Evening at the Show

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys scratched furiously at the irritating itch that had come hand in hand with the pair of decidedly stupid trousers that Rhys had been forced to wear that night. It was ridiciolous. When asked what they were contributing to the war effort, most soldiers would reply that they were on the battlefield day and night, fighting for their countries. Rhys, meanwhile, would have to opt for the slightly less glamorous answer of impersonating Charlie Chaplin.

Apparently, morale was sinking low amongst the troops. They were gloomy, apparently and so the Lieteunant had decided that the best way forward was to put on a show for the men. Rhys had done a bit of stage-acting back in Britain and so had signed up immediately with the hope of recieving a sophisticated lead. But no. He was Charlie bloody Chaplin. On the other hand, there were many other men who had it worse than him and Rhys didn't envy Corporal Harper who had been forced to contribute to the traditional drag show. He was clad head to toe in a vile, orange dress and high heels, with comically applied lipstick to match.

The Staff Sergeant had only just returned from the stage after a suprisingly warm reception and had felt strangely proud. However, inevitably, the sense of pride had soon been replaced by an extreme annoyance at the itchiness of his costume. Rhys grunted with annoyance and ripped the make-shift moustache from his upper lip, wincing as he did so. He took a seat next to the mildly shell-shocked Harper and downed a near-stagnant glass of water. He grimaced.

The self-proclaimed director of the show, a certain Captain Marlon spoke up.

"I say, Bevan," he said in a voice so snooty that Rhys wanted to kick him in the unmentionables. "I say! Put your moustache on at once, sir, you're on again in five minutes!"

Rhys suddenly realised that he was right and groaned loudly, cupping his head in his hands.

"How I love backstage parties," he muttered darkly.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan was now regretting having volunteered to help run things backstage, one of the few days in a year he could sit back and enjoy the show, and he was helping put the sun of a gun on. He rolled his eyes a bit, but it wasn't all bad, Least I don't have to get up on stage like, well like that guy he thought as he looked a young soldier that seemed to be in misery as well, aside from the sting of ripping off his fake mustache. Wonder what kind of hair that REALLY is? it ran through as a smile crawled onto his face.

He waited for the officer to shut his mouth that seemed to have possibly never given a good order in it's existence. "You know what that is made out of don't you?" he said as he stepped toward the young man, looking at his watch and yelling over his shoulder "Get ready girls!" he paused as he watched them jump from being startled, he was going to enjoy this as much as he could, and was the close friend of a good bartender that made some strong drinks that well...tasted like juice. McMillan was looking forward to one of them accompanying him there. He sat on the bench for the brief moment that he could as his attention mostly turned back to the guy.

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys looked up at the shout from the scarily well-built Sergeamt before him and sighed. Great, this was all he needed. A conversation with an American.

"You know what that is made out of don't you?" he grinned heartily. Rhys disregarded the newcomer's comment but began to feel a tad uneasy. The American took a seat next to him and Rhys decided that he may as well be civil. Plus he was mildly afraid of the hulking Sergeant who was presently flirting with a couple of girls nearby. The simple fact was that Americans loved anything in a skirt. They'd go down a storm in Scotland, Rhys told himself with a grin.

"Rhys Bevan," he said, holding out a hand. "You're umm...you're Brentwood's right hand man, aren't you? McDonalds, was it? What are you doing here because if I'm honest you don't look like you'd make a particularly good drag act!"

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

OOC: nice "punch" don't blame you one bit since you know what is coming and BTW McMillan is Irish

He reached for the man's hand and shook it with a firm grip, Yeah, Brentwood is a fine leader, and it's McMillan actually." he said with sincerity. "Sorry for not star..." he paused as one of the (actual) girls dropped her pocket book and kindly bent over to pick it up "...ting off with and introduction, yep, it's McMillan."he said as he cleared his throat. "Really? the skirt isn't a good look for me?" he said in a joking manner "HA!" he let out as he he looked over Come on come on come on!!!" he half way shouted motioning to the girls to hurry up. "No, I'm back here to help keep things running smoothly, is all." he looked up and pulled a clipboard down. "Rhys huh...that was you? Not a bad job out there just now. What is you next bit?"

He smiled as he reverted back to his original point "Well that hair looks about like mine oddly, you would think they could get the right color, but on short notice and all, guess they just couldn't pull it off." McMillan watched as the girls walked up the short flight of stairs onto the stage and hit bit his lip a bit. "Course you don't see any bald spots on my head do ya?" he didn't want to come right out and say it, the guy probably already knew what was coming, and McMillan had just met him for the first time. But it seemed as if this Rhys guy wasn't a big fan of anything but dry humor.

[Nathan Whyte]

Nathan took a bow to the crowd and stepped behind the curtain. He quickly grabbed a waiting glass of water and held the fretboard of his guitar hard to the side as he sculled back the liquid, ambrosia it seemed to his parched throat. He reached behind his back and lifted the strap of his guitar over his head and placing it into the metal stand. He wiped the sweat from his head onto his sleeve and an attendant came running over. "They want an encore, Nathan."
"Tell them to get fucked!"

