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“I think Adam only cast me because I’m an actual dentist. His dentist, in fact,” Jim said, staring forlornly at his dinner plate.
“He cast yeh ‘cause you auditioned, yeh lug,” Beelze pointed their fork at their husband. “Wha’cha expect?”
“I only auditioned because you were excited to make the killer plant puppets.”
“Aaud-beeeee tuuuuuuuu!” A small toddler with dark mop of unruly hair scream-sang from her highchair.
“Yes, sweetheart. Audrey II,” Jim smiled at his young daughter. “I thought it would be nice to work on something together. I thought I’d just be an ensemble part.”
“You hammed it up during that audition! O’ course, the kid was gonna cast you. Plus Orin is a great part. Love a good villain,” Beelze smirked as they took a bite with an extravagant chomp. Then they threw a wink and a kiss at Jim.
“You did the pageant plays in primary. And you do enjoy dressing up and putting on a show,” Aziraphale teased his older brother from across the table.
“Oh—you could always channel yeh twin for inspiration! The bastard!”
Aziraphale and Jim hadn’t spoken to their eldest brother (by 5 minutes in Jim’s case) for the last several years. He stopped coming home for Christmas, refused the invitation to Jim and Beelze’s wedding, and no one even knew if he knew he had a niece.
Jim glared at his spouse for a beat, but then shrugged with a smirk. “Gabriel is a bastard…”
Aziraphale chuckled under his breath. There was a reason Jim was his favorite brother—despite their differences at time.
He was confident in Jim’s abilities to perform as Orin—just as he was confident in Adam’s abilities as a director.
“Little Shop of Horrors” was a delightful show but a bit of an undertaking—especially for the new theatre’s first show. Adam and his team (friends) had always talked about starting their own theatre troupe. Right now all they had was a building (newly renovated with a stage) and their small staff (themselves and the Shadwells as building management). But starting with community performances by community members was a good way to drum up funds, gain recognition, and practice their craft.
Aziraphale was also pleased because it meant he could use his performance skills again. He’d missed his drama club days from school. While he briefly lived in London, he sought out small parts or volunteered at places where he knew people. He attended lots of plays and performances. But now being back in Tadfield—well, his options were a bit limited.
A sudden glob of mashed carrots landing beside him pulled the young man from his thoughts.
“Oh Dagny, sweetheart. Don’t throw food at Uncle Azi. He has his own carrots,” Jim cooed at his toddler as he redirected her spoon back towards her plate.
“Eh, let the little hell-spawn express herself.” Beelze waved her knife in a nonchalant gesture. “Artist at work.”
Jim sighed at his spouse’s lackadaisical response to parenting at the dinner table, but the smile on his face was one of complete adoration. He went back to helping little Dagny use her spoon to get the mashed carrots into her mouth—instead of her new painting canvas: her hair.
“Besides,” Beelze continued with a mouth full of food, “it’s not like Azi has experience working in a plant shop. He’s got a black thumb.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Leave it to his sibling-in-law to point out one of his weaknesses so boldly—despite how truthful it was. He did have the worse luck with plants.
Jim gave up and let his daughter paint herself with the orange mess. He turned back towards the other adults at the table, “Yeah but Azi does work in a shop—”
“A book shop—”
“And he’s got acting experience. Loads more than me!”
“And that’s why he’s Seymour, yeh lug!”
Aziraphale bit his lip to keep from either snickering or groaning at the family theatrics playing out.
Dinner and a show…