Part 3: the pilot
Pub. Specifically, a booth in the Shakespeare's Head in Holborn. In which seven actors are trying to get to know each other before rehearsals start. They've just come from the first read-through of the pilot, and now it's time to actually talk to each other properly, since the read-through was the first time most of them had met. Well, aside from Ross and Simon, who'd had to audition together and do chemistry tests, and Drew and Angel, who live together.
Angel and Isabella come back with the drinks. "Okay, weird ale of the month, other weird ale of the month, G'n'T, two Budweisers and one pear and one apple Kopparberg." Angel says, passing them out.
"Also half a tonne of Mini Cheddars." Isabella says, removing two packets from where they're clamped in her teeth.
"What are they?" Ross asks, taking one of the bags and opening it dubiously.
"Cheddar-flavoured biscuits." Mei says, dipping her hand in and taking three. "Stuff of the gods, I'm telling you." She proceeds to stuff them in her mouth.
"Okay, if you insist..." He says, taking one and trying it. "Oh. Hey. these are really good. Si, you have to try them." He says, shoving them at Simon.
"Okay, everyone raise their glass once Mei has stopped trying to consume half her body weight in Mini Cheddars before anyone else gets to them." Gavin says. "Here's hoping we don't fuck it up and that it gets greenlit."
"Don't fuck it up." Everyone choruses, clinking their glasses together and drinking.
"Speaking of Mei." Gavin says. "You doing a sort of English-ish accent is really fucking weird. You're usually so bloody Welsh."
Mei smirks aroudn her pint. "I work with the gifts god gave me."
"And you're really half-Tibetan?" Simon asks.
"Da went over on a study trip and brought Mam back with him." Mei shrugs. "She promptly joined the paramedic course as soon as I could sit up." She grins. "Was nice when the casting call came up, I must say."
"Well, i'm being Spanish again but this time with a New York accent." Isabella shrugs. "Just hoping it's decently convincing. I've had to do one in plays before but not for an American audience."
"Trust me, it's fine." Ross reassures her. He grins. "Nice that they took notice of where Angie was from and didn't just make it generic American." He frowns. "Though is anyone else going to find it weird saying Angel and Angie? Won't you get confused?"
Angel shakes her head. "Nah, because people who persist in calling me Angie get eviscerated. It's Angel or Angelina."
"Well, aside from Maggie Smith. She called you Angie for three days and you didn't correct her." Drew points out.
"It was Maggie Smith!" Angel protests. "She could call me anything she bloody liked and I wouldn't have minded!"
"Also on that list:" Drew says, counting off on his fingers. "Ian McKellen, Derek Jacobi, and Judi Dench. If they've got a knighthood you're theirs."
"Yeah..." Angel says dreamily.
"Anyway." Drew says, after clicking his fingers in front of Angel's face to snap her out of it. "Anyone seen their costuming notes yet?"
"You're just smug because you get to wear a suit and t-shirt the whole time." Isabella says. "Same for Angel. What do you reckon, vest or t-shirt, shirt, skinny jeans and boots, change it for period appropriate, right?"
"Yeah. I saw a couple of sketches and they're going with the all white look to keep it consistent." Drew says. "I'll miss the union jack t-shirts but get why they're doing it."
"Whereas *I* am going to be in a slightly modified sports bra and leggings." Mei smirks. "Ah, complete comfort in one's costume. Happy days."
"We who don't have to wear anything that makes us look stupid pity you." Drew smirks at the other four, then turns to Angel and Mei. "Just think, end of the day's filming, we can escape to the pub and no-one'll know any different."
Isabella narows her eyes. "I hate you. Just so you know."
"My only problem is that they're almost certainly going to stick me in Primark." Angel mutters. "I hate Primark. It's like descending into the depths of hell."
"How do you know?" Drew asks.
Angel snorts. "Come off it. Plain white, labelless, as utilarian as possible? They'll be going for cheapest. You, on the other hand... Costumers love suits, they'll be sticking you in as high-class a one as they can get away with and then elasticise the bits they need to. So there you'll be, swanning around in Armani while I'm stuck in Primark." She huffs. "Even Mei's going to be getting Nike at the very least."
Mei grins, sipping more of her pint. "I'm holding out for Sweaty Betty."
Ross scratches the back of his head. "I'm holding out for the full leather, personally. With stretchy bits so I can move. It wouldn't be proper Midnighter if it wasn't."
Drew eyes him. "Have you ever performed in full leather?"
"No, but it'll look cool."
Drew makes a face. "I have, and I wasn't even moving that much. Every night, sweaty stinking mess. I don't recommend it." He pauses. "Though you're right, it'll look cool." He turns to face Simon. "Unlike certain people..."
Both Drew and Ross smirk. "Lycra."
Simon shrugs. "From what Ross has told me, it'll be a travesty if I don't get my shirt ripped off each ep, so lycra's not too bad overall."
