Fire hazards Who: Hap and Cleo When: Evening Where: Ars Glesum
Glassblowing? Yeah that's different.</i> Hap remembered watching glassblowers at the Renaissance Fair and a big part of it was always the forge. Fire. Damn, why had he not been told about this? Of course all the permits had to be in order or it would not be up, but still! The principle of the matter said that when a shop where major heat was a big part of the business opened the fire chief should know. Sighing, he pushed open the door and walked in, eyes falling on the woman behind the counter who looked like she was going through paperwork. Her clothes may not have said it, but Hap thought she could be the one in charge. "Hey," he said in his easy way. He did not have to try, he just came off as friendly by nature and did not know how to change that unless he was trying to be intimidating. "Nice little operation you got here... actually blow the glass yourself?" Better way to start the conversation than 'I'm worried that you've got, what, a forge or something back there and might burn the city down without meaning to.' Good thing Tanya had browbeat manners into him.
Cleo gave a sort of distracted wave when she heard the door open, attention focused on the email she was finishing to a client for a potential commission. She'd done a few pieces for him back in South Africa and he was notoriously picky, exacting in every detail, and she always had to go over her correspondence to him with a fine-toothed comb. And she thought it was the artist who was supposed to be temperamental. She finished the email and sent it just as the man walked up, and she was able to close her laptop and push it aside in order to offer him a friendly smile.
"That's me," she agreed cheerfully, words flavored with the remnants of her native Afrikaans, so often mistaken for Australian. "Everything here's hand-blown or flame-worked, in the case of the smaller pieces. We take commissions, teach classes, give demonstrations. Feel free to take a look around; if you see anything that catches your eye, let me know. I'm happy to answer any questions you have, too."
An accent, that was a bit unexpected but Hap supposed it made sense. If someone from town had gone and opened a glassblowing shop then he knew word would have reached him sooner. "I'd love to look around," he said honestly. His interest in glasswork was not really personal so much as something carried over from his late wife. She would have loved this place, which meant that his daughter would. Idly, he wondered if Denise had already been by without telling him. "But really, I stopped by because I've got some probably pointless concerns." Man, the fire chief before would have reamed him for doing this... luckily he was the fire chief now and he doubted that the mayor was going to step in. "My name's Hap Sanderson, I'm the fire chief here and I just want to see how you work with the fire and all that. Make me feel a little better." His look was almost sheepish, but not quite.
"No problem," Cleo said, swiveling around in her chair to reach into the file cabinet behind the counter. She pulled out the folder with copies of all her building and code inspections, including the fire inspector that had come by prior to her opening, and laid it on the counter in front of him. "Everything's in order there," she said with a nod to the folder, "and I'll be happy to take you back into the hot shop whenever you're done looking at the paperwork. I don't actually work with live flame here; my furnaces are all electric and electronically temperature-controlled. They vent outside via the HVAC system." She wondered if he was working or if he'd just randomly stepped in off the street to check the place out. She held out her hand to shake. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Sanderson. I'm Cleo Locke."
Wow, this woman - Cleo as she named herself - was not bothered at all by his questions, even presented all of the paperwork for him to look at. Huh, not everyone was so accommodating when he was not even on the job. He nodded as she spoke, flipping through the papers and seeing that everything was perfectly fine. Just like I know it'd be. "I'd love to see that," Hap agreed as he accepted her hand and shook it firmly. "And call me Hap, Mr. Sanderson just sounds wrong coming from anyone whose not a kid or trainee. And it's not that I doubted everything was as it should be, just my thing to want to see things myself."
Cleo would've shown her passed inspections to anyone who'd been concerned; it wasn't as if there was any sensitive information on them (for which she would've requested to see a badge.) Gathering the folder back up, she slid it back into place, then reached under the counter for a release form. "Now, just because we don't work with live flame in the furnaces doesn't mean it's not still dangerous to the unwary," she cautioned. "Anyone who comes back in the hot shop has to sign a release form because we're working with both heat and chemicals as well as molten glass. Anyone who doesn't sign can observe from there," she said, nodding towards a large plexiglas window, currently covered with a shade. "It's just a standard form, basically that you enter at your own risk, you're informed of basic safety procedure, which is here--" She added a photocopied information sheet for him to read and initial, "--and agree not to hold Ars Glesum or any of its employees responsible should an accident happen." She'd come too far to be cleaned out by a lawsuit caused by an inattentive student. "If you want to look those over while I lock up, I'll take you back when you're done." With no one to watch the front, she had to (at least temporarily) close up while in the back and out of eye- and earshot of the storefront. While she had some inexpensive pieces on display, some were far too valuable to be left unattended.
