P O L Y E S T E R

[ike-whittle]

actornamedrory​:

Even Ike’s laughter was a pleasing sound. Rory didn’t know what to do with that thought, but he knew he wanted to make Ike laugh more, just to hear it again. “I just think… if you need to dredge up personal trauma every time you have to play something serious on stage.. that’s a pretty fuckin’ miserable life, huh? Like… I get the act of getting immersed in your character… and really feeling their pain. But if I have to feel my pain, deeply and fully to get there? That’s… cruel and unusual punishment. Couldn’t be me.” There was that laugh again. Rory sighed, content. “I haven’t had much of the pleasure of working with playwrights, I have to admit. I mean in college, a little bit. But all of my professional work has been with ol’ William Shakespeare, and sometimes I think that man would be rolling around in his shallow grave, if he could see me now. Would be a dream to work with someone like you, though. I’d feel a different command of my character.” He grinned, a smirk gracing his lips. “I’m competitive, deep down. Could never want to give up my winning streak. And hey! I’m the nice Jewish boy who hasn’t been to synagogue since he was Bar Mitzvahed, so I can’t really be safe, either.” Another sip of his coffee, with eyes crinkling at the sides. “Edgar’s a hard one. Most think of his bastard brother, Edmund, with his whole Machiavellian complex, and all that. Edgar’s a bit more simplistic… yet he’s a brilliant supporting role. I’m deeply lucky… and the cast is dynamite. I’m way too lucky to be working like this.”

“I mean, between you and me, Rory, I dredge up personal trauma all the time. And for no good reason whatsoever. Shits and giggles.” Ike allowed his features to spread into a wide, joking grin. Still, leaning forward on the table, he listened intently. “I mean, I hear you, man. Acting can be cathartic, sure. At least that’s what they tell me. But it sure as hell ain’t therapy. That’s why I was never any good at it, though. They always needed me to be at, like, an eleven. Crying, screaming, wailing, weeping, gnashing of teeth. And, let me tell you, I’ve never been more than mildly annoyed at anything in my entire life. Doctor says more than that is bad for my blood pressure.” Ike sighed deeply, wrinkling up his nose, before balancing his chin in his palm. He smirked. “Who cares what William Shakespeare thinks? To die, to sleep; To sleep, perchance to dream. He could use a few nightmares to keep shit interesting down there. In any case, though, you ought to think of branching out.” He laughed, giving a playful roll of his eyes. “But I’d hate to be your nightmare, pal. Most of what I churn out is crap. This new one, I dunno. I really don’t. Polyester Bloodbath was a fluke. You’d be good as the son in that one, though. We had this lousy guy out in Connecticut. Too tall. Put on this sort, of, weird Yankee accent.” He clicked his tongue. “Well, I guess so long as you don’t cheat, it cancels it all out. But only marginally. In any case, we’re both doomed. Maybe we ought to brush up on our Hebrew and try to at least get a handful of brownie points. When’s the last time I did a good deed? There’s not going to be a single angel to vouch for me.” He shook his head. “Ah, that’s right. I’m sure you’re knockin’ it outta the park. But don’t knock yourself. You’re there ‘cause you deserve to be. Luck don’t got nothing to do with it. I mean, really. I promise you there are plenty of young actors to choose from. They woulda picked a different one if he were better. I smell award season.” 

[ike-whittle]

kaiarose​:

“Oh no, that’s not what I was trying to do. Sorry about that.” She then stared at his phone trying to figure out the address. Kaia shook her head and replied, “You’ve definitely got the wrong place, buddy. Luckily for you, I know where that place is and it just so happens to be my time off.” She grabbed her belongings and jumped over the counter, now being face to face with the male. “I’m Kaia. Don’t worry Cinderella, we’ll get you to the ball,” she joked. 

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it. I always sorta sound like I’m doing a bit, but in complete, heartfelt earnestness, I would understand if more people tried to tune me out.” He flashed his teeth, giving a snort as he watched her examine the address. “Ah, figures as much. But, yeah, sounds like it’s my lucky day, huh? And I’m not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. Good on ya, though. Don’t let the man keep you over time. He doesn’t deserve it.” Clicking his tongue, Ike tucked his phone and clapped his hands together. “I’m Ike. And, damn, I was kind of looking forward to turning back into a pumpkin. I had less responsibility in the patch.” 

[ike-whittle]

therobrtsmith​:

Robert was definitely amused at the way the other spoke, but he figured that maybe it was something else talking? If not, this guy was just naturally cool. “You’d be right about that.” He smirked. “Well between that corner and that one, do you know if there’s any good restaurants?”