Isabella sighs. "I've seen the sketches. I'm definitely in lycra. They'll be adding effects, and I've got a headdress that's essentially wire and LED dreads, but it'll be lycra for ease. and CGI for when it grows on me." She turns to Simon. "However, it looks like you're safe. Adapted rugby tops and sports gear with possible combat trousers to make it look a bit more like a soldier."
Ross pouts. "I was looking forward to the lycra."
Gavin grins. "All those who suspect Ross was looking forward to perving..." All the brits raise their hands. "Whereas I will be in a glorious mishmash of hippy and whatever they can raid from Oxfam. I'm angling for some really horrendous tiedye or the loudest batik I can find."
"You are not allowed tiedye." Mei says. "I have sensibilities. Delicate ones."
"I've seen you at the Comedy awards, missus. You have no sensibilities." Gavin replies.
"Rugby and fashion. Also pretty, pretty fast cars." Mei says, counting them off on her fingers.
"Fast cars? Really?" Simon asks, opening a new pack of mini cheddars.
"Top Gear is porn." She sighs happily. "Happy, happy porn. Though we need to gag Jeremy Clarkson as a given."
"So that bit in Iron Man where the car got crushed..." Simon starts.
Mei glares. "Snuff should not be allowed where children can see it."
Simon pauses. "Perving does think what I think it means, right?"
"Leering, appreciating in a pervy way, etc, etc." isabella says dismissively. "If you find Ross staring at your arse, he's perving."
"I call it 'getting into character'." Ross sniffs.
"You do remember Apollo and Midnighter are in the old married couple league, right?" Drew asks.
"Just because they are does not mean they don't have an extremely fulfilling sex life." Ross sniffs. "I cite Firefly."
"Point." Drew says. "Superheroes are essentially naked, and society being what it is, they expect naked people to be having sex all the time."
Ross grins and points at him. "You're quoting. You're fucking quoting. We need to see your penis for journalistic purposes."
"Filthy ass-is-tants...." Drew sing-songs, delightedly. "You've got Lazarus Churchyard, right?"
"I have Hellstorm." Ross says smugly.
"Want. Wannnnnnnt." Drew pouts.
Next to Drew, Angel is groaning. "Oh god. Of all the actors in all the world. How is this my life?"
Isabella gives her a concerned glance. "What's wrong?"
"Warren. Ellis. Fanboys. This shoot is going to be nothing but quotage." She raises her head in despair. "Simon, run away now. It's the only way to save yourself."
Simon glances at where Ross and Drew are now just giggling. "My roommate as a freshman was a Trekkie. Can't be that bad."
Angel glowers, taking a swig of her G'n'T. "Trekkies don't have filthy language as an auto. Trust me. You'll learn. Also, Trekkies don't necessarily feel the need to share."
"So. Anyway." Isabella says. "Has anyone else does green screen? I did a bit in Dr Who, but it's going to be a whole lot in this one - the windows in the ship just for starters..."
"No, none." Mei shakes her head, sipping from her Kopparberg idly, one eye on the excited squeaking from the Drew and Ross corner. Then her head whips round. "Hang on. What do you mean, Dr Who?"
"I did an episode last series as the manager of a hotel." Isabella says. "I thought you knew."
"No I did not." Mei says, glaring at her. "It's not enough that you're an RSC alumni, you've done Dr Who? Right, that's it, I'm now going to sulk."
Isabella protests, grinning "Hey, it's not my fault, I'm just lucky."
"Lucky? Lucky? That is not lucky, that is jammy git, you muppet." Mei sulks.
"Oh, it's like that, is it?" Isabella says, then sticks out her tongue. "In that case: Nah-nah-nah-nah."
Angel leans her chin on her hand. "Now you're just rubbing it in. Please stop that in public, it's getting close to torment."
"I have pictures on set. With Matt Smith." Isabella continues.
Mei puts her hands over her ears. "Stop that!"
"And I've met Steven Moffat." She continues. Mei whimpers.
Simon's looking bemused. "Okay, I've seen a bit of Dr Who, it's kind of funny...?"
Gavin pats him on the shoulder. "We'll teach you about it properly some time. Essentially, biggest show in the UK, and most actors would kill to be on it. Matt Smith is the current Doctor and Steven Moffat is the mad genius showrunner. Even if you don't love it, your nieces and nephews would never speak to you again if you refused a part on it, and it's responsible for turning some relatively innocuous things into nightmare figures."
"...Like?" Simon asks, eyeing Isabella, who's now humming the theme tune at Mei to make her sulk even more.
"Children in gas masks." Gavin replies. "But one of the worst is statues of angels."
"Statues of angels." Simon says in disbelief.
"We'll show you Blink and then you can talk." Angel shrugs.
----
Sitting in the make-up trailer. Drew is frowning as he rubs a towel over his feet, getting the last of the water droplets off after cleaning them. "So how precisely are we doing my feet?"