Hap's jaw did not drop open when Cleo suddenly presented him with paperwork for him to sign. "Damn," he whistled, impressed as he started to read through what he had been given as she went to close up. His eyes skimmed over everything, basic things like she had said, before scrawling his initials in. Watching from behind a border was not going to let him see what he wanted to and it was not like he was scared of anything. She had said it was not actual fire and he was not even afraid of that, just very wary. And for good reasons. If fire was not dangerous then there would be no need for his job. "Alright then," he said, setting the papers aside. "Let's see how this whole thing works, Ms. Locke."
"Cleo, please," she said, leaving his release on the counter and leading him through the door to her studio. Her furnaces were going, and even though they were well insulated, it was still warm inside. She happened to like it that way. "Over here is the mixing room," she said, leading him to the small room filled with bins of sands, metals, and other ingredients necessary for glassmaking. The sand wasn't the type one could just pick up at the beach, of course; that was too full of impurities. But she had glass-quality silica sent to her. "We've got silica, soda ash, lime," she said, pointing out the bins as she named each one. "Then we've got the metals and other compounds for adding color and changing the viscosity and workability of the glass. Once I decide what mixture I want to use, I toss it all in here and mix it up." In the corner was an industrial drum mixer. "Then we take it to the pot in the first furnace to be melted down."
Hap followed Cleo through the door into the studio, reaching up to pull at his collar a little when the heat struck him. It was not bad, but it was nothing that he had expected... still not as bad when he was on the job. He nodded as she pointed everything out, sticking it in his memory as much for himself as for his daughter. She would be full of questions when she found out where he had been. "Pretty cool," he declared, honestly impressed. "Looks like you've got a good operation going here, Cleo. Got anything in the works now or just sort of waiting for someone to order it?" He was not sure why he was even asking, Hap did not really show interest in things the past few years. But this was a lot different than most things he was around.
"Oh, I make things as the mood strikes," Cleo said, "to keep stock in the showroom, and I take commissions as well. I'm about to start working on a new series, too; my agent's been bugging me for a new show. Let's head out to the furnace." She led the way out; a glassmaker's studio in modern days consisted of three furnaces, and she went to the first. "This is where the batch is melted down," she said, indicating the furnace but not touching it. The heat was much stronger so close to the pot, and she reached for two sets of dark goggles as she explained. "Glass melts at about... twenty-one hundred degrees," she told him, pausing momentarily to convert from Celsius for his benefit. She slid her goggles on and indicated that he should do the same, reaching for a fireproof glove.
Hap followed along willingly, reaching up to wipe drops of sweat from his forehead as the heat grew the closer they were to the furnace. He was willing to bet that when winter rolled around Cleo was not going to need to worry much about the heat. "I'll have to actually have a look around and see what you do." Sliding the goggles on over his head, Hap nodded to let her know they were secured. Not sure why I'm wearing these, he thought as he waited. Maybe Cleo intended on showing him what it looked like. There was not really a whole lot that he could say when he was just watching and listening.
Cleo pulled on her heatproof gear, checking to make sure Hap was close enough to see but not close enough to be burned by the incredible temperatures in the furnace. She pulled open the door, and the reason for the glasses suddenly became clear - the molten glass within glowed white hot, painful to look at without protective gear. "No problem," she said, reaching out to grab a pontil rod. "If I was blowing glass, I'd use a blowing rod," she told him, "but for this I'm just going to free-form something. Basically, you gather up what's called a slug, or a blob of glass, and can work it using various tools." She slid the rod into the pot, gathering up the glass, and shut the furnace door behind her. "It's viscous enough that as long as you keep the rod spinning to prevent any unevenness, it doesn't drip. And if it did, you'll notice the floors are concrete, so no fire issues." She grinned at him, spinning the pontil rod with the ease of long practice. "Want to make something?" she asked.
