[ So, this is a ballet production and consequently, Ed definitely wouldn't be here under normal circumstances, except Izzy's run afoul with the director because of course he fucking well has and now, someone's gotta put their foot down. Ed, of course. It's always Ed. In any case, he resolved the issue within the first five minutes of visiting the stage, re-organising a few of the lights to account for the altered choreography, last-minute, which is why Izzy wouldn't hear of it. It changes their entire fucking lightning plot but so long as everyone's on board with that, Ed doesn't see the issue. Weird hill to die on, in his opinion. Their people are here to work, not lounge about in the wings.
Unlike Ed, who's definitely just hanging out at this point but.
Ballet is so fucking pretty.
He's currently standing in the wings, watching as the rehearsal moves on to act three and trying not to get in the way of anyone. Years of experience helps in that; also, dressed as he is in leather and black, he sticks out like a sore thumb. And everyone's so goddamn limber, they squeeze around him like they're some sort of fucking liquid and Ed's the only solid thing in the whole theatre. Tiny, flexible, god-like people, ballet dancers. Or butterfly-like, maybe, if you wanna get more naturalistic about it, whatever.
So, uh. He doesn't expect it when someone nearly crashes into him. He stumbles backwards half a step out of reflex, the other - a man, oh, the one who dances Armand, isn't it, fuck, he's amazing - grabbing his shoulder briefly before apologising. Ed's eyebrows go up, about to tell him that it really was his fault for trespassing where he doesn't even go, but then, the man asks him about the lights and his gaze flits to the scene, instead. ]
Oh. Uh, yeah, it's looking great. [ He waves his hand at the back wall which is currently being lowered into place. A pretty thing, very soft and subtle. ] Long as you stick to the script and don't fall off the deep end in the back, I think we've got you covered.
[ Said with half a smile. Man's definitely a pro, from what Ed's seen. He's not gonna go anywhere he isn't meant to. ]
no subject
Unlike Ed, who's definitely just hanging out at this point but.
Ballet is so fucking pretty.
He's currently standing in the wings, watching as the rehearsal moves on to act three and trying not to get in the way of anyone. Years of experience helps in that; also, dressed as he is in leather and black, he sticks out like a sore thumb. And everyone's so goddamn limber, they squeeze around him like they're some sort of fucking liquid and Ed's the only solid thing in the whole theatre. Tiny, flexible, god-like people, ballet dancers. Or butterfly-like, maybe, if you wanna get more naturalistic about it, whatever.
So, uh. He doesn't expect it when someone nearly crashes into him. He stumbles backwards half a step out of reflex, the other - a man, oh, the one who dances Armand, isn't it, fuck, he's amazing - grabbing his shoulder briefly before apologising. Ed's eyebrows go up, about to tell him that it really was his fault for trespassing where he doesn't even go, but then, the man asks him about the lights and his gaze flits to the scene, instead. ]
Oh. Uh, yeah, it's looking great. [ He waves his hand at the back wall which is currently being lowered into place. A pretty thing, very soft and subtle. ] Long as you stick to the script and don't fall off the deep end in the back, I think we've got you covered.
[ Said with half a smile. Man's definitely a pro, from what Ed's seen. He's not gonna go anywhere he isn't meant to. ]