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cracking_mirror in wetheinvincible

LA - Walking Around

You couldn't say he was doing anything other than wandering. He'd pop into the occasional bookshop, and he'd gone through three different Starbucks at various points, but he didn't have any specific aim really. His time in LA up till then had been show after show, which was great since he'd been getting rave reviews for the new show... but all the performing had taken it's toll on his brain and thus: day off.

He's got a pair of shades on, since this is LA, but they're perched on top of his head because it was a little dark for him to see well with them (and he's from NY).

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"I almost got an arrow through my head," he says absently, sipping at his latte.

"How is that, incidentally?"

He points to the crispawhatever.
"It's good. Like a very thin and tasty slice of pizza."
He peers at it for a moment before sipping on his latte again.

"It's not really pizza unless it's coming out of New York or straight from Italy."

...yes. He's not being fair at all to the cuisine of the rest of the country.
She rolls her eyes.

"It's not as if Chicago has good pizza or anything."
"Nope," he says, "They have Sicilian. It's square."
"What's wrong with Sicilian pizza?"
"Nothing!" he admits airily before shaking his head and sipping his coffee. "Except that I don't like it. But there's nothing wrong with it, certainly."
"There has to be something wrong with it if you don't like it."
He shakes his head.

"Don't like the crust. And I find something intrinsically wrong with eating something that's a square. Don't ask me why. It just bothers me."
"Didn't you know it's hip to be square?"

Bad-dum-ch!
He snorts.

"Didn't you know it's square to be hip?"
"Well, if you eat enough of those Sicilian squares they'll go straight to your hips!"

She'll be here all week, folks.
He shudders and shakes his head.

"Ouch. Just ouch."

But he's laughing.
"I think I ought to consider changing careers. My ex-husband always thought I was wasting my time 'choreographing pop culture,' as he said."
He rolls his eyes.

"I hope it's not to comedianne."
"I think I can do it! Anyway it'd be a creative way to get groceries."
He snorts.

"They taste better when they're not flying at your head. Trust me."
"Really? I've had such a craving for squashed squash...but honestly, I think I rather do want to get out of the business of choreographing pop culture."
He shrugs.

"If you wanna be a roadie, I've got an opening."

And he braces for a thwap with a grin.
No thwap.

"No, I was thinking about acting again."
He quirks his lips.

"You could. It's not a bad idea, just... not too steady. And of course, there's the matter of you having any talent. Do you?"
Dryly. "I have a resume."
"That's," he says, pointing at her with a grin, "not an answer."
Los Angeles: The Beach

December 2006

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