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Nov. 27th, 2006 01:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
knights_say_nihThe stage, dark. A spotlight on Joshua, at the back of the stage. Joshua is a tall, intimidating man, with leather and studs and black eyeliner, looking forbidding, lounging against the back wall.
Ding, lights up, the noise of an elevator arriving at its floor, and Joshua moves from where he was slumped against the wall, making room in the proverbial space as Diane steps in.
He’s nearer the buttons than she, and moves to hover his hand over them, expression asking ‘what floor?’
Diane misses this social cue, reaching for the buttons herself. Both realize at the same time, and drop their hands, embarrassed. An awkward moment, he tries to offer again, but Diane reaches up before he can and jabs a number, then shrinking back to the opposite corner of the space, standing very straight. Both jerk slightly as the elevator starts to rise.
Diane is a diminutive woman, perhaps twenty three years old, of Middle Eastern heritage (but with no trace of an accent, she’s been living in the country all her life, thanks, and she doesn’t know a word of another language, or anything) clutching a chemistry textbook like it might be a weapon, book bag slung over her shoulder.
Joshua, obviously very frightening, mutters a swearword in French (France french, not Quebecois) as the elastic band he’d been trying to pull his hair back with breaks with a snap. Diane jumps, a little, and stares at him. Joshua is unapologetic.
Diane- I don’t think we’ve met.
Joshua- No, but I’ve seen you… around. Of course. You moved in last…
Diane- January. Yes. Um. I’m on floor-
Joshua- Six.
Diane- What?
Joshua- No, I’m. I mean, your button.
Diane looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Joshua gestures at the elevator pad.
Joshua- Just.
Diane- Right.
Joshua- Right.
DING goes the elevator again. Diane steps out and walks out quickly without saying goodbye. One final DING, the doors close, and the stage goes to black.
Ding, lights up, the noise of an elevator arriving at its floor, and Joshua moves from where he was slumped against the wall, making room in the proverbial space as Diane steps in.
He’s nearer the buttons than she, and moves to hover his hand over them, expression asking ‘what floor?’
Diane misses this social cue, reaching for the buttons herself. Both realize at the same time, and drop their hands, embarrassed. An awkward moment, he tries to offer again, but Diane reaches up before he can and jabs a number, then shrinking back to the opposite corner of the space, standing very straight. Both jerk slightly as the elevator starts to rise.
Diane is a diminutive woman, perhaps twenty three years old, of Middle Eastern heritage (but with no trace of an accent, she’s been living in the country all her life, thanks, and she doesn’t know a word of another language, or anything) clutching a chemistry textbook like it might be a weapon, book bag slung over her shoulder.
Joshua, obviously very frightening, mutters a swearword in French (France french, not Quebecois) as the elastic band he’d been trying to pull his hair back with breaks with a snap. Diane jumps, a little, and stares at him. Joshua is unapologetic.
Diane- I don’t think we’ve met.
Joshua- No, but I’ve seen you… around. Of course. You moved in last…
Diane- January. Yes. Um. I’m on floor-
Joshua- Six.
Diane- What?
Joshua- No, I’m. I mean, your button.
Diane looks at him like he’s grown a second head. Joshua gestures at the elevator pad.
Joshua- Just.
Diane- Right.
Joshua- Right.
DING goes the elevator again. Diane steps out and walks out quickly without saying goodbye. One final DING, the doors close, and the stage goes to black.
