milliways_bar | (no subject)

*Meg grins at him.* . . . yes, and?

*Xander shakes his head.* Nothing but gimmicks. Sheep, dead guys ... what happened to art?

We had that, too, *Meg informs him snootily.* Don't you go insulting our dancing.

Well, you know, you didn't say anything about it. I'm just checking. I'm sure it was great, and that no one tripped over the sheep.

*Meg looks defensive.*

Well. I didn't. Maybe some of the other ballerinas did.

*Xander resists the urge to pat Meg on the head.*

I know, I know.

... What was that opera even about?

Oh.

Well, see, there was this Countess, having an affair, *Meg explains cheerfully,* so she disguised her boyfriend as a girl so that her husband wouldn't find out - only actually the boyfriend was played by a girl, I never quite got that - and then the husband had a thing for the boy-dressed-as-a-girl, and it was just basically chaos.

*Xander grimaces.* Ah, veiled homoeroticism. Always a favorite in the literature of yore. Why haven't I seen this opera already? And when did the chandelier fall?

Well, really halfway through, but in the movie -

*Meg doubletakes.* Hang on, you've seen the play?

*He shakes his head.* No, but there probably isn't anyone in the western hemisphere who hasn't heard about the chandelier. It's getting to be a bit of a Phantom shtick.

Oh. *Meg looks rather disappointed.* Well, it was very impressive when it actually happened for real, I should tell you.

*Xander nods.* Must have been. I mean, hey, you guys didn't know that you weren't going to die. I bet the sheep went nuts.

Oh, goodness yes, *Meg agrees, rolling her eyes.* And also? You know that voice, when he talked to Christine in her dressing room? You could hear it all the bloody way through the Opera House - none of us ever got any sleep, because Christine's bloody stalker couldn't leave her notes like a normal person.

*Xander nods sagely.* Right. A normal stalker.

They're not uncommon, *Meg protests.*

Neither are venereal diseases.

Well, no . . .

*Meg looks rather uncomfortable.*

*Xander raises an eyebrow.*

*Meg shrugs whatever it was off.* Venereal diseases are awfully common in my time especially, I have to admit.

Well, George Washington DID get syphillis. Bad example, then.

Uh ... telemarketers are common. Doesn't make them acceptable. Or human, necessarily.

. . . telemarketers?

*Meg is blankly inquisitive.*

Oh, right. 1883. Are there telephones yet?

Telegraphs, *Meg offers helpfully.*

Okay. Well, in the future, everyone will have telegraphs in their homes. Modern telegraphs. And people will be able to call you on them and try to sell you things that you don't want at all hours of the day. You will try to stop them. You will fail.

*Meg looks aghast.*

- that sounds like hell. Are you sure you didn't die already, like when you were a baby, and go there? And that's where you've been living all this time?