2024-12-07 - 2/3 of a Cup of Coffee Break

It's late and Trace has been working all day with some new control panels for a small-scale fireworks display and choreography for wedding events coming up at the Castle. And so he wanders down to the break room to take a break, get some coffee, and maybe something to eat. He's dressed in his work usual -- jeans, some brown suede oxfords, and a white t-shirt with a long-sleeved russet colored shirt left open over it, the sleeves rolled up out of his way.

Currently, he stands in front of the coffee maker waiting. Did he forget to press the button to make it actually go? Yes.

Ari's jaw cracks on a yawn as he walks into the break room. It's chilly enough outside now that it's late that he's pulled his coveralls all the way on and thrown his coat over top (layering for the win) but since he's inside he immediately starts to regret that choice, unzipping-slash-unbuttoning down to a plain white t-shirt as he contemplates why he came down here.

Well, to take a break, obviously. But beyond that he's a little too bleary-eyed and blurry-minded for acual decision making, and so he queues up behind Trace at the coffee maker. Sort of. He, uh, well he lingers in the general area and fiddles with his phone, trying not to look too obvious about the waiting.

Though as the waiting continues, he delicately peers around Trace to look at the pot. And then, hesitatingly, offers up, "I think you might need to push the button still," with an awkward smile thrown in for good measure.

Trace is somewhat lost in his own thoughts which bounce around from topic to topic, flitting from the control panel, to the choreography, to the fact that he's tired and that he still has some work to do before he heads home. When that polite voice comes from behind him, he glances up, startled, and then stares at the coffee maker for a moment as though it had somehow betrayed him. "Oh. Shit. Thanks." He reaches out and pushes the button and the coffee machine starts to gurgle responsively, producing a cup within a few moments. "Sorry," he says as he steps out of the way, a faintly sheepish smile on his face. "Long night."

He pokes around through the assortment of creamers and finds a few of the same kind to throw into the cup. Hazelnut. There's always hazelnut. "How's it going?" Aside from the inordinately long wait for coffee.

"No worries," is offered up immediately, and true to his word Ari doesn't sound bothered at all for the minor wait. He tucks his hands into his coat pockets and rocks on the balls of his feet until it's his turn, and then he ambles up to the machine to get his own cup going.

As it brews, he looks over at Trace and nods. "Sure is. I'm still getting used to these hours... it's really been affecting my sleep schedule." A sleep schedule that was once rigorously adhered to; it's more the upset to the routine that upsets him than it is the lack of sleep.

The coffee pot spits and gurgles and stops working in the middle of making his cup of coffee, and Ari stares at it for a long moment as if his dark gaze might somehow convince it to do its thing. Spoiler alert: it does not. He tries the button a few times but it doesn't respond, and then he sighs. "Does that answer your question?" he asks as he gestures with his only half-full cup.

"Yeah, don't get me wrong, I love all of it -- just tired. Will be glad for things to slow down a little bit after the holidays," Trace admits as he watches the coffee machine gurgle, spit, and give up the ghost. He still has a full cup of unadulterated coffee and offers it toward Ari. "Here. We can make two two-thirds cups together if you want. I didn't put anything in it yet."

"Trace, by the way. You're part of that whole new crew that came in to work on the amphitheatre shows, right?" he asks, pretty sure that's where he's seen Ari before.

Ari has a staring contest with the coffee machine for a few heartbeats, and then the inanimate machine wins, because he looks away. First, to be taken aback by Trace's considerate offer, and then a smile spreads across his face. "Thanks, that's very kind of you," he says, and obligingly holds out his cup for the transfer of blessed caffeine to happen.

After, he says, "Ari," which is pronounced like the word airy, and then he tips his head in mute acknowledgment of what Trace says next. "Part of the Warner crew, yeah! We're a good chunk of the backstage crew at this point, I think, though I haven't met everyone."

It's his turn to consider the various accoutrements that one might add to coffee to make it taste like something other than hot bean juice in its purest form, though he doesn't make an immediate selection. "I came on with the holiday stuff so I'm looking forward to seeing what the pace is like when it isn't so," he pauses to gesture vaguely, "Uh, festive, I guess. Not too sound too bah, humbug about it." He offers up a self-effacing grin at that and then absentmindedly takes a sip of his coffee, which is still: A. black, and B. boiling hot. So he grimaces and goes to pour in some leftover pumpkin spice creamer.

Trace carefully pours some of his coffee into Ari's cup until they end up each with not quite a full cup, but enough to caffeinate sufficiently for a little while, anyway. "Yeah, I remember when they told us you guys were coming in. Everyone was pretty excited about what that'd mean for expanding the shows, hiring more performers, more work. More work is good for everybody."

