Come back stage, she said. Well, all due respect for Katrina's friend, but that is a forbidden zone only reserved for those who are theatrically inclined. Or that's how Katrina feels. And even then it's on an invitation only basis. By the stage managers. But...she doesn't want her friend to ask questions because she really doesn't feel like explaining her hesitation. It's not difficult to say that she's afraid she'll get yelled at she just doesn't want to.

Even so, here she is, carefully picking her way around wires and sets and people in black. The actors have all gone to be congratulated in the school's theatre lobby and all that are left are people who are too difficult to see in the darkness of backstage.

Blond haired, blue eyed Katrina is searching for her friend and can't find her. She'd said something about one side of the stage but Katrina can't remember which one and she doesn't even remember what her friend did during the show.

Two people carrying props pass and look at her briefly. She chooses to interpret it as "get out of our way" and tries to make herself as small as possible while stepping backwards.

Dave came in as a guest stage manager for this show--the original choice got sick and the professor didn't trust any of the inexperienced ones to step in on short notice, and Dave designed the set for the man--and he's busy directing people to put props back where they belong, and putting the set in place for tomorrow's show, and...

"Hey, you."

He's got an armload of props, but he still finds time to notice the completely out of place young lady. The lack of black in her garb gives it away, you see.

"What're you doing back here?"

Notice how she jumps when she hears him? Like she's been caught doing something bad?

"Um, sorry, I was just, uh, looking for a friend of mine, she said it would be okay.."

People in charge make her feel so stupid, why doesn't she just wait outside like a normal person? She has a thing against actors, though, so that might be it.

He shifts the props in his hands.

"Who's your friend? I probably know her."

He probably does, given that he's acting stage manager and therefore interacts with pretty much everyone involved with the show in some way or another.

Thank God he isn't mad at her.

"Sarah Kessinger?"

She's less jumpy now.

Dave gets a rather annoyed expression on his face.

"I think she's gone. Or else she's slacking, because I'm doing her job."

In defence of Sarah, she's probably lost track of time or some such thing, or Dave just got to her job before she did.

"Since you're here..." He dumps half the props in her arms. "Give me a hand."

Damnit, Sarah!

But Dave orders Katrina into action before she can get properly angry at her friend.

"Oh, okay."

She's waiting for him to move so she can follow him because she doesn't feel like asking questions, either.

Dave does tend to be a bit bossy when dealing with his realm of expertise, doesn't he.

He takes her to the prop table where the things in question go, directs her on where to place them, and puts down his own armload.

By this time, as there are several people working, things are not quite as hectic and he surveys the stage with a satisfied sort of air.

"Thanks. I'm Dave, by the way. You are?"

Yeah, but see, things get done that way.

"Katrina, hi." Smile, let's shake hands, "Nice to meet you. Sorry about Sarah, by the way, she does that sometimes."

See, Katrina, the stage is nothing to be afraid of.

"Yeah, I noticed. Go here, huh?"

He doesn't mind making small talk. He's a friendly boy. Don't you think?

"Into theatre?"

Yes. Friendly is good.

"Mhmm. Just started."

Small talk is good, too. There would be a lot of silence in a lot of places if it weren't.

"Not really, I can't stand actors."

"I graduated a couple years back; came in to help out Professor Burke 'cause his stage manager got sick or some shit like that." Shrug. "What're you taking?"

He glances around.

"Actors aren't all bad. 's the ones who get their heads all swelled up that drive me crazy."

She laughs, "I guess those are the only ones I've ever met, then, what can I say?"

Aah, the ever present topic of majors and classes.

"Just general classes. Haven't decided my major yet so I'm getting the basics out of the way. But," and this is a recent thought, "I think I want to get into ancient mythology or something like that." She wants to find out how much truth is actually in the old tales.

In which case Alexander is a great choice for a teacher.

"Yeah? Who're you taking? Wonder if any of 'em are professors I know."

At least one is. That one is actually related to Dave, although in the dim light of backstage, the resemblance is not nearly as visible as it is under other circumstances.

He gave her the idea, actually.

"Um, Moreno, Burger, Barclay and Jones," she ticks her fingers as she names them off, "Then there's Coach. Coach McLarin for rowing. Any names ring a bell?"

"Dr. A. J. Barclay for English?"

He laughs a little.

"That one definitely does. Dr. B. despises me, always has, always will. Only professor I ever failed."

Not that he never came close in other classes, but Alexander's was the only class he ever failed.

"Yeah," her eyebrows go up, but in a good natured way, "Seriously? Wow, sorry. Heh, what'd you do to piss him off?" Not that he'd grade like that but unless Dave was a horrible student, she couldn't see why he wouldn't pass. Professor Barclay wasn't a very hard professor in her experience.

"Called him Dr. B., imitated him outside of class, basically did my level best to drive him insane."

