Hop. Hop. Hop. His feet thud onto the boards, the noise bouncing and echoing through the theatre. It's pleasing, although his hopping isn't as graceful as he'd like. He's too heavy, his boots too loud. He takes them off, tosses them to the wings. One left, one right. Hop, hop, hop. That's better.
He runs and jumps and slides across the stage, stretching his arms out, his coat flapping behind him in his very own breeze. He likes the wind in his hair.
He crashes and burns, his feet trying to follow his boots and the whole ordeal landing him flat on his back.
"Hello!" he calls to the ceiling. His eyes are closed, and he laces his fingers behind his head and crosses his feet at the ankles. He can hear Anna getting closer, can feel her footsteps reverberating through the wood beneath his back. She stops, and he can feel her looming over him.
"Everything all right?" She asks. She sounds unconcerned, and he loves her for it.
He opens his eyes and smiles. "Peachy. Do you need something?"
"Yes," she says, with a heavy sigh. "There's a grant proposal--"
"Oh, god," he groans, and closes his eyes again.
"I'm sorry," she says, and actually does sound apologetic, unlike some people he could name. "The deadline is tomorrow, and the application needs a statement from the artistic director."
Geoffrey throws an arm over his eyes. He misses the wind in his hair.
"That would be you," Anna says.
"I was hopping," he tells her, trying to sound mortally offended, and he moves his arm a little, enough that he can peek at her with one eye. She's smiling like she doesn't really want to be, and then she sighs and sits down next to him.
"I saw. I... why were you hopping?"
He gasps dramatically. "Anna." He covers his heart with both hands. "Anna, if you had ever hopped, you wouldn't have to ask." He rolls over on his side, suddenly, and props himself up on one elbow. The look on his face is deadly serious, and he can see she's trying valiantly to match it.
"I have hopped," she says, affronted.
He bounds to his feet and holds out a hand. "No," he insists. "You obviously have not hopped. Come on."
She arches an eyebrow and takes his hand, pulls herself up. "You want me to hop?"
He puts his hands in his coat pockets and bounces on his toes. "Or jump, if you prefer. Leap. Bound, perhaps? Or just..." He finally loses control of his face and grins, wild-edged, and goes sliding to the other side of the stage.
Anna crosses her arms and looks skeptical.
"Come on, Anna! I will not jump with common spirits!" And he flies toward her again, happy in his breeze.
Anna toes off her shoes and hops carefully in place, once, and Geoffrey throws his head back and laughs and hops in a circle, center-stage, until she does it again.
The doors to the theatre slam open. "Geoffrey, what on earth is--"
"Richard! Join us." He spreads his arms and bows. "We are hopping."
"Anna?" Richard is aghast. Or possibly constipated. Geoffrey can never really tell.
"You told me I should have more fun, Richard," she says primly, and then hops a few more times.
"But--" Richard walks down the aisle, sputtering. "But this isn't fun, this is lunacy!"
"Lunacy is so ordinary," Geoffrey complains, and runs downstage, straight at Richard. Richard takes a few steps back, shrinking in his suit, and Geoffrey manages to slide to a halt before he flies off the stage. He flops on his stomach and hangs his arms off the edge. "Richard," he says seriously, "I am getting a feel for the space. I am becoming one with the Rose. I am working. Anna is assisting." He can feel her behind him, still hopping, and he fights the urge to laugh in Richard's face. "What do you want?"
Richard's mouth opens and closes a few times, and then he finally sighs and shakes his head. "Never mind," he mumbles. "Forget it. But I need that statement from you today, before you go... wherever it is you go."
Geoffrey rolls, leaps to his feet, waves a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. After the hopping, there will be grant proposals."
"Good," Richard says, though he doesn't appear to believe anything Geoffrey says. He turns and starts to leave.
"Richard," Geoffrey calls out. "You really should join us. Balance is important." He spreads his arms and hops backwards, grinning in what he hopes is an inviting manner.
Richard looks at him, at Anna, still hopping downstage right, and at the doors. Geoffrey goes from hopping to jumping, his feet slamming into the boards, the impact jarring his bones.
"All right," Richard says sternly, and Geoffrey nearly falls on his ass from the shock of it. "Ten minutes of hopping."