before leaving. Jaskier, however, didn’t go home right away. He wasn’t told to stay back, so he technically could have left, but he wanted to thank the man that sided with him. Or at least see his face, since he couldn’t make him out when the lights were on him. So instead, he leaned against the doorframe of one of the auditorium’s exits, watching as the tech crew went over a few cue changes and other small lighting issues they needed to fix.
Finally, the tech director let them go, everyone quickly gathering their things so they could go home, probably to finish homework. Jaskier had some of his own to deal with as well, but that could wait.
He watched as familiar faces passed him by, not one of them the man he was searching for. When the tech director passed, Jaskier received a glare, but he just smiled at him as if nothing was wrong.
With one person left, he figured that must be the one. “Excuse me,” he started, but as soon as the man stepped into the light, his voice faltered. There were not many moments in his life when Jaskier found himself speechless. He can count them on one hand. In fact, people often have to tell him to stop talking.
But this was new. This was a different kind of speechless. This wasn’t the man he had imagined behind that voice, but somehow, it made sense. He had half of his white, stringy hair pulled up in a bun, while the other half fell haphazardly onto his shoulders. His eyes were an unnatural bright orange, and it looked like he forgot to shave his five-o'clock shadow from yesterday’s five-o'clock. The dark, disheveled flannel helped highlight these features. Both of Jaskier’s arms could make up the muscle mass for one of his biceps, and he could probably snap Jaskier in–
“Hmmm?”
Jaskier snapped out of his trance with a blink and said, “I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did back there. I think most people here have strong feelings against me.”
The man looked him up and down quickly, frowning. He was no doubt admiring Jaskier’s almost white slip on vans and his galaxy beanie. “I can’t imagine why.”
“I can’t tell if that was sarcasm or not, so I’m going to take it as a compliment. I’m Jaskier.”
“I know.” He pushed past him, walking out into the hallway and readjusting the bag on his shoulder.
“Wait, don’t I get to know yours?” he called out, but when the man continued walking, Jaskier hurried to follow him. “Can I walk you to your car? The bus? Dorm? Wherever you’re headed to now?”
“Hmmm.”
“I’ll take that as a yes. You know, I’m a theatre major. Had a hard time deciding between that and music performance, but I decided I’d rather perform on a Broadway stage than at a concert in front of thousands of screaming fans. Not that Broadway wouldn’t bring me screaming fans, of course. I’d probably have to find other people to join me anyway if I wanted to be a full-time music artist, and like I said, not many people like me.
“Since I haven’t seen you around before, I’ll assume your major isn’t anything related to theatre. You know, I don’t know what major you strike me as having. A large, muscular man like yourself seems more likely to be in something related to sports, but I do hate stereotyping. Maybe a humanities? Fine arts? Language?”
After pushing the building door open and stepping out into the cool night air, the man said, “Do you ever shut up?”
“No, not really. So what is your major then? Or are you not going to tell me that either? I could probably find your name if I go back and look at the production list of people involved, but your major…”
“It’s MBT,” he said through gritted teeth. “And my name is Geralt. Now fuck off.”
“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated with a nod. “And music business technology? That explains why you’re at the theatre, then. Learning how to work the board.” He continued walking with Geralt, heedless of the not so nice request to leave. “Your hair certainly is an unusual color, though. And your eyes. Do you have magic, perhaps? Or do you just like wearing colored contacts? And the unusual hair color; it’s too white to be bleached, as that usually looks more yellow. Do you dye it all the time? Is that why it looks like it’s dying?”
“Come here,” Geralt said with a jerk of his head, and Jaskier hurried to catch up to his side. As soon as he did, Geralt punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow! Okay, okay, I get it, the hair and eyes are a sensitive topic!” He rubbed the throbbing spot on his arm as Geralt used a key to open the car next to them. “I won’t mention it again. I will, however, not so subtly suggest some conditioners to help–”
With one swift motion, Geralt swung himself into the seat of the old car and pulled the door shut, the resounding thud echoing in the empty street.
“Right. I’ll give you a list later, then?” he called through the window, receiving only a glare in response as Geralt started the engine.
Jaskier watched him back out and drive away before giving himself a satisfied smile. “Well, I think that went rather well.” He adjusted the strap of his bag before walking away, headed towards his dorm, whistling a song to himself as his heart beat rapidly in his chest.