#workinboystm

[ensembletm]

@workinboystm sent " don't just sit there, move. "

she hadn't meant to be in his , or anyone's way , as she sits on the stairs of the old starlight theater. she's made an arrangement with the janitorial staff , that they'll let her in half an hour before working hours to practice with the old , slightly out of tune piano in the theater. it's a deal she's eternally grateful for , trying to hone her singing skills so that next audition she can really blow anyone the director away. she isn't exactly expecting said director to , well , be here. his words are like adrenaline straight to the heart ( and fear to the gut ).

" i'm so sorry , sir , " she scrambles and scurries , like a mouse caught with an illicit crumb , and stubs her toe hard on a step. wincing , she stands there , pressed as close to the railing as she can as to not be in his way. she hates him. but she hates herself more. there's a moment where she considers just slipping away with the hopes he'll forget all about her. but her need to be helpful , for him to like her , is too strong. " it's not open yet , professor hidgens sir. "

[authorizedtm]

The box that John produces is simple and unassuming, a black cardboard box no larger than a baseball that he slides across the table to @workinboystm. "Belated Christmas present," he says by way of explanation. "It was meant to be done before the holidays, but there were some delays, and then I was meant to pick it up but allowed myself to be distracted by... recent events. "

Inside the box sits a vintage watch, carefully restored from nearly a century of passing hands and abuse. The brass fittings are polished to a mirror shine and the glass replaced with great care. "I won't take offense if it isn't your style, but I thought if nothing else you might appreciate the scientific novelties of a radium watch. Give it an hour or so in the sun and the glow should return, or so I'm told."

[gumshoetm]

closed: @workinboystm where: pasqualli's

Malone sat at a back booth within Pasqualli's, folder sat on the table next to him and a plate of spaghetti in front of him. The basket of breadsticks halved and on their way to needing a refill on their all you can eat rule. He's barely a few bites into the pasta dish when he spots Henry Hidgens entering the building. He lifts a hand as a way to get his attention and flashes a grin as he waits for the man to walk over; fork poking and twisting into the spaghetti to get another bite. He pops it into his mouth and hums a greeting as Hidgens slides into the opposite side of the booth. He doesn't say anything as he chews-- his ma had taught him better than that, but he does slide the folder over before setting his fork down.

He grabs at the cloth napkin folded on the table and lifts it up to dab at his mouth. He lowers it back down and waits a beat for Hidgens to open the folder-- no pictures inside, not yet at least. Instead there's a business card, that's it. A single one business card. All that build up for something so simple. He speaks though, his bite of food now dropped to his stomach, "I found him." He gives a small shrug and leans forward slightly, hand raising to come over and tap against the business card, "Now, that there is what I believe to be his place of business in Vermont. It's a brewery and bar." He quirks a brow, "Classy, right?" On the card itself is the name of the place, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗟, and Chad's name in wonderfully picked font-- if you asked him.

[staranchortm]

closed: @workinboystm where: hidgens' mansion

In Henry's lounge area that could be considered a billiards or smoke room, Dan was seated in a velvet cushioned chair with his arms resting on the sides. In one hand is a glass tumblr with some whiskey poured into it and in the other is a page he's turning from a binder, the binder resting on a small circle table between him and where Hidgens is sitting. It's Henry's pride and joy, what lies in the binder, and he's entrusted Dan to read through it. It's an honor, really. He's heard the pitch countless times in various forms, both sober and not so sober-- not that Henry is one to get that drunk. This was, however, the first time Dan was privy to the actual script of it all.

He knew Henry was waiting to hear his thoughts and Dan had plenty to say, but he was going to be kind and polite about it. The truth was: it was a good story, moving and profound. He liked the storytelling Henry had and the way it showed his love for those boys out on the ol' stomping ground. It was clear they'd meant the world to Henry, which is why rather than speak on the script directly... he asks a different question, eyes pulling from the page he's just turned, "I don't think you've ever told me what happened to your friends," he lets the page fall open and looks at the first written line, continuing his ask, "Do I find out at at the end and have to continue to learn or...?"

[beaniestm]

who: emma & hidgens ( @workinboystm ) where: hidgens' mansion

there had been a special connection emma had made with her biology professor. she started college in august and had somehow become a star pupil in professor hidgens' eyes. emma had never been that to an adult . . . which was weird to say as an adult herself, but still. for some reason, hidgens believed in her, though emma figured it was just because she was enough of a schmuck to pick up his grocery orders and deliver them to his house.

it was after the new year and emma had her coat on over her beanie's uniform. as she ascended the long stone stairs that led to the front door, her arms were starting to burn as the plastic handles dug into her forearms, and her tired frame from a day's work was shivering from the cold. she shuffled to be able to press the doorbell with three quick buzzes before calling out to the security system, " hidgens! it's me! emma! i've got your shit -- i mean, your groceries! i have your groceries! "