He dumps his creamers into the coffee now that it's been divvied up and tosses the little plastic cups. Then he laughs and says, "I kind of thought this was the slow period between Thanksgiving and Christmas but I guess that's for the guests, not us. I'm looking forward to the lull after New Year's. Maybe that means we actually get one, too."

Wandering over to one of the couches he drops onto it, slowly enough to not slosh his precious coffee everywhere, but with a sold flump as he sinks into it. "Nah, not too bah humbug. As long as you take a minute to really enjoy it when you get a chance. It is kind of ... magical.. " he chuckles wryly. "When you get a moment to just breathe and take it in."

Teamwork makes the dream work, or in this case, the caffeine work, so Ari is grateful. Plus, the amount of room left in his cup is plenty to doctor it up to his liking, which involves a lot of creamer. Especially in the wake of having had some of it without.

"I'm glad it all worked out," he says, of the Warners' hiring. "I'm really looking forward to working on new productions, but I came in during the thick of it, so I'm just learning the ropes and doing my best to support everything already in place."

For a little while he remains standing, wondering if it's okay to follow Trace over, but that internal war ends with the just do it side winning out. Still, he chooses one of the adjacent arm chairs to perch on, craddling his coffee in both hands as he relaxes into it. "I went to the tree lighting! That was pretty magical. Plus the fireworks show after was great."

"I know how that goes," Trace says. "I've only been here since October. I came in during the prep for the Halloween stuff and then got a break from tat for Thanksgiving to actually settle in and learn from the folks who were here before me before I was kind of thrown into it full tilt for this winter stuff. It's a ride, but you'll get the hang of it." He grins encouragingly, lofting his coffee to Ari before blowing on the surface and taking a tiny sip. Hot.

Trace certainly doesn't seem to mind the company, perhaps grateful to be talking to another human being after hours of being nose-down in his work. He grins when Ari mentions the tree-lighting and the fireworks after. "I didn't get to see it but that's because I was working the fireworks show. But I heard it was pretty cool. New Year's is going to be huge." He seems pretty excited about that. "I'll be working that too so I'll miss it from the audience but.." he shrugs. "I still get to see the fireworks up close."

Ari's head bobs in a series of agreeable nods, to go along with what Trace is saying. He sips his doctored coffee, slow and careful, hands warming around he cup gratefully.

"I was talking with someone about doing a Roman-inspired performance. I might try my hand at freehanding a Roman-style sculpture or some pottery, see what I can make for that," he shares, happy to be talking shop. And then the revelation regarding what precisely Trace does at the park happens, and Ari's eyes widen. "Oh wow, that's awesome! I mean, sure, as an audience member it was fantastic, but I can't imagine what it's like up close and personal."

He allows himself, in a series of small measures, to really sink into the armchair, despite the danger of getting too comfortable when he's just on a break. Finally his back hits the cushions and he sighs into his coffee.

"Louder," Trace says with a chuckle. "More smokey. But nah, it's a lot of fun. I love doing it."

"So you make the props and set stuff for the shows? That's cool. I love seeing all the sets coming in and out of here, watching them go up and come down and how they're all designed to fit together, some of the visual illusions used to make them seem bigger and more real than they are using perspective. I've always envied that kind of artistry. I couldn't freehand anything if I wanted to," Trace says, obviously impressed with Ari's skills.

He cradles his coffee for a little bit, just letting it cool to non-mouth-melting temperatures before he gives it another try.

The explanation of what fireworks are like for Trace makes Ari chuckle too. "Nice," is all he says to that, but it's genuine.

"If it's not something the performers actually handle, basically. My sister does propwork and I leave her to it. My specialty is painting backdrops, I aim for realism as much as possible. But I'm trying to diversify my skills, so I do some woodwork too, and like I said--gonna try some sculpture." His explanation is occasionally paused for sips of coffee, his tongue apparently inured to the scalding temperature. Or maybe he just put in so much creamer that it cooled down.

Somehow it's already nearing empty, and Ari frowns down into it, because it's an indicator just as much as the clock on the wall that he'll need to get back to work soon. But for now, he allows himself not to think about the tasks yet to be done for the day. "Right now though I'm, yeah, just doing a lot of setup. There are a lot of different performances at the Lamplight so I'm just trying to learn what goes where so I don't have to refer to the stage diagrams constantly."

"Can't wait to see some of your work," Trace says genuinely. "I'll have to make it to some of the shows on the nights that I'm not working. I've seen the ones that are there now, most of them." His gaze flickers over toward the clock on the wall for a moment before returning. He's on limited time as well, but he is consuming his coffee a great deal slower, lingering, despite the fact that as soon as he finishes what he has left, he can go home.

