13. A Hive at the Opera part 2

Sandy escorted me down the hallway towards the lovely yet astute Ms. Cartwright. As we paced along, we had to avoid various, meandering stagehands and moving men and women.

"Okay…just move your lips right as you hear me talk," the green parrot said into my ear. "I swear…this will soooooo work."

I mouthed something to Beast Boy and shook my head.

He seemed to understand. He clattered his beak and muttered quietly, "I'm the leader here, remember? Whatever I say…you just act out, k? I'm gonna get us familiarized with this place, Mr. Allenthorpe."

I sweatdropped, built up courage, and proceeded to carry myself with the very same 'air of dignity' that I entered the building with, per Beast Boy's directing.

"Mr. Allenthorpe," Ms. Cartwright walked forward and extended a hand. "We've been waiting ever so patiently…"

The parrot on my shoulder turned his head, took a breath, and prepared forth some mysterious ventriloquism.

I sweated bullets, but hid it as I opened my mouth just in time:

Patience is a virtue too ambiguous to categorize, my dear madame…~

My eyes stretched in horror at the words 'coming out of my mouth', but I had no choice but to continue as Beast Boy went on.

~…but know that I respect any fair face for the hard work she puts into a marvelous stage preduction, regardless of the pressures of time constraint.~

He supplied a voice extraordinarily deeper than the common Beast Boy…not to mention more refined. It seemed like he was making some wicked attempt to sound older, or at least emulate the voice I might possibly have. I didn't believe so.

My heart beat weakly as I anticipated Ms. Cartwright's reaction.

The dark-haired woman blinked at me through her thin glasses, silent. Then she stuttered forth into a smile, "Why….er….th-thank you, Mr. Allenthorpe. You're just about as sophisticated as Mr. Anderson has told me about you."

I didn't know how to respond to that, since I was waiting on my 'voice' from Beast Boy. So I improved with a pompous smile and did a thumb's up.

Both women stared at my thumb's up.

"….." I brought it to my temple and brushed a few hairs straight, simpering…….waiting….

~How goes the show?~

Beast Boy suddenly voiced, forcing me to calibrate with my lips like I was pushed into 'fast forward'.

"Right on schedule!!" Ms. Cartwright beamed.

Sandy tapped on her shoulder. "Um….but ma'am…about the sandals---OOF!"

Ms. Cartwright elbowed the girl away and stepped towards me happily. "It is going right on schedule, sir. And if I must say, you're gonna certainly enjoy the cast members we've assigned to the final show. Why don't I take you into my office and let you see the program pamphlet in full?" She led me by the shoulder down the hallway and turned around, shooting daggers with her eyes at Sandy in such a manner as to think I was blind to it.

I wasn't.

SLAM!!

Inside her office, Cartwright shuffled to her desk and pointed to a chair. "Have a seat, Mr. Allenthorpe. Excuse the mess, we're busy moving items to and from the backstage, and we had to put some of the furnishings from the hallway in here for the day."

I meandered my way around random lamps, bookcases, and globes.

~Quite fine, my fair lady,~ Beast Boy spoke and I mouthed as I found a seat. ~After serving my country in Desert Storm, I've grown accustomed indeed to pacing myself safely.~ I bit my lip but tried not to show it.

"Oh, how fascinating, you were in Desert Storm?"

No…NO! I WASN'T!!!

~I certainly was!~ I crossed a leg over and gestured nonchalantly (as the parrot did the talking). ~I was over there……with the fires…………….and um, camels.~

"It must have been quite an uncomfortable situation, especially for someone with a pacemaker."

I blinked.

Beast Boy blinked.

"Tell me…when was your last operation?"

Um…………

~Tuesday!~

NO!!!

Ms. Cartwright blinked. "Good heavens! Shouldn't you be wearing a mask or something?"

~Er….what for?~ I looked questioningly at her.

"Why, for the risk of infections after organ treatment!"

~Oh….that….why, yes, of course! Heheheheh!~

"……"

We both gulped.

