2024-12-10 - In the Witching Hour

It's late. The kind of late that is almost early, depending on how you look at it, and Ari would never have imagined he would be the type of person to stay at work so late. Willingly. Happily! But as he sits on a drop cloth, one knee tucked up against his chest and his other leg underneath him, he ignores the pull of sleep and instead considers the large span of plywood before him.

He taps the end of his paintbrush against his cheek, deep in thought if the furrow to his brow is any indication. At his side, his free hand strays to the set diagram printout, and the pictures someone from PR had dug up from last year's production of The Midnight Wish. It's good to have a reference, but just copying what's already been done doesn't feel right.

It has to be special. Magical.

Which is a tall ask, in Ari's opinion. He's just some guy, and he's supposed to be painting the backdrop for something called the Wishing Well, the setting for the musical's bombastic finale. From what he's seen of the AV side of the production, it's going to be pretty amazing. So it goes without saying that the set has to match the digital visuals, but Ari doesn't want them to just play backup, right? It's on him, whether or not that comes to pass.

A soft sound draws him from his musings. He should be alone here, given the time, so it's pretty unexpected (and maybe a little nerve-wracking). It happens again, the sound, resolving itself into a soft meow that makes Ari sit up a little straighter, trying and failing to peer around the various workbenches and equipment setups to see where it's coming from.

But it proves to be unnecessary. A cat, just a slinky black shape, comes around the corner of a desk and ambles right up to him, paws delicately picking their way past the paint palette and other assorted supplies spread out next to Ari on the drop cloth. "Oh," is all Ari's able to get out before the cat is in his lap.

Which is. A thing. That just happened. To him. Ari goes stock still, frozen to the spot as the cat perches on his thigh and headbumps his chest, clearly vying for affection.

"What is happening right now?" he whispers, into the silence of the room. Then the cat starts to purr, and it's not silent any more.

Soon enough, Ari finds himself reclined backwards onto one hand, the other fully occupied in scritching behind the cat's ear as the affectionate feline kneads his leg. It's a little sharp and pointy sometimes, but on the whole totally worth it, in his opinion. "You're skin and bones," he comments as he runs a hand down the cat's back, feeling the indent of ribs against the tips of his fingers. "Maybe I should feed you something?"

Instantly, the cat leaps from his lap and trots away, tail twitching, and Ari hastens to climb to his feet and follow. The cat leads him through the workshop and out into the tunnels, where it promptly makes the right turns needed to get to the breakroom. "Oh, so you know where the food is, huh?"

This is how Ari ends up dropping $10 he doesn't really have to spare at the automated checkout for sandwiches, one for him and one for the cat. Well, the cat just gets the ham from the sandwich, so technically Ari could have two sandwiches if he wanted to. It's not as if he's never just had a cheese sandwich before, he's not picky! They sit on the floor and eat together, Ari and the cat, who is without collar and thus nameless, as far as he knows.

"Do you have a name?" Ari asks. He does not get an answer back, just a lick of the chops and a slow blink. He frowns, in a thoughtful way, at the cat and offers up:

"Salem?"

No reaction. Too obvious, of course.

"Binx?"

Nothing. Same reason, no doubt.

"What about Luna? Do you prefer something feminine?"

...Yeah, maybe he should chill with the references.

"If you were a Warner you'd be named Michigan, but you probably don't want that, huh?"

The cat starts to groom its paw, and Ari sighs, dusting sandwich crumbs from his hands. "Okay, reading you loud and clear. Maybe it'll come to me later, once I get to know you more." He stands up, gathering the cardboard packaging from their late night meal together so he can recycle it over by the door. The cat follows at a sedate pace, and together they return to the workroom.

Part of Ari hopes that taking a look at the backdrop with fresh eyes will somehow give him all the answers, but as he stands there, hands on his hips, nothing comes to him. He sighs, shoulders drooping, and reaches up to rub his forehead.

The motion of his hand partially obscures the cat's path across the drop cloth, so Ari doesn't see where it's going until it's too late, and the cat has climbed into the box of paints, knocking a few bottles out from the depths of it as it circles and then settles. Ari lets out another sigh as he bends over to pick them up, and then he looks at the labels.

"Wait, aren't these for miniature painting?" he asks, holding the tiny bottles above his head to see inside them better. Within, the gold and silver metallic gleam catches the light and shines like chrome, and Ari's eyes widen behind his glasses. "This is exactly what it needs! I mean... probably gonna need to raid the main workshop's stash for more, but this is totally it! Great job, kitty!"

Ari reloads his paint pallete with the new colors and dips in a fine detailing brush -- after giving the cat lots of pets for its problem-solving skills -- before looking at the backdrop with those new eyes he'd been hoping to find. And then, with a big inhalation of air for courage, he begins.

Maybe some metallic paint and a helpful cat aren't magic at all. Maybe he should have gone back to the apartment he shares with his twin brothers hours ago, and gotten some rest, which is the normal, boring thing to do. But in this moment, in the literal witching hour, everything feels a little bit magical. And part of Ari suspects that this is only the beginning.