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Behind the scenes at Desperatemusic.

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[Jan. 22nd, 2008|09:06 am]
Behind the scenes at Desperatemusic.

dm_score

[tyriangalley]
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[Current Mood |tiredtired]
[Current Music |'Bride's Lament' - The Drowsy Chaperone]

So, I promised Meg we'd post the log of bohemian silliness. And no, it's not the bohos you're thinking of.



Marcello: *so, is -- here. And confused. :)*
Rodolfo: *is coming out of a cabin, looking very much like he's had a good sleep* *and pauses* Marcello? My dear Marcello!
Marcello: *blink* --Rodolfo! What's going on?
Rodolfo: I don't know, but I promise it's the most wonderful thing! *and this is a Manly Hug*
Marcello: *of course this is a Manly Hug back, even if it is a little bemused* --Is it really?
Rodolfo: Yes! No rent to pay, heat, a real place to sleep, food! I ate myself sick already. *is a delighted Rodolfo*
Marcello: Food? Heat? *grins* I think I like it already.
Rodolfo: And the people here are just as reputable.
Marcello: Well, I don't doubt it, but where -is- here? What happened to the loft?
Rodolfo: Marcello, I've told you I don't know. *might be annoyed that Marcello isn't as excited about this*
Marcello: I know, I know. But -- Paris can't just disappear in a blink!
Rodolfo: Who /cares/ Marcello?
Marcello: Well, -I- do!
Marcello: What about Colline, and Schaunard?
Marcello: Are we to leave them to starve?
Rodolfo: They're the ones who fed us. No doubt without us they'll eat better.
Marcello: Well, I suppose that's true.
Marcello: *doubtful Marcello is doubtful*
Rodolfo: ... Ah, but of course I know why you're being so foolish. *teasing smile* What will become of dear Musetta, you wonder.
Marcello: Oh, don't speak to me of her, Rodolfo!
Rodolfo: What it must be like, to love so much you hate.
Marcello: I cannot bear it. I cannot bear -her-.
Rodolfo: Poor Marcello! *over dramatic* Caught up in a love he cannot bear, while his friends remain loveless. Who has it better, Rodolfo asks.
Marcello: *studies him for a moment, unsure if he's being made fun of* At least my friends do not have to see her, everywhere they go.
Rodolfo: You choose to see her.
Marcello: I do not, Rodolfo, I swear!
Rodolfo: We are artists, Marcello, it's our profession to choose what we see.
Marcello: *sighs and runs a hand through his hair* At least I shall not see her here, then.
Rodolfo: *goes to say he /might/, but, more important things* There is a man here who is so much like our Colline, you know.
Marcello: *headtilts* Really? A philosopher as well?
Rodolfo: Yes! And they have rent problems as well, and are bohemians!
Marcello: *laughs* Then it appears we are in good company, my Rodolfo.
Rodolfo: And you should meet Mark! So much like you, Marcello, an artist in his own way. He makes /moving pictures/.
Marcello: ...*blinks* Moving pictures?
Rodolfo: Yes. They're fascinating.
Marcello: *laughs* Have we landed in the future, then?
Rodolfo: I'm sure we must have. Come, you must see the kitchen. *takes his hand to lead him to the only he place he knows how to get to*
Marcello: *follows, because FOOD*
Rodolfo: There can be no better place than here. *opens the door to the kitchen* I'm still not sure of much in here.
Marcello: As long as there is something to eat, my friend, I'm pleased.
Rodolfo: *pulls him to the fridge and opens it, then tosses him an apple*
Marcello: *catches! and munches* This is wonderful!
Rodolfo: There is so much more! Fresh bread with milk and cheese, roasts and fish, and /desserts/.