Eventually, I cleared my own throat and Beast Boy cut in. ~Tubes!~

"Tubes?"

~It's some sort of….new, exuberant technology, my dear. They run tubes through my……body and it makes me safer.~

"I see…"

~Quite state of the art.~

"Yes, quite."

~…..~

"……"

I shook my shoulder. The parrot flapped up and down until finally, ~Let's talk business.~

I flinched.

"Oh….w-well then," Ms. Cartwright seemed flushed, cornered. "Straight to business, is it?"

~Well, I'm a straight man……straight forward, that is.~

"R-Right…," Ms. Cartwright hesitantly reached in her desk for a finance notebook of hers. She seemed to be stalling for some pressuresome reason. I felt sorry for her and every living thing with estrogen and was about to jump up and carve my way out of the room with Myrkblade when Beast Boy interjected:

~What I mean is, Ms. Cartwright…,~ I mouthed as the voice went on. ~…is that I want to have a guarantee on the goodness of this show.~

The woman blinked. She smiled weakly, "Mr. Allenthorpe, I assure you that our portrayal of Il Trovatore is a most excellent one and—"

~I have no doubt that it's excellent, my fair lady. I just need to know how much more….excellent it is.~

Ms. Cartwright blinked. "I-I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. Did you want to see a program?"

~Actually, I would rather see the show.~

"In that case, we've been rehearsing all week. You can stop on by and see how well the practice has gone along--~

~I mean the real thing. I can't make any judgments on Medieval Spain and all its Spanishness if I can't see the real thing being done! You know…under pressure! Theatre lights! The works!~ I flung my arms about to accompany Beast Boy's dramatics.

"All well and good, but—"

~In Desert Storm, the camels didn't run.~ I swung desperately. ~No. They flew! They flew cuz burning oil fields were licking up at their backsides! When life puts mortal fear into a man, Ms. Cartwright, he doesn't run. He soars.~

I took a deep breath, my jaw getting a workout from lip syncing all that. I never thought of it before, but it must be quite a pain to have to move your lips every minute of every day.

"I'd be more than happy to supply you with the reserved seat Mr. Anderson had planned! And if you desire to watch the rehearsals as well, all you'd need to do is be present!"

Beast Boy nudged my ear with his beak. "Get up!" the parrot whispered.

I stood up. ~In that case, I'll need a place to say.~ I adjusted my sleeves regally as I 'said' this and grinned at the woman. ~Something not too trite, if possible.~

"……," Cartwright stared. "Um……okay. No problem. We actually have a few spare dressing rooms on the third floor that could double as bedrooms."

~Have your most spacious one reserved for my nightly stay,~ I paced over in front of her desk. ~I would be…..~ I waited for Beast Boy's words, sweating. ~…..most happy with such generosity.~ Picking up on Beast Boy's idea, I patted the pocket where a 'wallet' could be. ~Most happy indeed.~

I swear, dollar signs flashed in Cartwright's eyes as she grinned and extended a hand to shake with me. "Very well, sir. Expect a most comfortable stay."

~It's already been comfortable,~ I smiled. ~….so long as I've been blessed by your grace.~ My smile left. I blinked quietly and resumed mouthing/grinning. ~If it's not too much trouble, may I kiss your hand?~

What?!?!?!

Cartwright seemed taken back. "Well….um….a little old fashioned, but sure…"

I took her hand, panicked a bit in uncertainty, and just simply brought it to my lips. I kissed her skin softly—in an attempt to not be awkward—but realized I had made it worse. When I gave her hand back, she was quite obviously blushing.

"Hehehehe…such a gentleman. Mr. Anderson never told me…"

I smiled—almost fainting.

Beast Boy supplied me: ~Ready, willing, and able.~

In the part, I winked…not like she could see behind the glasses.

"I-I'll…um…have Sandy show you up. Y-Yeah," Cartwright took her glasses off and smiled. Her eyes were thin.

For god's sake……get us out of here.

~Much thanks…and that goes for Gabriel as well.~

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel?!?!

