Center Stage looks bright from the Wings

"I hope so too." Mischa said. "But if someone was willing to take a chance on me, I'm confident I'll find someone to pay it forward."

"Always a good way to do it," he nods, grinning. "But you do realize," he says, giving her a level look, "that anyone with half of a brain would have seen you on stage and fought to snatch you up." The reviews of her as Liesl were nothing short of glowing.

Mischa shrugged and waved her hand in dismissal. "I'm no Judi Dench but I hope that my passion for theatre makes up for what I lack in talent."

"No one's asking you to be her or Meryl Streep or whoever else you think you should compare yourself to," he hums. "And your passion is what makes your talent. If you didn't have passion..." He tries to find something... fitting to say that won't make him come across like a total fool. He can't. Fuck it. "If you didn't have passion, you wouldn't be you and you'd have nothing at all."

Mischa thought about what he said. She supposed it was true but there was nothing in this world Mischa wanted than to be one of the greats. "I suppose so. It would still be nice to be compared to them. Then I would know that my acting is good."

"Are you still auditioning?"

Mischa nodded. "Yeah. You'd think a theatre degree from Yale would mean something. I guess that it doesn't." She sighed. "I guess it is really all about who you know."

"You should have told me, Mischa," he points out quietly. "I could help." He does still have his foot in a lot of doors, his arms around a lot of friends' shoulders.

"I appreciate the offer." Mischa said. "I really do but I want to make it on my own. I don't want it to be because I knew the guy that knew the other guy. I want to stand out."

He gets that. He really does. And he falls a little further down for her and her integrity. This is... not ideal. "If," and the word gets caught in his throat for a moment and he doesn't know why. "If you decide to change your mind, please let me know, Mischa. Even the best performance will be dull without you in it."

Mischa blushed in spite of herself. "I will. I promise." She smiled at him and reached for his hand. "Thank you for the advice and the offer. I really appreciate it."

"Anything for you," he says with a smile, reaching over to pat her hand; like a grandfather, he tells himself, or something equally familial. She's one of the few--he's sure--that sees the offer for what it is and not as some sort of hand out or piece of pity. "Though I'm not helping you with your grading," he teases because he really needs to break the tension and find a reason to leave, dammit.

Mischa laughed and shook her head. "That is a fate that I would not wish on anyone."

"A few words of wisdom, my dear," he says with a lofty grin. "Short midterms and multiple choice tests."

"I was thinking about a practical." She told him. "I was thinking about having a few one acts and have the students be in them. We charge admission, they get a decent grade, and everyone goes home happy."

"And the student has surpassed the teacher," he praises, his head tipping back with his laughter. "Now why didn't I ever think of that? So much less paperwork..."

Mischa grinned and winked. "Guess it comes with the territory of being a genius. After all, those who can not do teach. And those who can not teach, teach gym."

He pretends to shudder. "Damn dodgeballs." Then he realizes that he's still holding her hand. "Oh..." And nothing witty sprouts forth. He can't even bring himself to move. The mighty brought low by soft hands and a smile.

With that, the bell sounded announcing her next class would be there in a few minutes. "Duty calls." She said with a sigh. "We should go get coffee sometime. I mean, we can do that now, right?"

He startles at the bell and ends up letting go of her hand. And nearly tripping over the desk. But still... This is something like hope, yes? "That we can." His grin is wide and bright. "Whenever you have a free moment, Mischa, let me know."

Mischa smiled and nodded. "Sounds good. I hope your class is smarter than the last one I had. A girl actually asked if Sweden and Switzerland were the same country. She said she thought they were because they had a similar name." Mischa shook her head. "I weep for the future."

"At least the Iceland-Greenland debacle is easy enough to explain." He starts to head to the door now because he has to. He just... has to or something will happen that he won't regret but she might not forgive him for. "If they have too much of an issue with it, just remind them that one has far superior chocolates and watches."

"Don't forget pocket knives." Mischa said with a mischievous grin. "I'll see you later Mr. Lennox."

"See you later, Miss Petrova." He sketches a bow in her direction before slipping out as a group of student came rushing in. That smile... That girl. He might need to start teaching somewhere else. In Nepal or something...