Stupid stupid stupid new director. Jack hoped Geoffrey would be back soon from wherever he'd buggered off to, or play practice would become yet more unbearable.

His irritation was strong enough that it gave him something to think about other than vampires and coma victims for the first time in days. With a disgruntled sigh, he settled at his desk with a copy of the play to go over his lines just once more.

[Expecting one, but door is as open as the post!]

When Jack had gone outside this morning, he had discovered that his underthings were flying high over the camp and getting spattered by crumbs from falling pastries.

That .... went rather well with his decision to expect the unexpected, yes. He munched on a pastry -- he'd been eating them all day, even if it quite possibly wasn't the most hygienic thing in the world -- as he paged through his copy of the Scottish play and waited for Eric.

[OOC: For Eric, but open to cabinmates if they don't mind SP.]