“Uh...there’s this little Vietnamese place few doors down. Real good pho. If you’re into pho, anyway. But maybe it’s too hot for soup. Real scorcher today, ain’t it?” Ike cocked his head to one side, giving a short nod. He hummed softly, chewing idly on his cigarette. “Down the other way, there’s this Eastern European place that had this kind of cold soup? Like, with cucumbers. I don’t think it’s really my thing, but hey, it was different. Back in New York, though, there’s this Norwegian restaurant. Good for gabbin’ over gravlax. But that’s neither here nor there.” 

[ike-whittle]

actornamedrory​:

“Oh god, don’t talk to me about Stan the man.” He grinned, shaking his head. “NYU already made me feel like shit over and over for not understanding his theory and putting it to practice… but look at me! I’m a working actor! So what if I’m not doing it the way I’m “supposed to”. What the fuck is the right way, anyways? It’s acting! So long as I am in debt of the audience, and directors and playwrights and fellow actors and such, I’m doing my job, aren’t I?” He took another sip of that ice coffee, savoring the taste. “The way you word things is exceptional, Ike. Truly. You astound me. And as for dreidels? I understand collecting menorahs. But I’ve got my lucky dreidel! I don’t need more than that. It always ensures my win.. why would I waste using another one for a worse fate? Still, might be better than toy cars. I always got striped sweaters for Christmas. We’re fully Jewish, but my mom still loves Christmas traditions. The tree, the cookies, the music, the whole shebang! Though we still got chinese food and went to the movies on Christmas night, as any Jew should.” He grinned. “I’d love to… but only if you’ll use one of my comps for King Lear. I’m playing Edgar.”

Ike snorted, breaking into something of a laugh. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice. I think he would hate me. He’d sit there, and he’d say, Ike, you need to think of something very traumatic from your childhood and feel it. And I’d have to say, Uncle Konstantin, look, I turned my emotions off years ago. We’re up shit’s creek. But, please don’t tell Chekhov. He’ll be mad.” He laughed more heartily. “Hey, you’re right. You’re out there doing it. Which is more than a lot of people can say. And doing it successfully too. I figure all you need is the toolkit that works for you, and I imagine you have that. But I’ll be the first to admit: I love an actor who wonders why he should say something. You want to come up to me and say, hey, this line is stupid as shit, cut it, I’ll be like, you’re right. It’s trash. Let’s get rid of it. It’s gone.” He shook his head, still smiling. “It’s all hot air. I just say whatever dumb thing pops into my head. Lucky dreidel, though, huh? Now, my grandmother would tell you that, sure, you could abuse that and get rich, but then no one would like you. It’s more about the joy of the game than the chocolate.” He clicked his tongue playfully. “It was all very confusing in my house. We did everything and nothing all at once. It’s almost like my parents didn’t want to raise me in one particular way. And so, when I do die, no precautions have been taken.” He grinned. “Oh, absolutely. I’ll be very honest, though. I always get the Ed’s mixed up in that play. I’ll just root for whatever one you are. How’s it going?” 

[ike-whittle]

orilas​:

Harper looked over at the commotion. When she heard that accent and the rant he went on, she couldn’t help but smile. She shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. “You gimme this on the train and I’d probably start crying.” Living in Chicago had done nothing for her accent. Living in a home of thick New York City Italians, working around the cops, it was forever engrained in her person. She only hoped Chicago wouldn’t dull it down. Of course, she may have pushed it out a little more just for the full effect. 

“Oh, I got a whole other subway routine in my back pocket,” Ike snorted, crossing his arms. “You take the A Train to 3rd Ave., then you get off, walk down the street, knock three times on the red door. You tell him Uncle Charlie sent you. He’ll let you in to use the bathroom. Don’t touch the doorknobs.” Shaking his head, he clicked his tongue. “I don’t think either of us is in Kansas anymore, friend. How ya doing? Ike Whittle. Manhattan, but not always. Jersey’s cheaper.” He extended a hand to shake. “That guy was really at fault, I swear.” 

[ike-whittle]

theharryallen​:

Harry’s mind raced the way it often seemed to, but she stuck her hand in her bag of Doritos, as she nodded her head, listening to what Ike had to say. She always thought about how she should probably start looking like an asshole and using chopsticks to eat the chips. As much of a douche as she might appear in doing so, that way, the orange powder wouldn’t stain her fingertips. “You’re talking to the queen of doin’ things, just ‘cause. I got you, man. But maybe it could be fun to shake things up, eh? Lie to ‘em a little bit. Test your creativity. I mean, you got it in spades, don’t you? Hot shot playwright, and all.” She smirked, popping another chip into her mouth. “That’s what grandmas are for. Mine convinced me that a slime monster lived under my bed. I mean, why would I believe that? But I did. I really, really did. Now even the sight of slime to this day… shakes me to my fuckin’ core.”