"Damn!" Hap exclaimed, stepping back a little at the wave of heat and glare that suddenly hit him. Now he saw why he had to have the goggles on, watching carefully as Cleo collected glass onto that rod and pulled it out, spinning the thing easily. "Uhhh, not me, noooo," he denied with a shake of his head, holding his hands up in front of him and taking half a step back. "Love to watch you at work though." And he meant it, he was honestly curious to see what she could do to make that hot blob of nothing into something beautiful. Hap had hands meant for games, guns and other things like that, not crafting anything. It would be as likely to end up on the floor exactly like it started. "What can you make out of that?"
"You get used to the heat," Cleo said with a laugh. "It's easier with all the gear on, too, and there are a couple of tools that act as heat shields." She contemplated the molten glass, still spinning to prevent lumps. "You can make nearly anything out of it, but in this case," she mused, "something simple. I can be here all night, but I'd imagine you've got a home to get back to at some point." She moved with the glass over to a large slab of steel on a table, using the rod to roll the glass against it. "This is called a marver," she said, nodding at the steel. "You use it to roll and shape your glass... in this case we want it narrower at the bottom..." She worked until she had the shape she was looking for, grabbing a paddle to smooth it even more, then cracked in a jack line to remove it from the pontil iron, switching it over to a second punty she picked up from the rack. "This way I can work on the other end," she explained as she switched it.
Grabbing a pair of tweezers, she plucked at the molten glass, smoothed and shaped, and in a few moments had a more or less apple-shaped bit of glass. "That was quick and dirty," she told him, nodding towards the second furnace. "Usually while you're working, it takes so long that the glass cools and becomes unworkable. That's where the second furnace comes in - it's called the glory hole, and yes, I've heard all the jokes. That's where you can heat a piece you're working on until it's workable again. When it's done, like this bit, we put it in the third furnace there. It's called the annealer, and it gradually cools the glass down to room temperature in graduations to prevent cracking." She suited words to action and set the piece in the annealer, setting the temperature program, and set the rods aside. "And that's basically it," she said, spreading her hands and taking off her gear. "I've got a cold shop over there for the final work on a piece, smoothing, engraving, polishing, but that's nothing heat-involved." She smiled at him, cleaning up the few tools left out. "Any questions?"
It was a rather lot of information for Hap to take in, especially since he had never been a particularly fast learner if it was not a game of some sort. Though he did snort at the name of the second furnace, unable to help himself, and mentally he blamed the fact that he had two teenagers, not wanting to admit to himself that he was just a little bit not all grown up in his own ways sometimes. But he did do rather well at processing everything that Cleo was telling him, murmuring some of it to himself to try and help it stick. When Cleo started putting everything away he shook his head. "Nah, you've got me pretty convinced that this is all safe and pretty damn cool... hot, yeah." Describing something this warm as cool was just wrong. Reaching up, Hap tapped his goggles. "Do I get to take these off now? Bet I look like an idiot, worse than when I've got my hat on." Lord but he hated wearing that thing, had no idea why anyone would like looking at people in them. "You've been really nice about all this, Cleo, pretty grateful."
"My pleasure, Hap," Cleo said easily, chuckling. "Yes, you can take those off. Once the glass is gone, we don't need them. But you don't look any worse in them than I do; thankfully glassmaking isn't an industry where fashion is required." She led the way out of the hot shop and back into the cooler storefront/gallery area, locking the studio door behind them. "So, do you do this often?" she said lightly, teasing only a little bit. "Wander into random shops to see how they work? Or was mine on your schedule for today?" If so, he worked surprisingly late into the evening. But then, she didn't really know much about what fire chiefs did.
"Phew," Hap exclaimed, taking the goggles off and exiting the hot area gratefully. Used to heat he was, but that did not mean he truly enjoyed it. There were limits for everything. He did grin sheepishly at the question, rubbing at the back of his neck before shrugging. "Nah, not really," he admitted. "Not even on the job. I was just doing some wandering and saw your shop. Since I'd never been before I was curious." Truth right there. "I've seen glassblowing at fairs and wondered if you did it the same, with forges and all that. Glad to see you don't. And glad that you showed me around, damn fine place." His natural smile eased across his face. "So where is it you're from? Can't place the accent."
"Oh, no," Cleo said, "that's medieval. Like all arts, techniques have come a long way since then. Back then, they had to post a watch around the furnaces all night when trying to melt down a batch in order to keep the fire going; it took so long to heat the sand to the required temperature they couldn't risk it going out. Nowadays it doesn't take half so long to get it going, not with the electric furnaces." She smiled her thanks for the compliment, reaching down to the minifridge she'd fit under the counter and pulled out two small bottles of water, placing one on the counter next to him in silent offer. "I'm not surprised," she said, cracking hers open and taking a small drink. "Most people guess Australia or New Zealand, but I'm actually from South Africa. Cape Town, to be specific. What about you?" she asked. "Are you local or did you end up here from somewhere else?"