Marcello: I think I'm going to enjoy this place.
Rodolfo: *gets himself some bread and cheese now, because, HE CAN :D*
Marcello: *finishes his apple and flops in a chair*
Rodolfo: We are the luckiest men in Paris, my Marcello.
Marcello: *laughs* No longer in Paris, Rodolfo!
Rodolfo: Truth, so we are the luckiest Parisians then.
Marcello: *gets up to get some bread* Mmhm, indeed! I'd bet there's canvas, too, and paper and ink and paints somewhere!
Rodolfo: ... There must be. Mark told me of a closet that holds everything.
Marcello: ...It must be a very large closet.
Rodolfo: Let us look! I am out of papers myself. *takes the bread and cheese with him to the closet*
Marcello: *follows, nibbling on his bread*
Rodolfo: *opens the closet hesitantly, not sure what to expect*
Marcello: *pokes his hand in and pulls out a paintbrush* --Oh! Well, there's the first.
Rodolfo: *just watches, because he doesn't want to put down his food :\*
Marcello: Oh come, Rodolfo. No one is going to steal your bread.
Rodolfo: You might. I know how hungry men can be.
Marcello: I have my own, you ridiculous poet.
Rodolfo: I will not take chances. *grins*
Marcello: *eyerolls and munches on his bread, then sets it on a table* Now for canvas.
Rodolfo: *finishes off his bread and cheese then hunts for paper and pens*
Rodolfo: *and is triumphant!* *hello dead PM*
Marcello: *has found canvas too! :D*
Rodolfo: How fortunate we are!
Marcello: This truly is paradise on a ship.
Rodolfo: If Colline and Schaunard were here, I'd propose a dance.
Marcello: Who says we cannot dance without them?
Rodolfo: Well, I'm not making the music,
Marcello: We can sing.
Rodolfo: Correction, you can sing. *puts down his things and bows a bit* Shall we waltz?
Marcello: *bows in return* But of course, my Rodolfo.
Rodolfo: *laughs and takes his hand, then puts a hand on his waist, grinning*
Marcello: *so -- sings! Possibly Les Champs-Elysees, because his typist is a dork*
Rodolfo: *and dances! over dramatically, of course*
Marcello: *well then! dancing and attempting to sing, which doesn't work all that well*
Rodolfo: *amused* Clearly you are not a man of many talents. *spins him*
Marcello: *spins!* Let's see you dance and sing, then!
Rodolfo: I know where my limits lie.
Marcello: Oh, come, you'd be a fine singer.
Rodolfo: There is a reason I chose writing as a profession.
Marcello: Well, at least you have a way with words.
Rodolfo: If it weren't for the lack of wealth, I'd have been the smoothest man in Paris.
Marcello: Lucky you!
Rodolfo: Surely by now you're sick of my words.
Marcello: *laughs* I, my Rodolfo? Never.
Rodolfo: You like them when they go up in flames.
Marcello: Ah, but you did too.
Rodolfo: It was the wittiest play I've had the pleasure of knowing.
Marcello: And it kept us warm as well, so there's another good review for it.
Rodolfo: As long as my Marcello was pleased. *teasing grin*
Marcello: Oh, terribly! I may swoon just thinking of it.
Rodolfo: Then it is a good thing I'm holding you!
Marcello: Indeed. *laughs* I shall obviously never swoon with you about, my Rodolfo.
Rodolfo: Where is Rodolfo without his Marcello?
Marcello: I'm not sure, but I would be on the floor.
Rodolfo: And no doubt I'd be in a mess of laughter.
Marcello: Oh, some friend you are!
Rodolfo: The best there is. *another spin*
Marcello: *spins, laughing* Yes, yes, I know.
Rodolfo: What a fine dancer you are.
Marcello: Such flattery! I really may swoon.
Rodolfo: It would do wonders for my ego.
Marcello: *fakes a swoon, then? :D*
Rodolfo: *laughs and catches him, turning into a dip which isn't a waltz move but stfu*