"I can imagine that learning them all and having them constantly changing makes it challenging," Trace muses. "So how are you settling into the park outside of work? How are you doing with the Michigan Island Life? Which is a really weird combination of words to have in a sentence, but here we are."

"Yeah, watching the performances was the first thing I did. Had to get familiar with what I was gonna be supporting." Ari polishes off the last of his coffee without quite realizing he was that near to the end of his cup, and he looks forlornely down into it a moment before he leans forward to set it down on a nearby flat surface.

Like Trace, it's less a regimented schedule that Ari has to follow before he's done for the day as it is a list of tasks that he needs to complete, so he's only causing a delay for himself by not immediately getting back to it. Just a minute or two more, he tells himself.

As he sits there, he thinks on what, exactly, he's been doing in his off time, to answer Trace's question. "I haven't really left the park except to go pick up some furniture on the mainland," he admits. "Things have been, uh, good, though. How about you? Do anything interesting outside of work?"

"Yeah, that makes sense. I watched the shows and pretty much shadowed with the other technicians first when I got here, too," Trace nods, able to understand that situation. His own cup is dwindling.

"I haven't really, either," Trace admits. "I've gone to a couple of events here at the park. They recently had this sampling event at the castle where folks could try out different food and take samples of stuff they might use in the park. It was kind of fun. They did surveys to find out what everyone liked the best. Planning on going to the 90s Karaoke Night. Not that I can sing for shit, but that's what karaoke is for right? Just sort of making an ass of yourself in front of a bunch of professional performers?" He grins.

Okay. Time, at the very least, to get up. Ari gathers his cup and stands there a moment, nodding at Trace. Similar experiences there, it sounds like, regarding how their first days went.

"Oh, that sounds nice," he says, privately regretting having missed an event with free samples. Who doesn't love free samples, after all? But it's the mention of karaoke that has Ari's eyes widening. "That sounds so intimidating, especially after seeing all the performances! But you're right, karaoke isn't serious."

Still, Ari can't imagine doing it himself. He shakes his head as he steps back over to the kitchen area, past the potentially non-functional coffee pot to the sink so he can clean his cup out. "I'll put in a ticket about the broken machine," he mentions, while he's thinking about it.

Trace finishes off his own cup and drags himself to his feet as he makes his way over toward the sink to loiter off to one side until Ari is done in order to rinse out his own cup. "They do them from time to time, I hear. And they're done here in the ballroom upstairs so it's perfect for sneaking away and making a sampler-meal before sneaking back to work."

He taps the sides of his mug lightly with his fingertips and laughs a little, "I didn't go to the last one but they did one over at Bootlegger's not that long ago and I heard it was a great time. So I figure, yeah sure, I'm going to sound bad, but it'll be fun and it'll be an opportunity to meet some more people."

The offer to put in a ticket for the coffee machine reminds him, "Oh... there's a storage room downstairs, on the sublevel. The door's got a big X in masking tape on it. It sticks if it shuts and you gotta get Maintenance or Security to get you out. And phone signal's shit. So either bring a friend or prop it really well if you go in there. Pass it on to the others if they don't know. It's mostly lighting and electronics parts in there so they've been slow getting it fixed. But I got myself stuck in there. Twice, now." He smiles a little wryly.

With his cup cleaned and set aside to dry, there's really no more reason to linger. Besides the conversation, and Ari is surprised to find he wouldn't mind more, despite his social battery being near-constanly depleted. Alas, though, it is time to go back to work, so he zips-slash-buttons up his coveralls and coat in preparation.

"I hope you have fun!" he says, of the karaoke. Definitely not going to that himself, but Ari's not the type to yuck someone's yum, or in this case ruin someone else's fun. He smiles as he shoves his hands into his pockets, turning towards the exit.

Then the warning comes, and he pauses to blink in confusion. "Oh, jeez. Yeah, I'll let everyone know. Neve or Callie might end up stuck in there. Thanks! It was nice meeting you, see you around?" And with that send off, he waves back to Trace and then heads out, back into the cold.

"Thanks," Trace says when Ari wishes him well on his karaoke endeavors. He doesn't push, seeming to pick up that it isn't something Ari's interested in. Instead he just nods and gives a thumbs-up when he says he'll pass on the warning to the others. Then he moves over to rinse out his own cup and clean up after himself. "Yeah, was nice meet you, too. I'm sure I'll see you around. Have a good one!" Lifting one hand he gives a wave and then, regrettably, moves off to get back to work, himself.