If Hap had been like a lot of men he might have been embarrassed at being so out of touch, but he just took the knowledge and nodded, storing it away for the next time he needed it. Made sense that glass-blowing would evolve just like every other art. Gotta stop taking what I see at fairs and stuff as how it all is. He accepted the water with a quick, "thanks" before undoing the lid and taking a gulp. Felt nice after the heat. "Ohh, awesome, African!" Even if it was South Africa. His parents had had some pretty intense views on that part of the continent when he was growing up, but for the most part, Hap did not share them. Was not their fault it was like that, anymore than it was anyone else in any other country's. "My dad came in from Kenya when he was just a kid and doesn't like to talk about what it was like there very much. But me, I'm just from good ol' Ann Arbor. Been living here in Scarlet Oak for a good fourteen years now. It was my..." His voice trailed off and he took another drink of water, shaking his head to get rid of the thought. "Wife's idea, she loved it here."
Cleo blinked slightly at his reaction, faintly amused but hiding it. It was the first time she'd gotten a reaction like that; most everyone else either wanted her to sit and listen to their opinion on the country's politics or wanted to hear hers. The truth was - and that was something she couldn't explain - that she had been very isolated from the country for the first ten years of her life, and so focused on school and her art that even when living in the city, she hadn't really become part of it. Most lamiae had the same problem; keeping their secret required them to stay so sequestered that they were outsiders wherever they went. "To be honest," she said, "it wasn't that bad there for me. But then again, my family was fairly well-off." It was harder for mixed-race people like Cleo and her sister, neither white enough nor black enough for any of the two dominant groups.
"Fourteen years, wow," she said, sipping at her water. "I don't know if I'd be able to stay here that long, but I think a few years at least would be manageable. I like that it's quiet, but close enough to a bigger city that you can sort of get the best of both ends. Is your wife originally from the area?" she asked. "Or did you just sort of pick it randomly?"
Hap nodded, having never actually thought that it had been bad for her. He really did not pay enough attention to things like that, though a part of his mind informed him that Deangelo would be extremely interested in someone from South Africa. His son took up the interest in his "home country" that Hap never had. "Glad it wasn't too bad for you, some of the stories paint a not-pretty picture." Well, he did listen even if he did not take any sort of stance.
The question was innocent enough, completely reasonable, but Hap still felt a little something in him shut off and curl up. It did not show in his face or voice, he had learned to keep that from happening. "No, she was from Ann Arbor too, but we didn't pick it randomly. She started doing some community work here and loved it so much that it just made sense for raising kids and all. People loved her. Sometimes I think it's her fault that I ended up fire chief more than my own. But you're right, this place is good for pretty much everything. Almost everyone can fit right in like some sort of puzzle piece no matter what they are."
Cleo noticed the past tense but wasn't sure if it was death or divorce that was its cause; it certainly wasn't her place to ask, after all, and his face didn't give anything away. Cleo could scent fear, anger, pheromones released as biological advertisement or warning, but grief wasn't part of that chemical language. "So you've got kids," she said instead. "How old?" She hadn't yet decided if she wanted kids or not; with over twice the average human lifespan, however, she had time before making her decision. It would probably necessitate a return to South Africa, where she knew of a few enclaves where she might meet an eligible bachelor - unless she got lucky and found someone here. But really, what were the odds?
"No matter what they are?" she echoed, faintly questioning his choice of words. Not so long ago she might have assumed he meant in terms of background or career choice, but since the Light of May, such terms gained so much more nuance. "I've noticed this seems to have an almost unusually high concentration of the supernatural. It's quite interesting from an outside perspective."
Good, Cleo was focusing in on the kids part of his statement rather than anything else. Hap had too many people who worried over his state after his wife's death to want another. "Boy who's 18 and a girl who's 16. She'd love this place, she's all into art and stuff, and he'd love to hear about South Africa. Big on every single going on back in Africa, especially if he can get it first-hand." If he told Deangelo that the owner of the glassblowing shop was from South Africa then Hap would put his money on his son being there in fifteen minutes flat.
