Ari ♫ ♪ ♬ (gracenotes) wrote in emillion, @ 2014-04-13 16:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, !log, !plot: founders festival, arielle chiaro, miles baines |
I'm your biggest fan, I'll follow you until you love me
Who: Ari & Miles
What: Lunch is interrupted by scavenger hunters!
Where: The Theatre District
When: This afternoon!
Rating: PG (also, ridiculous)
Status: Complete!
“You look very nice in my sunglasses,” Ari commented as they stood in line at a particularly popular food cart. The smell of roasting meat and spices implied that the wait was worth it, and after all, they needed fuel before their big performance, didn’t they? Ari had taken to one of her favored disguises -- loose pants and tunic, hair bundled up in a hat with a floppy brim, and most who didn’t look at her face would assume a boy ten years her junior and not an actress attempting to hide. She had surrendered her enormous round sunshades to Miles some time ago, but as long as she kept her gaze down, the hat did well enough. They looked a little ridiculous, of course, but that was part of the charm: looking as exaggeratedly not Baines-and-Chiaro as they could. Miles peered out at the world from behind the oversized sunglasses, his own hair carefully tucked under a newsies cap, a scarf wound around his neck despite the spring warmth. “I am pulling them off, aren’t I?” he asked with a grin, though he looked like a whimsical aesthete. They shuffled a little further in the line, waiting for their turn at the shawarma cart. Miles’ stomach grumbled and rumbled to itself, and he could practically feel his mouth watering. The anonymity was comforting in more ways than one: like it or not, there was an agreeableness to dropping his own identity for a bit, vacating himself of Miles Baines’ troubles. “We might set some records, though,” Miles said, “for speediest meal wolfed down on-the-go.” This line was taking longer than expected; he hadn’t quite calculated on the crowds. “You look better in them than I ever did; I am suitably jealous,” Ari said graciously. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely true -- she was quite fetching in the glasses -- but all actors liked having their egos stroked. “I hear this place is worth the wait,” she said. “And the vendor will be gone by Tuesday -- if we rush a bit to get into make-up, no one will ever know we --” “Arielle Chiaro?” Oh no. “You are Arielle Chiaro!” the woman behind them said, her voice pitched loud enough that half of the people surrounding them could surely hear her. “You look so different in person. I thought you’d be…” she trailed off, clearly uncertain how to express her shock at (no doubt) Ari’s bland and boyish appearance. Beside her, Miles winced and seemed to slouch even lower, trying to escape the inevitable notice that would turn towards Ari’s companion. “If you could please keep your voice down,” Ari said, keeping her own low and as soothing as possible, “I’ll sign anything you like once I’ve ordered my food.” The buzz of excited chatter had already started to spread around them, however, like ripples in a pond: the word of the lead actors’ presence spread down the line and started to draw the attention of other erstwhile hunters. It was the last thing he wanted: they’d spent the past day and a half neatly dodging their fans, doing their very best to impede others’ scavenger hunt progress. Alas, all good things must come to an end. “And that’s Miles with her! Miles Baines! I loved you in Godot!” Without looking behind them, Miles quickly paid for both their meals once they reached the front, hurriedly pressing the gil into the vendor’s hands. The moment they were armed with their shawarmas, the crowd descended: slips of paper and playbills and scavenger checklists being waved in their faces. To be able to say that he’d done his part, Miles balanced his shawarma in one hand and scrawled his looping signature across a couple slips of paper with the other, accepting the first marker that someone pressed into his palm. Then, teeth gritting, he hissed into Ari’s ear, “Escape. Time to escape. Would Hide work in this crowd?” Ari, for her part, was also smiling in a rather strained manner. She signed one paper, took the second as she muttered, “They’d just step on us.” Sometimes -- not very often, but sometimes -- she envied the ninjas their skillset. She passed the second paper back, leaning near Miles as she did so, and said softly, “I think we run.” The crowd was only growing, but they both knew this district well; she jerked her head almost imperceptibly towards a nearby alleyway, then, clutching her lunch to her chest (she was not going hungry after this), she reached for a third paper before feinting in the opposite direction, whirling on her heel and taking off for the alleyway. At least boys’ clothes made running easier, though she did lose her hat, her hair spilling out as she sprinted around a corner, trusting Miles would follow. He leapt into movement behind her, marker clattering on the cobblestones and paper fluttering in his wake (along with a few disappointed cries), though his own precious lunch was gripped with similar urgency. Give me shawarma or give me death, he thought, and laughed as they sped their way towards freedom: actors thick as thieves taking the alleyway-and-rooftop approach back to the theatre, betraying a slight hallmark of their true nature as they disappeared from pursuit. When finally they found themselves at the stage door, free of followers at last, Ari leaned back against the wall and gave in to breathless laughter. “You would think --” she gasped, “-- we were visiting royalty!” Honestly, had she ever experienced anything so ridiculous? She still had a paper clutched in one hand -- oh dear, too bad for that scavenger hunter. Well, some casualties must be expected in such circumstances… “Actually, thought,” she said, thinking, waste not, want not, “you could sign one more before we go in -- for me. Since you were so very spectacular in Godot.” She fluttered her lashes at him as she held out the paper. “I’ll buy you a drink at the afterparty.” “Why, Ariele, I never knew you were such a hound for a mere five thousand gil,” Miles said, arching an eyebrow—but it was obviously a lie. He’d planned and worked for months to steal similar sums, and she knew it. “It’s not for the money,” she said with a laugh. “Just for the game.” “Ah, then who am I to stand in the way of a game?” He unwrapped the shawarma and took a voracious bite, already starting to inhale his food even as he signed Ari’s slip of paper, with extra flourish. |