“I am literally the least creative person I know. Which makes me a fraud, a sham, an impostor. But we’re saving all that for my psychoanalyst, so I’ll have to come up with something else. But I assure you, any pretense of complexity is just that. Pretense. I have the depth of a half-empty carton of orange juice.” He clicked his tongue, shoving another piece of candy into his mouth. Coffee and gummy bears did not work well together, not at all, but that certainly was not stopping him from hyping himself on sugar. He smiled, flashing his teeth, before snickering. “Hey, I woulda taken the slime monster over the walrus. Slime monsters you can maybe befriend and have a heartwarming TV monster movie about it. Flipper and Free Willy already cornered the nautical market, so I was doomed. But people make those slime videos on the internet now, yeah? I don’t really get them. I don’t get the ASMR ones either. I found one, this lady, clacking her nails against a table, like this.” He demonstrated, but his own were cut too short to make a sound. “I hear her in my sleep now. I think she might live in the walls.” 

[ike-whittle]

actornamedrory​:

Rory was a huge fan of Ike. He wasn’t going to readily admit that, but… he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it was because they were both alumnus of NYU’s theatre department. Sure, they were quite a few years apart, and not even the same major, but it didn’t really matter. Maybe it was because Polyester Bloodbath was one of the best shows he had come across. Maybe it was also because he thought Ike was cute… but that was really beside the point. He sat with an ice coffee, cocking his head to the side, as he listened, ardently. “Look, I know what you mean. I became an actor, ‘cause I liked being other people. People always think it’s deeper than that, but I hate to say that it isn’t. Theatre just stumbles into some peoples’ lives. Without question or purpose… just, because.” He smiled, nodding his head. “Sounds like a Jewish grandmother for you. Mine always got me books on Greek mythology, a pair of socks and a new dreidel. As though I needed multiple dreidels?”

“Tsk, tsk. Stanislavski’s going to get you, pal. What’s this being someone else nonsense? I thought we were supposed to apply ourselves to the imagined reality of the play. Something something affective memory, sad, sad, sad.” Ike sighed deeply. He was not an actor, but he’d had to weather one course and certainly knew enough performers to make fun of the various techniques. Still, he managed a sideways smirk in Rory’s direction. “Theatre stumbled into my life because I was pissed off about my mom’s ugly bathroom wallpaper. That’s the whole story. There’s your quote. She had ugly pink, palm-leaf wallpaper in the bathroom, and it made me mad. So I wrote all about it, so everyone else could be mad about it too.” He sniffed, nursing his own coffee and giving a shake of his head. “The yearly dreidel is tradition, Rory. People collect them,” he added. “You know, my dad’s family’s Roman Catholic, so they just gave me a Hess truck every Christmas. As if I’ve ever played with a toy car in my life. What do you do with a toy car? Drive around?” He leaned backward, letting out a low groan. “If you want to come to the show, let me know. I can get you comped. If I make any money on this, it means I’m not an artist.”

[ike-whittle]

"No, sir, it was you who wasn’t watchin’ where you were going. Put a friggin’ helmet on, buddy, or those handlebars are gonna end up where your teeth are.” Ike had nearly been run over by a bicyclist, but then again, he had not exactly been paying attention to his surroundings. Either way, he was now heavily involved in a tirade against the stranger, who was trying his very best to speed down the block. Stepping back and brushing himself off, Ike gave a low sigh, rolling his eyes after him. “People, I tell ya, huh?” With this, though, he put an almost fond hand on his heart. “Makes me feel like home.”

@orilas​

[ike-whittle]

itsjames-b​:

“What would you do if your mother is trying to get you to meet someone because apparently you’ve been single for too long?” James asked the other, followed by a sigh of defeat. “I’m running out of excuses to say no to meeting this random woman she’s been trying to set up with… for like months now.” @chicagcstart​

“Well, actually, I ran away to an Eastern European monastery and lived as Brother Ignatius, for like, three months. It was a whole thing, but on the bright side, the whole chastity vow really shut her up. Granted, I talk too much, so they kicked me out. They never caught on to me being Jewish, though.” Ike quirked an eyebrow, his features falling into a sardonic smirk. He flashed his teeth. “I’m afraid I can’t help, man. My mom doesn’t like me enough, and certainly not enough for me to find someone to produce mini versions of myself with. Have you tried just telling her, ‘no, I don’t want to meet this random woman?’ That might work.”

