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Shaking the water from his hair, Michael scowled. He never wanted to be here. He didn't care. It was raining, and he was standing outside the car as his wife Lindsay smiled gently. "If it gets too unbearable, call me and I might drive over here. " Michael rolled his eyes, pecking his Feline hybrid on the lips and jogging inside. He walked into the class- first day. First day would be easy, right? He was handed a paper, and his eyes went wide.
"Are you fucking serious?" The russet haired man stated, eyes wide at the paper. His russet ears flattened in rage. "What the fuck are we supposed to do with this shit?! And who the hell is James?" A cough sounded behind him, and Michael turned around. He let out a bleep of fear, looking up at the taller man.
At least a few years older then him, the blonde god was at least a good foot taller then him. His icey eyes stared down at him, the pupils slits. "You called?" He asked, voice basically rumbling in the floor that Michael stood on.
"You're James Haywood?" He held up the paper with the three dreaded instructions on it, eyes narrowing. James nodded, "Call me Ryan." His massive wings laying on his back shifted, the russet and chestnut feathers laid out like a cape. He caught Michael's staring, and he opened a wing casually. "Vulture hybrid. Ram, I assume?" Michael gave a feeble nod.
"Did you read what we had to do?" Michael nodded again, sitting down. Ryan sat down next to him, and with a few adjustments of his wings, was sitting comfortably. Michael read over the three improvs over and over, mouth forming down into a frown.
"Rapunzel, hm?" Ryan muttered. He slipped on his glasses, reading over the words a few more times. "I can be the King's son, if you want." Michael gave a nod, and then froze when it was time to preform. Ryan stood with a frown, while Michael crumpled up the paper and threw it down.
"This is bullshit. Absolute bull." He muttered as they were led onto the mini stage. He never signed up for this improv class. His wife, Lindsay, bought him this for an anniversary present. Yes, he wanted to be an actor, but he didn't want to do an improv class to "heighten his skills". The lights dimmed, and the instructor- a short, annoying duck hybrid, told them to start the performance.
"Dr. Jones! You are late to the surgery!" Ryan said, and Michael looked down at Ryan. Ryan was the patient, and Michael was apparently the doctor. Michael threw on a smug grin, and sat down an invisible coffee.
"Sorry, man. Got sidetracked when playing Destiny. I have a raid to do in less then an hour, so, I gotta do this quick." Ryan's eyes widened, and Michael put on his invisible gloves.
"No anesthetic?!" Michael rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a baby. It's only going to hurt a little bit. The quicker we go, the quicker we can get this over with, yeah?" With a few yells from Ryan, and a few laughs from Michael, the "heart was out".
"There! We are finished!" Michael took off his invisi-gloves. "I have a new heart?" Ryan looked up, as if looking at the hole in his chest. Michael faked an empty, blank face. "What? I'm supposed to replace your heart? I thought I just had to take it out!" The time was up, and Ryan yelled "Scene!" hoarsely. He scrambled up, and him and Michael did a bow.
Michael growled suddenly, glaring at Ryan. "She fucking loves you, asshole! Don't you see the love in her eyes when she looks at you? Doesn't she know that she is in love with you, rather then with that prick that keeps following her around?!"
"Jealousy, listen to me. That's not it. She is married to him. She obviously loves him." Ryan stated, crossing his arms over his chest. Michael shook his head, stamping his foot.
"You lie! She deserves to be with us! She deserves to be walking down the isle with me, rather then with him!" Michael screeched, shoving his hands at Ryan's chest. He stopped a millimeter before Ryan's chest- Stage fighting. Ryan stumbled back, eyes wide.
"Jel, don't do this! Don't get rage get a hold of you!" He pleaded, and Michael growled, slamming a "fist" into Ryan's jaw. He fell to the ground, coughing. Michael put a boot on Ryan's chest, leaning in close.
"My name is Rage, Reason. She will be my bride, and I will marry her. And there's nothing you can do." He walked off stage, ears laid back and hand in a form of holding a gun. "Scene!" Michael called, and he rushed back to the already standing Ryan.
Michael sat down on one of the risen parts of the stage, taking his damp hair and pulling on it. The curly, russet locks turned long and straight. He took off his glasses and sat them down beside him. "Scene Three: Rapunzel."
Ryan smoothed his feathers along his back like a cape, making the feathers rise that were spotted along his hair. They looked like a cape and a crown, fitting his king persona. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your hair!" He called, going down on one knee and looking up at Michael.
Cocking an eyebrow, Michael rolled his eyes. "Whatever." The crowd gave little laughs, and Michael scowled at them, looking back at Ryan, who was looking out at the crowd.
"I thought y'all said this was going to work!" Ah. He was going for a 'break in the fourth wall' type of thing. Michael glared at Ryan. "Why do I need to come down and care for you?"
"Well, fair maiden, I am Prince Greenhorn, next in line for the throne of Emocha-" Michael lept down from the risers, eyes narrowing. Ryan looked over to the crowd, grinning. "She's down! It worked!"
Michael got right up into his face, growling. "I am a man, you insolent fool! Just because someone's name is 'Rapunzel', it doesn't mean that they are a gir- mmph!" Ryan had locked his lips into his, and then pulled back suddenly.
"You don't think I expected that?" He said lowly. "Scene!" They both called, turning around and bowing. The little group clapped and cheered, and Michael gave a small smile. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.