Rodolfo: Perhaps given our new position, we should advance from our waltz into a tango.
Marcello: *opens an eye and grins up at him* I don't know any tangos, so there will be no accompaniment.
Rodolfo: I don't know how to tango, so I won't complain.
Marcello: ...We can pretend?
Rodolfo: I had every intention to.
Marcello: Alright!
Rodolfo: *pulls him up and strikes a fierce!pose* Shall we?
Marcello: *hides a laugh at the fierce!pose* But of course!
Rodolfo: *pretend tango!*
Marcello: *yay! laughing* This is ridiculous.
Rodolfo: At least it's only us.
Marcello: True. Aren't you meant to have a rose in your teeth?
Rodolfo: Of course, the artist misses the details. *stops and looks about for a rose*
Marcello: Well, if you want to be that way, I would be in a ridiculous skirt. And a woman.
Rodolfo: Beggars cannot be choosers. *locates a rose, because, hey, magic closet, and puts it between his teeth* Better?
Marcello: Much, thank you. *attempts a curtsey, and doesn't actually fall over!*
Rodolfo: *laughs and gets back into fierce!pose Tango stance*
Marcello: *places a hand on his shoulder and offers his other hand*
Rodolfo: *takes it and dances*
Marcello: *WOO TANGOING*
Rodolfo: Anyone trained in dance would scorn us.
Marcello: Or perhaps they'd give us free lessons if we asked nicely.
Rodolfo: Here, free is a possibility.
Marcello: More than that, we haven't paid for a thing since I've arrived!
Rodolfo: It is worth the dancing.
Marcello: Certainly.
Rodolfo: And it's terribly hard to talk around this rose.
Marcello: Must be thorny, too. *laughs*
Rodolfo: My Marcello! Would you laugh at my pain?
Marcello: Oh, of course not, my Rodolfo.
Rodolfo: And if I should prick my tongue with a thorn, what would you do?
Marcello: *amused look* Perhaps I would kiss it well again. Perhaps not.
Rodolfo: Don't tease, Marcello, I am a fragile thing.
Marcello: Well then, perhaps I would bandage it.
Rodolfo: How awkward!
Marcello: It would have to be a very small bandage, of course.
Rodolfo: In which case, I'll take care around these thorns.
Marcello: Good.
Rodolfo: Yes, I believe so.
Marcello: Tangoing is rather exhausting.
Marcello: *pauses to lean on him*
Rodolfo: You ever full of good ideas. *runs a hand through his hair which has probably gone slightly sweaty, then curses and spits out the rose*
Marcello: What is it?
Rodolfo: Apparently taking care is a recipe for disaster. *touches a finger to his tongue*
Marcello: *concerned look* Oh! I -- I am sorry, it was my idea, after all.
Rodolfo: I've suffered worse in my life, Marcello.
Marcello: I know, but -- I'm sorry, just the same.
Rodolfo: *nudges his shoulder* Don't be a fool.
Marcello: *laughs a little* I am always a fool. You know that.
Rodolfo: *Manly Hug* I have grown fond of it.
Marcello: *Manly Hug back!* Well, thank you.
Rodolfo: *laughs then touches his tongue again* Tell me, does it bleed?
Marcello: *stands on tiptoe to peer at his tongue* I -- can't tell.
Rodolfo: *sticks it out a bit* Hmm?
Marcello: *laughs and peers closer* It might. You look quite the fool.
Rodolfo: What a pair, us two then. I look the fool and you act it.
Marcello: *pokes at his shoulder* Now, then. A bandage or a kiss, my Rodolfo?
Rodolfo: You would have me choose as I suffer? *laughs*
Marcello: Yes, I would. *srsface*
Rodolfo: It is too much to take, this thinking through the pain.
Marcello: Well, a bandage would hardly help the pain, and it would soon come off, so -- *stretches to give him a light kiss, laughing*
Rodolfo: *laughs as well, but may be blushing slightly* You are so good to me.
Marcello: *theatrical bow* I try.
Rodolfo: You succeed.
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