treachererousolaf:
Olaf had just been working on the sets with the designers, however their work had been unsatisfactory and he sent them home an hour into their work. Perhaps he’d been hasty since they were renowned artists. He may have insulted them from a sudden change in his mood but they didn’t seem to comprehend his vision so he took it in his own hands. “A director, actor, costume designer, now set designer. My talents only grow.” He joked aloud to himself, but he was more frustrated than amused. He heard the door swing closed, it squeaked to a near halt from the rusted door frames, in desperate need of oil. He almost fell off the ladder but managed to regain his footing. “My, my, my, what a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Esme couldn’t help but let out a light laugh as she witnessed Olaf nearly fall from the ladder, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before calling out, “Are you quite alright? I must have frightened you.” Resisting the urge to grin, she stepped closer to the stage, taking off her navy-blue overcoat and draping it across one of the plush red chairs. “Oh, did you send the set designers home? Pity, their work was wonderful.” With a raise of the eyebrow, she said, “I thought I’d arrive early and run through my lines one last time before tonight’s show, but I see you’re a bit tied up right now.”
