Thread; Martin - Blog Posts
martinanselmo:
Martín wasn’t a pushover. He got along well with most people, but he was his own person— probably, right? Honestly, he didn’t know how the board had managed to coax him into this ridiculousness. Holding presentations was hardly new to him, he’d been a TA for a while back in his school days. He was eloquent enough, even if he wasn’t always the most outspoken person in the room. But the classes were free for him, so hey, it couldn’t hurt, right? Maybe his new teacher had some good tricks to share.
Again, his doorbell trumpeted that horrible 8-bit version of Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Martín sighed, as he finished up hiding the last of his dirty dishes back in the cupboards, and tucked away stray papers from his kitchen table. He straightened his shirt before making his way to open the door. “You must be Mr. Davis, come on in,” Martín said as he moved aside for the other. He closed the door, and then offered out his hand. “Martín Gutiérrez. Thank you for making a home call for me, it’s been a hectic week and I hardly have time to get home, let alone haul myself around Manhattan.”
Martín directed the other into his living room with windows so covered in plants you could barely see outside. He had to gather them all there in the mornings, for maximum sunlight. “How was your trip here? Not too complicated, I hope.” Martín hovered awkwardly in the middle of his living room, hands behind his back, waiting. How would they get started?
-
“Hello, Leo’s fine,” he greeted back at his new student, and he moved through the open door. Leo was trying to keep his eyes from widening at the realization that the two shared the same style. Dark curls, full burly beard, and a collared shirt. Leo chucked it to the man having taste because that was also a compliment back to himself. He shook Martin’s open hand with his own, switching the empty cup from hand to other before doing so. Leo’s shake was a good firm two shakes before releasing Martin’s hand. “It’s fine. You’re in my home borough at least.” Leo shrugged. He wasn’t ever going to complain about a twenty minute commute. His eyes moved to skim the place remotely, as they walked, and even noted the plants before turning back to Martin.
“So not at all complicated.” He said, finishing the small talk pleasantries. Leo surveyed Martin a little bit now, openly sizing him up as they both stood in the living room. Leo stood straight with no sign of fidgeting, and Martin was the complete opposite. If this is what he was acting like in the familiarity of his own home with one stranger… what would he be like in front of a crowd? The short quick mental image of the man stuttering did not feel like a reach. “Oh, Martín Gutiérrez,” Leo said with proper accent inflictions, “looks like we got a lot of work to do, sir.” He offered a smile even if his words were pretty telling of how many lessons were ahead of them.
Leo did wonder how he’d run lessons that wasn’t specific to acting. But he did break down the skills needed in order to present the art form. First of all the lessons was confidence. Being an actor you had to be the loudest in the room with no fear of failure. In order to do that was to be so sure of one’s self. If you couldn’t convince yourself, you cannot convince others. “Your first lesson will be to build your confidence.” Leo announced and proceeded to make himself much too comfortable in the space he was given. He set his empty cup down on the table, and began rifling through his messenger bag on the couch. Was it a way to prove how confidence can make someone overtly comfortable in a new place? Yes. Was it also cause Leo constantly possessed audacity? Also yes.
starter for: @martinanselmo where: martin’s casa
Leo was intrigued by this next client, mostly because of how the arrangement came to be. It wasn’t normal to receive a call from a manager that wasn’t tied to an actor. And the ink on his paycheck had stated otherwise. He remembered the call and how he tried to argue that a speech class would probably be best. But Leo’s argument fell short when the deal of multiple sessions were brought up. He could certainly use the money.
That’s how he ended up in front of a tall door, in front of a townhouse on the northside of Manhattan. Though Leo would debate his townhouse looked a lot better on the outside than this one did. He adjusted his leather messenger bag on his shoulder before knocking. He was perfectly on time, Washington Heights was a reasonable twenty minutes from home today. He even had time to stop for a coffee. Evident by the greek blue cup in his other hand. He looked at the still unopened door before deciding to down the last of the cup’s contents.
