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Feb 08, 2007 09:17

Will Shakespeare had disappeared from the Times office recently, which was a pity, really. As terribly absurd as it had been, there had been something heartening about having the famous poet frustratedly punching away at whatever he had been writing whilst Anthony had been trying to come up with something marginally interesting to say about the ( Read more... )

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a_lowly_player February 11 2007, 15:56:01 UTC
"Please, call me Will," he said without drawing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. These computer things really were addicting with how easy it made composing and editing a work.

It was a beautiful thing, really, a new play, and something that Shakespeare was rather proud of. Ha. Stopped really writing in 1604, he'd show them all. Bloody books and their nonsense. Especially all that rot about Kit writing his plays. If that scoundrel ever showed his face...

Well Will would likely kiss him full on the mouth and ask where the hell he'd been for so long, but he could be cross now while Kit was off being dead and burried.

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alittleofboth February 11 2007, 20:53:55 UTC
"Will, then," Anthony corrected with a cool smile. And though there wasn't a flicker of his features, there was a sort of thrill at being on a first name basis with one of the greatest poets of all time.

"I was surprised that you had disappeared from your desk," he began. Oh, Anthony had heard rumors about bickering between Shakespeare and his editor, but he did his best to stay out of the personal business of others. Much less messy.

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a_lowly_player February 11 2007, 21:02:00 UTC
"It would seem best that for the time being Mister De Worde and I not occupy small quarters such as the place my desk is housed at," he said smoothly. With a flourish he finished his stanza and smiled at the words in front of him. "Beautiful."

"Now," he said, finally looking up at Anthony. "What can I do for you, sir?"

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alittleofboth February 11 2007, 21:28:20 UTC
Personal troubles indeed. Anthony arched an eyebrow, but did not bother commenting.

"I was curious about your new play," he told the poet, leaning slightly against the edge of the table. "And was wondering if you might not entirely object to having someone write something about it for the paper. I promise it will have only passing relation to de Worde."

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. Regards

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