Chapter Text
Neil counts out $9.39 plus tax and leaves it on the counter, picking up his sausage rolls. He passes one to his friend, Eden, and says "Thanks," but the barista is talking to one of their coworkers. Out of habit more than anything else, he stops by the door on his way out to look at the posters.
"That's certainly quite a proposition," Eden says. Ze is pointing to a rather poorly designed piece of paper with large words in a pink-purple-blue gradient. "I wonder how much cash."
"Wanted: Date for a traditional family wedding. Man whose existence irritates the church preferred. Can pay in cash. Contact [email protected] for more information," he reads. "Well, we're men whose existences irritate the church. And we need cash. We should both apply and if one of us gets it, we split it."
"No way," ze open the café door for him. "If I get it, I'm keeping the money. All of it."
"Greedy," he punches hir on the shoulder as they walk down the street. "I would share the money with you. Just so you know."
"I wouldn't share any with you because you'd find a way to 'borrow' it off me anyway," Eden punches him back. "Don't protest. You know I'm right."
"Just because you're right, doesn't mean you should say it," Neil says. "We should totally apply for it. I mean it."
"What, you weren't serious before?" ze asks. "We are going to apply, and one of us is going to get it."
"It's going to be me," he says, then takes off running before ze can punch him again.
"You bastard!" ze yells after him, breaking into a chase. "Get back here. It's going to be me, and you know it!"
"Watch where you're going," someone says, jumping out of their way. They slow down a bit.
"I'm still right," Neil whispers, after the stranger is well out of earshot. "I'm cooler, and if it comes to it, I'm manlier."
"Like hell you're manlier," Eden protests. "Which one of us knows how to use a barbecue?"
"That's cheating. It's not barbecuing that makes a man, it's having the force of a raging typhoon."
"Keep telling yourself that," ze pats him on the back as ze opens the back door to the theatre. "Look at that. We arrived on time for once."
"Vivian will be proud," he says, just as she comes running down the hallway.
"Oh good, you're here." Vivian comes to a stop just centimetres away from Eden. "Go get ready."
In the dressing room, Neil starts drafting an email.
To whom it may concern,
My name is Daniel "Neil" Collins (he/him), and I am writing to inquire about the details of the job you advertised in the Elegy Bee Tea Queue Café. I am a man and my existence irritates the church, so I believe I am perfectly qualified for this job. When and where would this job be taking place, and how much does it pay?
Thank you very much,
Daniel "Neil" Collins, he/him
It's not the best job application he's ever written, but it'll have to do. He hits send and turns his phone off just as Vivian pokes her head in the door.
"Shakedown in five," she says, and vanishes again.
"It never gets less nervewracking, does it?" Michael asks, throwing his scarf around his neck. "We're two-thirds of the way through the run of the show and I'm still nervous."
"That's just Vivian," Neil jokes, then bends down to look under the counter. "Where's my hoodie?"
"Where you left it, Froggy," Patrick hands it to him with one hand, securing his hat with the other.
"Thanks," Neil takes it from him and stands by the door, watching as everyone does up the last few buttons of their coats.
"Let's go," Michael says, swinging his camera through the air as he opens the door. "It's shakedown time."
Neil is of the opinion that the shakedown is one of the most fun parts about theatre. The circle gets larger and larger as more people arrive. Predictably, nobody finished getting changed on time. Vivian steps into the centre of the circle, and begins the shakedown.
By the time it's done, Neil feels ready to take on the world. Chattering dies down as they head to their places backstage. The lights go down. Vivian reads the pre-show announcement. The lights start fading back in, and people stream onto the stage.
It's showtime.
"Did you email yet?" Eden asks, when the last of the audience members have gone home, voice still ragged from singing. "I meant to email before the show, but Anna started talking to me and I forgot."
"I emailed," Neil says. "Let me grab my phone. It's been almost three hours. They might have written back by now." He ducks into the dressing room, grabs his phone, and hangs his hoodie up where Patrick found it earlier.
"Did they reply?" Eden asks. "Also, tell me what you said. I want to make sure my application is better."
"That's not fair," he complains, but shows hir anyway. "Oh, look. There we go." Surely enough, a reply has come in.
Hello Neil,
My name is Arden Rogers (ey/em), and I am the one who posted the date. If you could prepare a sampling of the ways your existence irritates the church, I will be having an audition on Monday at the Elegy Bee Tea Queue Café. I hope to see you there.
Thank you very much,
Arden Rogers, ey/em
"Look at that," Eden says. "It's barely longer than yours."
"Which proves that mine was a good length," Neil says.
"The only thing it proves is that both of you are lazy when it comes to email writing. Now buzz off, I need to write the email to end all emails." Eden sits in the middle of the hall outside the dressing room and pulls out hir phone.
"See you," Neil waves goodbye and turns to leave. Eden makes a noise which can be assumed to mean 'goodbye'.