The play's the thing

[plaguedrat]

"In brief, to set the needless process by, how I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd. How he refell'd me, and how I replied...Damn...that's..."

Rat sighs and adjusts his posture in the mirror, trying to capture Isabella's conflict, her desperation, her guilt. He hates admitting it, the idea that after only two months he might be settling by looking for work. But a proud soul often means an empty stomach and he's nothing if not practical. There are few jobs that he's suited to perform and equally few he's willing to submit to without being desperate.

So he stands in front of a mirror, wearing a thrifted dress that he's pinned to flatter and diguise his figure. A little makeup, expertly applied, and he's transformed into Eve again.

Comments

[silenttrainbaby]

But he's not a woman. Grey knows this. He doesn't know what plays are, though, beyond the words. So, if they are performed, people read it in a different way?

Meowing indignantly, the cat works to escape the sling, finally jumping to the floor.

Stepping closer, Grey touches Rat's face again. Is this because women have this coloring on their faces?

[plaguedrat]

"It helps make the illusion more convincing," Rat explains. "Give me a second and I'll clean it off."

[silenttrainbaby]

Wait - Grey's hand keeps Rat in place and he steps closer. He thinks Rat is beautiful in his own way without the color. But the painting makes his eyes look bigger, his cheeks more pronounced, his mouth... Grey stares at his mouth.

[plaguedrat]

Rat tilts his head sideways, letting Grey observe him. Despite the layers of makeup, he feels stripped bare to have someone looking at him like this.

[silenttrainbaby]

It doesn't occur to Grey to think that this is strange. He's fascinated, dragging his thumb along Rat's lower lip. That someone can look so different is entirely new.

[plaguedrat]

The gesture smears the color across his jaw under Grey's thumb. He can feel it press to his skin.

[silenttrainbaby]

It's on Grey's thumb too. He smells it and it smells vaguely, artificially sweet. Then he turns back to Rat's face. The fingers curl around his jaw.

[plaguedrat]

He laughs, leaning into Grey's hand. "In Shakespeare's day, all the roles were played by men and boys. For me, it was because they didn't have enough actresses."

[silenttrainbaby]

Impulsively, Grey reaches for the thrown-aside dress and he holds it out.

Will Rat put it back on, play for him? So that Grey can see and understand?

[plaguedrat]

"Hm?" he doesn't quite understand what Grey is requesting. If he wants Rat to wear it or the act.

[silenttrainbaby]

Gesturing with the dress, Grey points with his cast to the sofa. He'll sit, yes? And Grey will do what he was doing before he got here? He'll act?

[plaguedrat]

"Oh, keep acting?" Rat says. He nods, pulling the dress over his head and readjusting his posture, transforming again.

"You have to use your imagination a little, since there's no stage." Already, his voice is lighter, softer.

[silenttrainbaby]

Quickly and smoothly, Grey moves to the sofa and pulls his knees to his chest to rest his chin there. The cat joins him and Grey watches, eyes wide and intent.

[plaguedrat]

Rat nods and clears his throat and settles back into himself, but also into someone different.

"In brief, to set the needless process by, how I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, how he refell'd me, and how I replied,—For this was of much length,—the vile conclusion I now begin with grief and shame to utter--"

[silenttrainbaby]

Oh. It's unlike anything Grey has ever seen. He's rapt. Rat's voice like this is lyrical in a different way, his gestures different. It makes his chest feel tight.

[plaguedrat]

It's always been the joy of acting. Of becoming someone else and trying to channel their pain and struggles and then of making the audience believe it too.

"He would not, but by gift of my chaste body to his concupiscible intemperate lust, release my brother; and, after much debatement my sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, and I did yield to him: but the next morn betimes, his purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant for my poor brother's head."

As a heartbroken Isabella, he falls to his knees.

[silenttrainbaby]

It causes Grey to lunge forward, so caught up that he doesn't know he shouldn't. Is Rat - or who he is - all right?

[plaguedrat]

Rat smiles and catches Grey in his arms, dropping out of character, "Don't worry. Just acting."

[silenttrainbaby]

Touching Rat's face again, Grey takes a deep breath. If he's the judge, he'd say that Rat is very good. Poor Isabella and his brother.

What happens next, though? He sits back, expression apologetic for not knowing what to do.

[plaguedrat]

"The play is called Measure for Measure," Rat explains. He goes over to pick up the book of plays. "I was actually in the middle of it."

[silenttrainbaby]

Soon, perhaps, Rat will tell Grey what happens in this play. He watches the way Rat moves.

Soon, when he has his cast off, hie'll be smoother again, too, not so clumsy and klutzy (or how it feels anyway). He reaches out his hand.

[plaguedrat]

Rat strokes Grey's face, soothing at him a little. "It's one of his less famous plays, Measure for Measure."

[silenttrainbaby]

Leaning into the touch, Grey nods. Not that that means anything to him. He touches Rat's mouth again. He likes to hear him talk; it doesn't matter what, really. He just likes to hear him talk.

[plaguedrat]

He understands that, he thinks. The sound and companionship. It helps him too, though he doesn't think to say it.

"Measure for Measure? Or do you want to read something else?"

[silenttrainbaby]

It could be the dwarves and Hobbits again, or this. They have three different stories going, it seems.

Grey shrugs, letting Rat choose.