Helen the prosthetics master fumbles in the box next to her. "Well, it's not hobbit feet, you're lucky there."
"Considering it's only treads on the base of my feet in the comics, I should hope not." He points out. "Reminds me, did they settle whether or not I'll be wearing contacts at any point?"
"Think they'll do the first rushes, then see." Helen says. "They can convert a few bits and if it gets picked up they'll decide. It's not a big enough thing that it'll make much of a difference during normal scenes. i think it's more likely if they want you interacting with the city. Like, your eyes flare red when you're doing magic. Like in Merlin."
"Yeah, that works." Drew says. "they were supposed to be red all the time when Stormwatch started, but it just wasn't that noticeable in the Authority colouring given how much of it's done in firelight or explosions."
Helen finishes rummaging, then pulls a box out of the shelf marked 'Jack's feet'. "Suppose we should be glad you're not playing someone with complex costuming. Isabella just accepts she's just this weird half-android thing and doesn't have much in the way of opinion aside from 'I'd like to be able to move in it and can the headdress be not so heavy'."
"Blame the casting director." Drew grins. "They're the one that cast two fanboys. And then weep for the part of costuming that has to deal with Ross and his opinions on Midnighter's costume."
"I think the last whimpered scream from Leroy's department was 'buckles'." Helen says. "Okay, put your feet up, I need to coat them with goo."
drew makes a face. "Really?"
"They have to stay on while you're running and doing acrobatics." Helen says, applying the glue to the base of his feet and toes. "Camera's going to see the base of your and Apollo's feet the most, and he's wearing shoes."
"....Bollocks." drew says, grimacing at the feel of the goo, then flinching as she waves a hairdryer at them. "Still, at least it's not on my face."
"Oh yeah, theatre boy. What did you do?"
"Beast in Beauty and the Beast. Not including a whole bunch of panto." Drew twitches as she applies the pieces of rubber to the base of his feet and toepads. "Please tell me I'm not going to get a rash."
"As long as you've not got a latex allergy, we're fine." Helen comments. "And you should definitely know about that if you've had to wear prosthetics on your face. Face skin is way more sensitive than feet."
"True." Drew says, lifting up one of his feet and twisting it up to get a look. "Huh. Not bad. So make-up on top to make them blend as well? Going to be a bit weird."
"I'm envisioning middle of an action scene, they call 'Cut!' and make-up converges on your feet for touch-ups." helen says. "never mind your face, it's all about how fab your feet look."
"Hmm. How long do you estimate they'll take to dry properly?" Drew asks.
"Half an hour, probably. that's what these tests are for." helen says. "But you're going to have to wear them at all times since we don't know what angle they'll be wanting or how obvious these'll be from the side."
First test. Helen and one of the producers are standing watching, taking notes. "Okay, Test one of Jack Hawksmoor's feet grips." Finty the cameraman says. "Annnd.... Strut."
"I am not competing on Britain's Next Top Model." Drew objects.
"Shush. Sashay. Miss Tyra is watching. Be *fierce*." Finty admonishes.
Drew walks along the floor. "Not bad, seems to be okay."
"Problem being that walking isn't all they need to hold up under." Theo the producer says. "Finty, test two."
"Test Two. Running." Finty says. "Run, Forrest, Run!"
"One day we're going to come up wth a better phrase for it..." helen says, shaking her head as Drew takes off down the studio floor. when he gets back, he stops decently. "Huh. what's the support like? I could market these for the barefoot running people."
"Bugger all support, but they're not too skiddy. And I think the barefoot running people wouldn't have the patience to stand around for ages waiting for this to dry." Drew points out.
"It might work, you never know. Just have to accelerate the glue." Helen says, crouching down to check how well the glue's holding up. "seems okay, there's no peeling."
"I'm just dreading what solvents you're going to use to remove it." drew says.
"Cross my heart and promise no blistering." Helen says.
"Right, final test." Theo says. "Finty, test three."
"Annnnd... final test. The acrobatics." Finty says. "Imagine you're one of JLS. Flip for all you're worth."
"Can't I be part of Zoo nation?" Drew complains.
"Whatever floats your boat." Finty says. "Now flip and jump."
Drew takes a breath, then flips, frowning slightly on landing. "Not a great landing. Need more grip." Jumps up and does a spinning kick. "Argh! Less grip! Less grip! I don't need the ankle equivalent of whiplash!"
"Er, because those totally make sense." Helen says. "Which one?"
"Not as sticky." Drew says, going into a jump and roll, then a one-hand handstand. then a cartwheel. Then a complex set of jazz steps.
Finty speaks up. "Krumping is not going to test the feet prosthetics, and I've seen far better."
"Bugger. but it's fun." Drew grins, changing it into a quickstep, head held high.
"For our next request, can we have cell block tango?" Helen asks.