Nathan collapsed into the wooden chairs and looked into the face of Mcmillan. He followed the eyes to the lovely female he was watching and smiled at him. "Good fun in court earlier? Don't bother looking at her, she's seeping in my bed tonight. Probably no point Rhys looking, I hear she likes it when guys are complete..." He realised his pick was still in his hand and he slipped it into his sweat-stained front pocket. "What's with the gerbil, Rhys? he asked, gesturing towards his upper lip.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan was almost taken back by the display of emotion the young man had displayed. It was all in good fun, but if you want to go sit with a man, your business, dressed like a woman oddly enough. Even though McMillan was helping organize this show, he didn't know of any drag queen segment in the production. He shrugged a bit and looked to the musician. "Might as well play an encore, the girls love it and it looks as if Mr. Pubes over there isn't in the mood to get back out there." McMillan said as he wrote a bit on his clipboard about having to change things up. "Just wait until the girls come off, might as well enjoy the view while you can, course I guess I could let you have one, I do have to get up early to pack, can't handle them all." he said with a smile and a wink.

He stood up and looked at the guitar, he knew enough to not grab it. "Been playing long?" he asked as he looked up. "Oh wait, this is the best part, watch." he almost stared in awe as the girls did what they do best, or at least what was best in his eyes. Then he looked back at the man with his eyebrows raised, seriously interested in his talent.

[Rhys Bevan]

Rhys rose to his feet and checked his wristwatch. It was gone 12 PM and he could feel tiredness ebbing away at him. He rubbed his wary eyes and took a seat next to Nathan and McMillan.

"I didn't know you played," he noted, nodding towards the acoustic guitar at the New Zealander's side. "I told you one day you'd discover some sort of talent!"

He grinned and clapped the kiwi around the back. Nathan was a good man; a tad arrogant perhaps but still a reasonably nice guy. There was worse company to be had, he gussed but he wasn't so sure about McMillan. He was known as "Mad" Edward McMillan amongst the men or so Rhys had heard. Nevertheless, he was willing to give the bulky Sergeant a chance.

Rhys groaned. His new choice of companion seemed to be engaging in what could only be described as peeping. Very respectful. He was beginning to understand why the Suffragette movement had wanted the vote!

[Nathan Whyte]

OOC: I swear I posted this last night.....

Nathan gently placed his hand on the mahogany neck of his guitar, warm memories rushing through him. After completing basic training, it had been a present from his family in the innocent pre-war times. It had been dragged halfway across the world with no end on new strings being attatched. Nathan smiled as he looked at the wood and saw a picture of his family materalise within his mind.

"I've been playing what fo.... nearly four years now. Have either of you ever considered picking it up?" Nathan settled back into his seat and resumed the watching game. He eagerly nudged Mcmillan and pointed to the right. Nathan turned his head in the opposite direction and shook his head breifly at Rhys behind Edwards back. "So has your drive dropped now you're only half a man? You don't quite seem as keen as normal tonight."

He reached for another glass of water, accidently brushing the rear end of a passing female. He gave Edward a wolfish smile as the girl winked at him. Nathan rose to his feet and picked up his guitar, the ultimate chat up tool and followed the lady over.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

McMillan glanced at his watch, "Man when is this thing going to end? You would think I would know, but I don't." he said half smiling, it was almost time to hit the pub and he was loosening up a bit already. He felt a nudge and looked over to where Nathan had pointed, almost curiously as he saw the tail end of an over ruffled dress disappear behind a small curtain. He shrugged and forgot about it.

"An instrument? Me? No, I don't have any talent in that area. Thought of it? Yeah, but never seemed to find the time or the discipline to pull it off, mainly focused on surviving for the time being." His gaze dropped momentarily as he thought back, but a loud crash messed all that up. He jumped to his feet and looked over his left shoulder as he noticed the majority of a drum set had collapsed..on someone...someone wearing some sort of animal costume, one with a lot of fur actually. He stepped over quickly and lifted the pair of snares off to noticed the over sized and over animated head of a bear. "Odd, don't remember any skits calling for that." He looked back at Nathan and then pointed to his clipboard and motioned for him to bring it on over, he was curious as to what all this was about.

[Nathan Whyte]

A crack filled the room and Nathan took a step backwards, his face glowing. The guitar almost dropped to the floor, but a quick hand saved the wooden instrument the destruction. He walked over towards Mcmillan, picking up the clipboard on the way past, he cast an eye over the sheet and noted that there was only half an hour of the show left. He levelled his eyes with Mcmillan and was sure a smile was forming, or possibly a question. "Don't ask," he replied gruffly, "Let's just say it's a good job she's dating a Private, not somebody higher."

He looked around the room and broke into an unbelievbaly large smile as a trio of men walked into the room, all dressed in black and white with white paint on their faces - mimes. "Hey, Frenchy!" he called over to them. Simultaneously, all three gave the Flight Sergeant a two-fingered salute and he shook his head dismissively, pulling the gesture back at them. "I'm going to make tracks, Ed, I've got an early start tomorrow, no, wait, today. Enjoy the rest of the show."

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post

Closed by request.

The following CP has been issued:

McMillan - 6CP ( I had one more post than the two of you is the only reason.

Bevan - 5CP

Knight - 5CP