[OPEN] i hate to tell you but it's all an illusion

[meanwhileback]

Who: Penelope Lane, a very traumatized-looking Wolfgang Einhorn, and YOU! YES, YOU!!! GET OVER HERE
What: The open casting call for Penelope's fashion line! Also known as "Models A-Go-Go" or "The Trolliest Place On Earth".
Where: The Valhalla Inn. Specifically, the Ballroom. (Yes, it has one. It's a hotel, isn't it?)
When: Coardi, Ceidary 16th. Also known as "Today". Doors open at noon!
Notes: I'll post two thread starters, one for mingling amongst one another in the waiting area, where you should feel free to post WILDLY about how ridiculous this all is, get into fights, etc, and another for your own personal threads with Penelope, where she will decide if you are ~what she wants~. If you want to post elsewhere (outside the Valhalla being attacked by jellyfish, having a smoke break out back, snorting coke in the bathrooms, whatever) feel free!! Just make a note where it is in the subject. Y'all know the drill!
Warnings: Cursing, trollery, diva behavior. Possibly giant sky-jellyfish harassing the building. The usual.

Signs posted in the lobby and hallways of the Valhalla direct interested parties back past the dining hall to a large, seldom-used room, helpfully labeled "Ballroom" in several different languages, many not remotely native to Earth. Inside, the carpeted room is otherwise similar to general design scheme of the Valhalla, except slightly dustier. Several rows of folding chairs have been set up in a sort of airport-style waiting area to the side, and far to the end of the room sits a long table.

Seated smack in the center of that table is Penelope Lane, The Grand Bitch Herself, smoking a cigarette and looking for all the world like she's enormously dissatisfied with just about everything she can possibly think of. On the table in front of her is a notebook and pen, an ashtray, and a polaroid camera. Somewhere, a radio is playing through slightly crackly speakers.

At the entrance, a small table has been set up with a stack of carefully typed applications and a handwritten sign, instructing that applicants should take one and sit in the waiting area to fill out the paperwork until the number at the top of their form is called.

It's all very professional, or it would be, if there weren't the threat of giant killer sky-jellyfish floating around outside eating people. This has, understandably, put something of a damper on the occasion. But as they say, the show must go on. Because Penelope says so. Damnit.

Comments

interview | arthur

[paradoxlol]

Modeling. There's something he never thought he'd do. In fact, it's something he's never been remotely interested in. But right now? He needs money. With Mal's departure, he and Ariadne are saddled with a rent that's higher than they anticipated, and he's having to make ends meet by taking what odd jobs he can when he's not working at his "real" (legal) occupation.

When his number's called, Arthur stands and walks purposefully to Penelope's table. Arthur doesn't really want to be here, and he hopes it doesn't show in his expression. Really, what's more likely to leave an impression is the fact that his face bears an eerie resemblance to one Dr. Rex Lewis. Of course, there are some differences. Arthur, for his part, looks healthier, better put together, and there's clear muscle definition beneath his shirt. He may also be slightly taller than his doppleganger. Call it the benefits of a healthier lifestyle.

"Arthur," he says, offering his hand for a shake.

[meanwhileback]

Just the fact that he looks rather remarkably like Rex, whom she is already vaguely acquainted with, but clearly isn't, given how he looks a lot less like he woke up in a landfill in the morning, is enough to garner suspicion from Penelope. Thus, the Bitch Switch is flipped firmly into the On position for this interview.

"Application, please." And she holds her hand out expectantly, pointedly ignoring his offer for a handshake. We're not equals here, meat.

[paradoxlol]

Arthur raises his brow, but he doesn't say anything as he withdraws his hand. He just hands that application over wordlessly, then rests his hands in his pockets. Well, at least she said please...

[meanwhileback]

Penelope scans the form quickly-- she's read quite a number of them already today, the basic structure of them is burned into her brain like a crappy old computer monitor that was left on one webpage too long. No experience, too short, and a very serious look. Really, this one's stretching the limits of what she can work with, here.

"If I were going to hire you," she says, finally, looking up from Arthur's admittedly rather woeful application, "it'd be for print, not runway. Less pressure, but you'd need to be able to deliver in front of the camera. What I look for is natural attitude, smooth movements, interesting poses, charisma, engaging the viewer. I need someone that's gonna stop someone from flipping pages through a magazine and stare at the ad, you see what I mean? Intense, but not stiff. Loose, but fucking demanding attention. So. What makes you think you can be that, for me?"