~My parrot.~ I blinked. Then pointed at Beast Boy in a delayed reaction.

The green bird beamed.

I glared at it, saved my persona, and bowed towards the stage director.

~I must bid you farewell. Until later, madame.~

"Hehe…so long, sir."

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

I was out the door…and at the bird's neck.

"SQAWWWK!!" he slunk into Beast Boy and dangled from my grasp. "Whoah!! Easy, Noir!! So I had to improvise! Gotta admit, I do add quite a bit of finesse!"

I glared, gestured with a free hand, stuttered, failed.

"Relax! I got us a place to stay, didn't I? And so what if I got on Ms. Cartwright's good side? I couldn't resist! I'm sure Mr. Allenthorpe would agree that she's pretty hot for an office chick."

I sighed.

"Dude….let's just go to our room…shed all this disguise for now, and then search for Kitten! It's gonna be as easy as pi! Or is it pie? Or maybe---SQUAWWWK!"

"Um….hello? Mr. Allenthorpe?"

I looked down the hallway.

Sandy blinked up at me under her glasses. "Why are you choking that bird?"

I glanced at my now fowl friend, simpered, and planted him back on my shoulder before clearing a throat.

~I was merely petting it~ Came out 'my' Allenthorpe voice, a bit more hoarse than beforehand. I supplied lipsync for it at the last second and was prepared for Beast Boy's next: ~If I don't pay enough attention, it'll start molting.~

"Yes…I suppose so," Sandy replied. Looking at me once over.

~Who's my pretty bird?~ I blinked. Then realized I was supposed to be petting Beast Boy…..ew.

It patted the green bird's head and grimaced as I had to portray: ~Who's my pretty bird? You're my pretty bird!~

"Brawk! Pretty bird!!" the green thing said out loud.

I burned his feathery forehead with my eyes yet managed a: ~Pretty bird! Yup! That's right!~

"Pretty bird!"

"Ahem…," Sandy cleared her throat. "I-I was asked to….show you to a room to stay for the night?"

~Ah yes,~ the voice said, and I turned to face down at her. ~That would be most splendid. Show me the way, dear.~

The girl guided us down the hallway, up a set of stairs, through the extravagantly furnished lobby, a dining area, and then a shortcut through the spacious theatre itself. Both parrot and human couldn't help but look up at the majesty of the place's size and scope. I never thought I'd be rich enough to so much as step inside a place as this. The stage was being swarmed by ant-like stagehands a long way's off from where we walked; hoisting backdrops and set pieces and such.

I—we were so distracted that we barely noticed Sandy talking.

"Mr. Allenthorpe, may I ask you something, sir?"

I subconsciously gestured something in reply. Beast Boy bit my ear, stopping my foolishness, and supplied the necessary voice: ~Go ahead, Miss Sandy.~

"How old are you, sir?"

~Pfft….twenty-eight!~ I glanced at the parrot through my shades. I was somewhat flattered.

"That's interesting."

~Why's it interesting, my dear?~

"Like….from what Mr. Anderson and Ms. Cartwright said, I kinda assumed you were an old guy and stuff, sir."

I sweated and looked at Beast Boy.

He was quick. Boy he was quick. ~Well…you see, that was Mr. Allenthorpe Sr.~

"Oh? Are you a different Allenthorpe, sir?"

~I'm the….fifth in the line of my family.~

"Where're your roots?"

~Ah…Egypt.~

I cleared my throat.

~I mean Norway. Norway is what I meant.~

"………….huh…."

Sandy led us out of the theatre and up a set of stairs towards the second floor. Through doorways we saw passages leading to opera boxes with fancy chairs. Fancy….

"So…did the weather clear up?"

~The weather?~

"One of your servants called in and said the warm weather was holding you back," Sandy said matter-of-factly. "I was surprised that you made it here so quickly……….unless….."

For a second, both me and the parrot gulped.

"Oh…of course," Sandy chuckled lowly. "It was your father who was detained."

