milliways_bar | (no subject)

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At a table in the middle of the bar is a man with a guitar. Staff paper and regular paper are piled around him, as he scribbles madly at them. He's wearing a suit, somewhat badly fitting, and humming to himself.

Perhaps you should ask him what's up. Especially if you know him. Mark Cohen doesn't have his camera.

[ooc: Do I have to keep saying it? Mark has Rocks In. Let me know if you want the music bug, otherwise, tag away.]

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And wouldn't ya know it, here's a carl

Unlike his compatriot he has a HAT. It is a very NICE hat, the kind of hat one would see on a BROADWAY PRODUCER.

"Top o' the evenin' laddybuck." he doffs it in a very silly manner. Then, of course seeing what Mark is doing, he pauses "

Mark, unfortunately, is not yet a Producer, alas, so he cannot yet wear a HAT. He is, however, sporting a grin. "" He holds up two or three songs, and a bunch of plot scribbles.

It is a setting of Twelfth Night, in the 1920's, around New York City. The place where the title should be has been scribbled out many times, still as yet untitled.

Carl, in a fit of Grabs for them.

"...This is BRILLIANT." He's grinning,

And there's a bit of genuine carl as he slaps Mark on the back, "This really is good stuff kid. You've got Talent."

He reads over it again.

Mark flails a bit, perhaps a bit of genuine Mark. But only a bit.

He chews on the end of the pencil. "" He rummages around in the papers, and finally comes up with one, with Christine's name and not much else. Oops.

"There are stories kid." Carl grins, "I could tell you one about Jack, a buddy of mine and a few pages of script. We sailed out to an island that-"

Carl shudders, suddenly faced with true terror again and skull island and-

"Story for another time." he shrugs, then grabbing the card outta Mark's hands,

Soemthing kicks at the back of Mark's mind... somthing that he should remember.

He pauses, then nods. ""

A brisk nod from Carl,

There's a monkey somewhere.

Carl blinked, then shook his head,

"" It's obvious that someone's on Mark's mind.

Carl's thinking.

Deep. Deep thoughts.

Carl said, putting a fatherly hand on Mark's shoulder,

"" Mark blinks.

He grins, "You would play sebastian then. You're just the right size for the costumes I've procured."

"" He's grinning, though.

Carl scribbles something down on a list,

"" At -everything- she does. If Mark's a bit blushy at the mention of Maureen, well, it's just the temperature in the room, really.

Just leave it to Me Preston, I'll find us a girl

There's a big of a shaky look on Carl's face but it's gone like that, with a snap of the fingers, "

"" Or she will, when Mark gets done with her. "" He rummages in a pocket and pulls out about six inches of 16mm film, showing Maureen on stage singing. It's from The Protest, if you really want to know. ""

"Put that away! You don't want it to get overexposed or-"

There's a bit of Carl back in there as he examines the film, almost...lovingly?

He taps his finger on the film for a moment.

"Oh, it's already developed. It's alright. Hell, I've had this bit of film for years. She does really have lovely eyes, doesn't she?"

He grins at the film, a bit lovingly, then shrugs. ""

Carl's thinking, "I've got a Duke Orisino, some fella who says he's a hundred years old or more-and a great stately woman to play Maria..and you found our oliva. Now all we need is a motley crew of comedians."

"" Mark grins. ""

Carl waves a hand,

"" Mark grins. It's not as if she doesn't live in the Loft now. Well, mostly live there.

He shrugs,

Carl salutes and walks back to his table, awaiting more...

The music swirling.

Well, luckily or unluckily this one has the bug as well.
There's a wizard also humming to himself some.
At times, he sang a few phrases.
""

Mark looks up and blinks. ""

Draco smiled, and strolled over. This didn't seem out of the ordinary, though it was a bit more cat-like, and held hints of a seductive strut in his walk.

"As it so happens, yes. "

"" He waves expansively at the papers around him. "

Draco smiled, "How interesting, though what's Broadway?" Wizarding world decidedly lacks in the theater department apparently.

Mark blinks. "

" Sounds wonderful. And you said singing, which means singers of course. That's why you asked?" Draco remarked.

Mark grins. ""

Draco smiled at that, "I think I would. What is this musical about?" A chance, an opportunity to To command them. He could make them worship him if he gave a worthy enough performance.

"" Mark hands him a summary of Twelfth Night, scribbled hastily on the back of half of a song. It's comprehensive, but a bit illegible.

Draco looked it over. Interesting, very interesting indeed. Actually he did know of the play. The one allowance in the Malfoy Manor was some of the better pieces of literature in the muggle world. Shakespeare of course was one of them.

"Good. I know this play, the original version of course though, but interesting set-up. Which parts are you looking for now?"

Because the mun is putting this before the Carl thread....

"

Draco nodded, "What does he look like? I'll keep an eye out for him then."

Briefly in the back of his mind, he wondered at the interest, the friendlieness with muggles. Yes, of course. That's what mattered. The music.

"He's a shortish man, kinda pudgy, a bit older than me." Mark shrugs. "I think he might even have a sign about casting for the musical."

"Then, I think I'll go do that. Best of luck with your efforts regardless of whether we work together or not." Draco then got up, and swept away, the cape flaring out behind him dramatically. He walked away, softly singing to himself again.

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