Dave grins.

"It was worth it, too. God, he's hilarious when he's all insulted dignity. Was hell on my average, though. Oh well."

He still has a decent job and a great girlfriend and isn't entirely good for nothing.

Yeah, who needs English anyway?

"Wow, what I would pay to see that," she laughs, remembering something she'd said to her professor, "He's like a robot. I bet it'd be fun to see him flustered."

"Hell yeah."

He folded his arms and looked at her in a very accurate imitation of Alexander and intoned, "Tuckey, your paper was abysmal. Have you any explanation for me?"

Switch back to his normal voice. "Nope, Dr. B. Don't give a fuck, either."

Switch. "Language, Tuckey."

Back again to his normal voice. "It was like that all the time. He hates me."

"Oh my gosh, that was amazing! No wonder he doesn't like you, though, he practically worships English."

The funny part is, though, that she's talking about him so casually. She probably wouldn't talk about her other teachers like that. Not the words, really, but the tone. I dunno. It's something to think about.

"Yeah, I noticed. Either that, or he worships himself." He shrugs and looks around. They seem to be the only two left in here, as most everyone's gone off to rest for another day of classes and then a performance at night.

"How are you doing in his class?"

The lack of people also catches Katrina's eye and she reminds herself to hit Sarah later.

"Good. A lot better after he started helping me. I'm just around average, grades wise."

"Helping you?"

Dave gives her a mildly surprised look.

"What'd you do to get him to do that? Can't be sexual favors, he's gay."

It's a good thing she isn't drinking anything otherwise she'd have spit it all over Dave.

"What? No way, you've got to be kidding!"

That would be bad!

"Well, he's got a boyfriend, anyway."

Dave slants a look at her.

"Sorry to blow your crush out of the water, kiddo."

"Excuse me? What makes you think I have a crush on him?" And even if she does, it's not Dave's right to just out and say it like that.

"And," because she has to know, "How would you know if he has a boyfriend?"

"I met him."

Dave grins at her indignant response and spreads his hand.

"Only 'cause every other girl I've ever known to take his class did. Half of them kept asking me if we were related, and if so, could I talk him into something?" He shakes his head. "Sorry, did I make a bad assumption?"

He's not sorry. He's pretty sure he's right.

Katrina really, really doesn't want to answer that in any way, shape, or form. But, damnit, she has to.

But Dave met him? Call the paramedics because Katrina's heart just did a number on her. She thinks a lot of things about Professor Barclay but gay has never been one of them.

"You might have. Still. S'not your business either way, is it?" she's just a bit disgruntled. She'd rather keep personal things personal. She's not comfortable just telling people things.

Pause.

"Yeah. Not my business. Sorry. Also, I don't recommend asking Dr. B. if he's gay, 'cause if he likes you, it's a damn good way to make him not."

Dave glances at her and smiles apologetically.

"Anyway, you said something about rowing?"

Happy to leave the topic of her professor behind, Katrina smiles about the new one.

"Yeah, I'm on the school's team. We're going to an invitational soon so wish us luck, k?" That was just a side note, by the by. "Yeah, but it's a lot of fun, I really like it." Not to mention it's the greatest way she can think of to get in shape.

Dave chuckles.

"I've never been into that kind of thing. It's always been theatre for me, 's long as I can remember."

He was never any good at acting, but he always wanted to know what happened behind the scenes.

"That's cool," and that's all she can think of to say. A quick glance around the place gives her another thing talk about.

"How heavy are those things?" She's refering to the all the weights in with all the ropes and stuff. She doesn't know what the ropes are for, for that matter, but she's sure that if she could read the labels next to them she would.

"Pretty heavy. They hold up backdrops and shit, which are pretty fucking heavy. C'mere."

He beckons her over and motions for her to feel the weight of the fabric used for the curtains. "And there's weights in the bottom of curtains to keep them hanging straight. Backdrops too."

"Oh wow, cool! So do you have to lift the curtains by hand and all or are there millions of pulleys and levers and things?"

She's out of her previous mood and wants to know things now.

"Pulleys. Most theatres these days have it all mechanized and you just have to push a button, 'less they're dead-hung."

Dave is perfectly willing to answer all of her questions.

"Dead hung, what's that mean?"

Well that's good, because if he keeps talking in theatre lingo she's going to keep having them.

"Dead hung means that you've got all your curtains and shit hung at a preset height and can't change 'em. It's pretty annoying when you've got a show that changes locations a lot, 'cause you have to change the set instead of the backdrop."

"Ew, I bet that sucks." It sounded like it did. "Why would anyone do that? It sounds like such a pain."

Dave shrugs.

"It's cheaper, doesn't take as much building material. Lots of theatres are built that way. I prefer the ones that aren't dead-hung, and most people I know are the same way, but it's all a matter of what you're working with."