"Uhh, yeah, no matter what." Hap had grown so used to being around people who just accepted that people probably were not what they looked like that he forgot newcomers might not be so easy-going about it. Not that all of the natives were, he amended the thought with a bit of a mental sigh. He had needed to put down more than one fight at the station that had erupted since that Light of May thing. Knuckle-headed rookies trying to prove things did nothing but wind up with a headache and cleaning detail for a week. "Were-thing or human or psychic all fit pretty well and it gives us that unique flavor. Why, you not big on supes? Or you come here 'cause of all of them and that vampire bar they've been advertising like it's Christmas?"
"Well, feel free to send them over anytime," Cleo said. "She's old enough if she wants to take a couple of classes, and I never mind just having a chat." She wasn't sure she'd be able to answer his boy's questions; Africa was a big continent with a wide variety of cultures and tribes she knew very little about, but she'd answer what she could.
She smiled at him. "Neither, actually," she said. "I was teaching at an art school in Washington and received an invitation to teach a few classes at the university in Ann Arbor when my residency was up. I was more interested in staying in America and seeing some new places than going back home, so I bought this place. I'll start teaching at the university in the fall." She could have mentioned she could turn into a snake and passed herself off as a were, but why give even that much when she could pass as human? She couldn't scent anything non-human on him, so he shouldn't be able to scent her.
"Will do for sure," Hap grinned. He would even be willing to let Denise take classes because it meant that she had something to do that was not getting herself into trouble with those damn boys she was forever giggling about. Plus if she got to start in on making pretty things then they would liven up the house, if she was any good at it. Sure she would be. Hap had that sort of confidence in his kids.
Oh, so she was a professor or something in addition to all that. Hap had never had a problem with them even if most of them made him feel like he was a little too slow because he had not carried on his education. "That's gotta be interesting, teaching at a university, meet tons of different people." Kind of like living in Scarlet Oak, only way more diverse because the people changed all the time. Probably never got stagnant. Then there was the whisper of something in his ears, like a very distant voice saying something, but when he turned his head to hear it better it was gone. Damn I hate that, gives me the chills. "Teaching something artistic? 'cause of this and all, not because I don't think you know nothing else." Sticking his foot in his mouth, now that was something Hap was unused to.
"I hope so," Cleo said, nodding. "I've never taught at a large university before; the previous art school where I taught was very small and residencies never last too long. This will be a new experience; I'm pretty fresh out of school myself." She watched his head turn, wondering, but chalked it up to some phantom noise from the furnaces that she'd grown so used to. She never noticed the regular noises of operation anymore, only the sounds that didn't belong. "I'm teaching glassmaking," she said with a nod. "I'm not really a professor professor; I have a MFA, so I'm more or less qualified to teach art but nothing else." She shrugged, smiling. "It's only a few classes, nothing extensive."
Now was not the time to be hearing things. So Hap forced himself to listen very closely to what Cleo was saying before nodding. "I'm sure you'll have a good time, I hear the university's pretty good and they've got good sports teams." Of course he knew that, having grown up in the city and gone to a bunch of games while he was at it. Wolverines all the way. "But I'd better be getting back, kids'll be wondering why their old man's taking so long and might come looking for me. Don't really want them out on the streets after dark with all the stuff that's been going down." He would be damned if one of his kids became those demon victims. "Thanks again for showing me around, if there's anything I can do to pay you back for it then you let me know and consider it done."
"I'm excited to see the campus when it's in full swing," Cleo agreed. She nodded and held out her hand again for him to shake. "Again, it was a pleasure, Hap, and it was great to meet you. Have a safe trip back." Demons weren't something she found herself all that worried about just yet; she'd been unmolested so far and had a fairly formidable defense in her natural form. Demons could be killed; that meant demons were susceptible to her venom. A normal black mamba could kill a man in less than an hour with only the tiny amount of venom they injected during a bite; Cleo injected significantly more when biting someone in either of her two humanoid forms. "I appreciate the offer," she told Hap. "I'll see you around."
Accepting her hand, Hap gave it a firm shake. He would be safe, of that he had no doubts, surely a demon could not be that impressive. "You take care too, Cleo. If my kids stop by and get annoying just let me know and I'll make sure they mind their manners." He grinned and walked towards the door, waving over his shoulder as he ducked back out, the heat there not much better than it had been back by the furnaces. At least he was a lot more sure this new place was safe too.