~Indeed~ Beast Boy voiced for me. ~The weather is hardly nice to him. You should see him on hot Saturday nights.~

A pause.

~Then again…maybe you shouldn't.~ Beast Boy cleared his throat—which I mimicked—and then asked, ~Are you a stagehand?~

"I'm Ms. Cartwright's personal assistant," Sandy explained, leading us another set of stairs to what looked and felt like the attic of the place. "I handle memos and deliver messages for her."

~A little young, aren't you?~

Sandy shrugged as we reached an old wooden door. "It's a summer job. I can't complain."

CREEEEAK

She opened the door. I stepped inside, Beast Boy flapping on my shoulder, and entered what appeared to be a room built under half the incline of the attic. A round, Victorian window stretched horizontally along the middle of the room, beside an old mattress, a wardrobe, and a rocking chair.

~It's…..old.~

"It'll have to do if you want to stay here, Mr. Allenthorpe," Sandy said. "We'll do all that we can to see to your comfort, but the WestHaven Opera House you so provide for is a theatre first…a hotel second. Feel free to call me if ever you need something."

~Yes…the WestHaven Opera House….it's about time that I saw this place in person.~

"…..," Sandy was silent.

~Is there something the matter?~

"Nothing, sir. I suppose I'll leave you be."

I glanced at Beast Boy. The bird voiced: ~Yes…now would be a good time to….collect my thoughts.~

"Rehearsals should be taking place soon, sir. Just to let you know."

CREEEEAK—and the door shut.

Beast Boy reappeared in elf form. "Ha! Right into the niche! Man, we both rock together!"

"….." I stared at him.

"What?"

I glanced down.

So did he, and realized he was still sitting on my shoulder.

"Oops…heheh….sorry."

He slinked down onto the floor and nearly tripped.

I helped steady him.

"Sorry…gotta get used to non-bird legs for a while. So…what next."

I practically pratfalled.

"Ha ha ha ha! Just kidding," Beast Boy held his stomach, chuckled, then cleared his throat. "Kitten time."

I gestured at him.

"Whatever you're saying, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about!" he exclaimed. "Just a matter of searching the whole place from head to toe and finding what room she's in. That is, assuming she's a major actress in this play…but then again she probably isn't, so she wouldn't have a room. So she might be staying in a motel and not be in the building at all, unless of course she is in the building but is only rehearsing for Il Trovatore…or maybe she isn't rehearsing at all but doing some sort of part time job like Sandy…or maybe………"

I wanted to whimper like a wounded animal.

"Let's just rest for now," he said.

Allenthorpe or not, I couldn't agree more.

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

An hour and a half later—as the sun was going down—the two of us opened the door and peaked out as one into the hallway.

"Okay, remember," the green parrot whispered into my ear. "You're twenty-eight years old, handsome, and rich beyond your dreams. It may be a bit of a stretch for you, but can you realistically portray something as diverse as that?"

I glared at the bird through the corner of my shades.

"Ahem….let's just go downstairs and start searching."

"Oh Mr. Allenthorpe, there you are!!"

~SQAWWK! Ahem…er, I mean--~ I blushed, scratched my neck and waved at Ms. Cartwright as she jubilantly walked up to me. Beast Boy recovered just in time. ~Testing out my lungs there…heheh. Was going to go for a walk and check out the theatre but--~

"You must come with me. I insist!" Ms. Cartwright exclaimed, tugging on my arm.

~Um….come where?~

"Rehearsals, of course! I instructed everyone to put down extra effort since you were here!"

I again glanced at Beast Boy through the shades and mouthed 'now what?'.

The bird sweatdropped and whispered. "We….um…..critique!"

-T-T-T-T-T-T-

I've never been much of a theatre-goer. I can sit through briefings by Robin for missions. I can stand around while Cyborg explained the multiple positives of his latest T-Car upgrade. I can even manage a viewing of one of Starfire's many favorite, earth-based documentaries. But sitting through an opera—opera rehearsals much less, was a challenge in and of itself.