[ike-whittle]

kaiarose​:

After dealing with a frustrating phone call, Kaia immediately plugged in her headphones and started listening to music. She had forgotten that she was still working at the front desk until a figure approached her. The female quickly pulled out her headphones and smiled slyly. “Sorry, can I help you with something?” @chicagcstart​

“Oh, no, you’re good. I’d probably tune me out too. I’m the worst. But it’s pretty nice in here, so I’m probably in the wrong place. This isn’t the right address, is it?” Ike narrowed his eyes at his phone before holding it out for her to see. He had been wandering the block for several minutes now in search of a certain rehearsal studio, but he was running into that uniquely urban problem of spaces being hidden in poorly marked high-rises. “I’m super lost and going to be super late.”

[ike-whittle]

therobrtsmith​:

“Yup. I am definitely lost.” Robert murmured to himself as he roamed the streets this afternoon. He had been in town a year, so one would think he knew where everything was, but sadly that was not the case. Looking at a figure nearby, he tried waving them down so he could ask them for directions. (@chicagcstart​)

“Hey, man, we’re all just trying to find ourselves, huh?” Taking another drag from his cigarette, Ike lapsed into something of a psychedelic voice before offering a genuine laugh, smoke shooting from his nostrils. “No, but you look pretty lost, man. I know how to get from that corner to that one, so if you’re looking for something in between, happy to help.”

[ike-whittle]

sophieparker​:

“Jesus christ, this is bad coffee.” Sophie groaned, a disgusted look on her face. Placing the mug back down in front of her, she stared at it blankly for a few moments, trying to decide if she should take it back or just suck it up. Complaining at cafés or restaurants she really wasn’t her thing, especially when she knew how trying customers could be at times. She wasn’t that sort of person. “Is it always this bad? Or did I just come in at the wrong time?” She inquired curiously, her gaze drifting towards the person by her side. ✰ ––– @chicagcstart​.

“Oh, it’s the worst. But this is specifically a coffee shop for masochists. The first time, I had a Groupon, but now I come to keep myself humble.” While this was evidently some sort of odd joke, Ike spoke in his typical, unfailingly earnest way. And despite it, he took another small sip of his own coffee before breaking into an exaggerated choking face. “Just how I like it.” Sighing, he leaned back in his chair before dropping his voice conspiratorially low. “I don’t think they know you’re supposed to wash the dish soap out of the pot before you re-brew it, but I’m really not trying to be some poor barista’s burden today. So keep calm and carry on, we will. It’s not supposed to be chewy, is it?”

[ike-whittle]

viktoriaaliz-t​:

“My dad almost never wear sandals. Or shorts, to be honest,” she gave a small shrug. At least when she spent time with them, she didn’t see it, but they were usually too busy with their jobs. Something she was used to. “Very fast. It takes some time for my brain to actually catch up to translate everything. I’m not the greatest still at English. Some of the terms just confuse me, which sounds silly since I’ve been here since I was around five. You would think I know the simple slang and such. The term spirit animal blew my mind,” she smiled, shaking her head. “A cowboy? Like the Southern accent?” There was way too many accents in the country. It was confusing for her. “It’s hard, but I love the babies like they are my own. So many of them need that love to grow.” She thought back to babies who were born addicted, giving a sigh. “Yeah, Northwestern. I mean, it’s possible. But I think people would think I’m weird. And no couches to nap on. We have couches to sit on during breaks, but not to sleep. I think tv really just wants people to think that we have time for sex and sleep during a shift and I’m lucky I have times to eat sometimes.”

“Well, then, they’re going to kick him out. Every dad has to wear shorts, even if it’s freezing. It’s in the bylaws.” Ike clicked his tongue very seriously. In truth, his relationship with his own father was strained, and so, he did not miss opportunities to take pot shots. He smirked. “Hey, you sound pretty good to me. I’m not the greatest at English either, but you get me, I get you, that’s all that matters, huh? Besides, any time someone makes ya feel bad about it, just ask them how many languages they speak. And remember, language is just something we made up, and the rules don’t matter, so screw it.” He shook his head. “I do think we ought to stop with spirit animal, though. Me? I’ve always preferred ‘secret lost soap opera twin who’s evil and trying to replace me.’ Try it; it’s fun.” He said this very sincerely, but seemed to find some sort of sideways delight in the concept. “Uh, yeah, I guess. But like, a fake one. Like you hear in the movies. No one actually talks like that, and if they did, we’d think they were doing a bit,” he smirked, cocking his head to one side. “That’s sorta nice, though. That you care that much. You sound like you’re good at our job,” Ike continued, and it was perhaps the most genuine remark he had made so far. “But you’re right. Those TV hospitals are wacky places. Goes back to the soap opera twin thing, I guess. Me? I’m a writer. There’s too many of us, and we all suck.”

