The Spin Doctor (putaspinonit) wrote in darkcarnivale, @ 2011-06-25 23:46:00 |
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Current mood: | working |
Who: Simon and his long suffering assistant, Molly
What: Daily check to ensure Simon's still breathing or hasn't swallowed enough coffee to sink a battleship
When: Saturday evening
Where: Simon's office
Rating: Low, I'd imagine
Status: Closed/Complete
Simon had spent the better part of a week on the phone or hunched over at the desk in the office that had been made his officially several years ago, negotiating the movement of the Carnival onto another town, this one slightly more resistant to the idea. Not uncommon, but still aggravating to say the very least.
Would it kill people to think outside the box and live a little? Apparently yes, yes it would.
Simon ended the call and with something resembling a weary sigh, all but pulling the Bluetooth out of his ear before scrubbing both hands over his face and then through his hair. It did nothing to tame the madness apparent atop of his head, but he had spent the better part of six hours working on posters, flyers, advertising and all sorts of things that made the Carnival go round.
He was in fact the unsung hero of the place, oh definitely, totally.
He loosened his tie and leaned forward to pick up a now empty cup of coffee. “Bloody hell,” he groused as a look at his magnificent coffee maker did reveal he was also out of on the fly ready to go coffee, which meant he would have to leave his office in the pursuit of caffeine. Not something he wanted to do at this given time considering he was waiting for a call and sure he could stick his hands free back in, but his ear had started to burn and mostly he’d learned that by this point he should remove for up to eight hours.
…Not that he did that, often enough that was.