I'm not sure if it was his momentary, bird-brain instincts…but Beast Boy had no problem staying conscious. In fact, I owed my wakefulness to him and his incessant beak-tappings on my neck whenever I so much as risked nodding off.

I sat—we sat in the front row of the grand theatre, staring straight up at the edge of the stage where actors and actresses—out of costume for rehearsals and flanked by busy stagehands setting up the scenery—sang their lines with as much heart that they could muster.

I suppose I should have felt pretty pathetic. Though it was truly Beast Boy's plot and his plot alone, I had put myself into an embarrassing situation…one not typically befitting of a Titan.

Being new and all, I wondered if the others would have grace on me and my actions. Or then again, if Robin and Co. got mad, I could just blame everything on Beast Boy.

All in good time, I suppose.

Another round of endless—er—foreign singing ended and I got another peck from Beast Boy. I clapped nonchalantly along with Cartwright and a few other directors. In the distance—off stage—I caught sight of Sandy through my shades. She seemed to be hovering about the scene…as if collecting data for her own, secret means. I wonder if the green bird's eye caught it too…

"All right," spoke a female casting director on stage. "This next scene is one we're proud of our performers for mastering. It's in Act Three when Fernando learns the truth behind Azucena and decides to have her executed. Fernando, of course, will be played by Mattias Fitzgibbons. Patricia Heaton is Azucena, and Count di Luna is—"

"NOO!!!"

I nearly fell out of my chair when the most god-awful, bone-grating sound in the world rocketed into my ears, smacked into the eardrum, and sodomized itself upon the inner workings of my brain. Even Beast Boy—who honestly was becoming light-eyed himself—jumped and fluttered at the horrific sensation before looking over, smirking (if that's possible with a beak) and whispering into my aching lobes. "There be the feline…"

"I SAID I WANTED TO BE AZUCENA!!"

Cartwright sweatdropped. Sandy fled.

The casting director sighed and looked, thin-eyed, at an approaching blonde thing trashed together in all the forbidden shades of pink.

"Miss Rachel Plath…you're out of line."

'Rachel Plath'?!

"WHY CAN'T I BE THE GYPSY GIRL?!"

"Because….," the casting director drolled, "…you're the other gypsy girl."

"Yeah…the one who doesn't TALK! Stupid! I want more lines!"

"Well you can't get more lines! Il Trovatore hasn't been altered in nearly 200 years!"

Ms. Cartwright cleared her throat and leaned into my ear. "That's Miss Plath," she half-moaned.

The girl argued with the casting director in the background. Her eyes were blazing with brattiness.

"She's the daughter of….a rich man, I'm told. I really have done the best I could to keep her only minimally involved with the play. She's got the role of an extra who appears on stage a lot…just doesn't speak hardly at all. Well, she's not supposed to speak, that is…"

~Is that so….~ Beast Boy and I both smirked (beakless or not) at the same time.

"WHO EVER HEARD OF AN OPERA WITHOUT A BLONDE LEAD ROLE?!"

Beast Boy nudged me with a feathery nudge. I stood up and lifted a finger.

~Um…if we could have a word with the young lady..~

"AND JUST WHO ARE YOU, PUNK?!"

I froze.

People around me gasped.

Cartwright about had a heart attack.

Sandy peaked over from behind the curtain.

I blinked.

~Ahem….~ Beast Boy emphasized, and we continued. ~I just wanted to say that--~

Suddenly—I could have sworn through the corners of my black eyes—I spotted a flash of pink light.

Creeeeeak!

Everybody looked up and gasped. I was the last one.

A metal wireframe of lighting—hung high over the stage—was suddenly snapping off its supports. Stagehands—nowhere near the apparatus—cried out warnings.

"Look out!"

"She's gonna fall!"

"How on earth—"

"GET OUT OF THE WAY!!"

The blonde thing was the loudest of all to shriek as the ropes snapped and the thing came crashing down without a hitch.

My black eyes widened under the shades and—for a moment there—I realized Beast Boy was gone.