[ike-whittle]

pip-huxley​:

“Like, literally not genuinely happy about anything at all?” Pippin frowned, “That’s sad man, and needs to change, not matter what you say.” He was rolling his eyes now but was still smiling as Ike played along. “It’s not a crime when I got keys, just don’t ask how I got them.” he joked. “I know who owns the pool, did some pieces for him.” Pip looked over at Ike, “I’ll work on the project exclusively myself, even make sure that the actor looks nearly identical to you and is one of the best.” he mused. “It’s a pool, you’ve never seen one?”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I have literally never known anything like joy. I’m just a sad medieval peasant trapped in the eternal bad harvest of life.” As he said this, Ike did manage a sly smile, apparently finding some sort of pleasure in being deliberately annoying. “And I like it that way. It’s my God-given lot, and what am I but a humble servant?” He hummed, quirking an eyebrow, but he did not need further convincing to do something mischievous. “Ah...well, that clears it up then. And, yeah, sure, sure, if I could afford it, secret pool would probably be one of my first big purchases,” he sighed. “On second thought, the only people who get killed in those things are beloved by everyone and never cause trouble. So I’m probably safe, yeah?” He scoffed. “I’ve never seen a secret pool. This feels like a pretty clear distinction. They chlorinate this thing, or what? I had better leave here with green hair.”

[ike-whittle]

augiexraub​:

“Oooh– so like, imagine the hive mother xenomorph but spotted like a cow.” Augie mused as he cringed at the thought, Alien was a great movie but seeing a xenomorph on tv still made his skin scrawl. “It’s definitely an interesting quantum physics fact. Though, let’s only eat like less than a fourth of the sun because we’d be fucked without it.” He was grinning, “Thank god because I would have dragged your ass with me even if you said no. Dude, I’m still brainwashed bt a cartoon rabbit.”

“In space, no one can hear you moo.” Ike responded with some nonchalance, as if that phrase was both completely sane and completely normal to utter. Udder. He rolled his shoulders, offering a smile. “Ah, but don’t we all just yearn for the frozen void of space, my man? If we eat less than a fourth, that means we each only get an eighth, yeah? And is that really going to satisfy anyone? I don’t think so.” He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Hey, who decided Trix was only for kids anyway? That seems like a weird rule, and I’m not so sure it would stand up in a court of law.”

[ike-whittle]

katara-taylor​:

Kat listened to him talk, taking a sip of the coffee she had in her hands. “Sounds like you didn’t really pay that much attention in school…” she said, raising her eyebrows. “No offense.” she looked back to him. “A 7-11? I mean, whatever helps the family get by. What do you do? If you’re not running the 7-11.” she asked. “I’d like to think I’m making a difference.”

Ike gave a short snort. “I mean, I absolutely didn’t. No offense taken. Like, people shouldn’t get offended by the truth, yeah? I don’t think so, anyway. Besides, joke’s on them. I’m, like, super cool and successful and not at all engaged in a fruitless never-ending search for meaning.” He hummed distantly, flashing his teeth. “Someone’s got to run the 7-11. You think those moderately priced candy bars go into circulation all their own? They don’t. We were a cornerstone of the national economy. But me? I write. Plays. Which is why I talk like this.”  

[ike-whittle]

katara-taylor​:

“First Aid and cooking are very valuable, though.” Kat nodded. “Taxes, well, they have programs that do it for you.” she laughed. “I did. I admired my teachers growing up, especially because they worked really hard with my parents to help them learn English when they met with them.” she smiled. “They are. Very proud.”

“So is an extensive mental list of Murder, She Wrote guest stars. Like I said, you give, and you take.” Ike replied earnestly, but it all seemed to be part of some ongoing gag. He clicked his tongue. “And people. People who can do it for you, but between you and me, I think my accountant might just run it through one of those programs.” He sighed very deeply. “Ah, well, that sounds very kind. Certainly better than my teachers. All they did was say things like, Ike, stop throwing that eraser, or no, Ike, Marky Mark did not write The Grapes of Wrath. I was sort of all over the place in school.” He waved his hand around. “But I think my folks wanted me to take over the family business. It was a 7-11, so not, like, a fun family business or anything. Like, I’m not heir to some magnificent ranching fortune. But hey, at least you get to do something worthwhile that helps people. And if nothing else, you put some good into the world, right?”