no_sin_but | (no subject)

"And I would be a poor guest indeed if I had made you."

"You'll like Vanya better."

Darren approves of Russian theatre. They're all delightfully passionate people.

"What is it about?"

"An old man, who marries a beautiful woman the same age as his daughter. A young doctor who comes to care for the old man and loves the wife. The doctor loved by the daughter. The brother of the old man, he loves the wife too."

It's beautiful.

"She's a poisonous bitch. The poor girl."

"Sounds perfectly delightful."

"It's Chekhov, so it's character driven stuff. Light on the action heavy on the interaction. But he's..."

Darren gestures. One of the best.

"One of the best," he supplies.

"Insightful."

Call it that.

Darren pushes the door back open, and heads back out into the decadent hallway.

"I shall read more of him, when I get back."

He still can't get over this hallway.

Darren both loves and hates it.

"Lets go down to the main street. It's always good for some poking about and a laugh or two."

"I'm in your hands," he says with a grin and a spreading of his own. It's easy, falling back into the habits of an actor.

"Excellent," says Darren, and they're out through the glass doors and bounding down the sweeping steps, leading to the theatre.

"It's good to be back."

The street outside is what passes for quaint in Ontario. Park to one side and flower beds, and all kinds of little 'Earthwinds' and 'Buffy's' type jewlery stores of nouveau ageness tucked in between fashion outlets for women over the age of forty five and kitchen shops. Tourist town.

It's...clean.

So very, very clean.

"I need to stop here," says Darren, directing them into a little shop called The Green Room. Full of oddities and top hats and fedoras and basically all the clothes Darren wears.

He has to pick up a scarf, like the one he gave Puck. He nabs one similar, but with more grey and red in it.

How...odd.

Even if he does think that he likes the hats.

Darren also picks up a pair of kid gloves and tries them on, then replaces them with a frown. Too uncomfortable.

A girl nearby puts on a tophat, and her friends around her burst into giggles. Darren gives them a look. Pfft. Teenagers. They're almost as bad as the young company.

"Have you heard of anything you particularly want to see?"

"I have been catching up on science, not...not the theatre, or even the modern world. So, no."

"I'll take you to the Bazaar," he announces, "and the bookstore, and Quirks and Quarks."

Those are the three shops on the main street he's actually interested in.

"Bookstore?"

He pretty much heard one word in that.

"Bookstore," says Darren, and it's teasing, like talking to small children and magpies.

"As soon as I pay for the scarf." Which he accomplishes in short order.

"By all means. You have too much memorability to be a thief."

"And I will never be subtle, either."

The girl behind the counter makes eyes at them. Darren gives her a 'haven't you learned yet?' look.

"Though the old 'is that a scarf in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?' line is always fun."

That turns his half-smile into a smirk, and he is still enough of the old, lively and rakish Marlowe for that expression to make the girl blush slightly.

"Stop seducing the cashiers," mutters Darren, completely loud enough for her he to hear and that makes her blush a lot worse. Heh.

She drops his change into his hand with a stammer, and he makes for the door, winding the scarf around his neck as he goes without bothering with a bag.

"At once," Marlowe tosses her a grin before following Darren out the door.

"And what in God's name is Quirks and Quarks when it visits its mother?"