Carnival: Sadie M & Damian W + Misha B + Open
Though no part of her outward appearance would betray the notion, more and more Sadie was getting the impression that the two standing in front of her were a bit like a cup of coffee. Damian, from what she could suss, was the base. He was strong, sure, maybe a bit dark—though that thought felt like it was reaching a fair bit. She'd just met the fellow, had been late, and he probably had a whole host of better things to be doing with himself rather than taking the time out to listen to her play. After all, from what Misha had told her about the place, it wasn't like it hurt for acts none. Which, then, naturally, brought her thoughts to the very same man; the one she thought was likely the cream and sugar in the analogy. The yin to the yang, sweet to the salty.
To say though that Misha wiped all the chill out of her tiny bones t'would not have been true. It helped for sure, but Sadie still found herself feeling smaller than her average if only because...well, she'd never met someone who seemed so unmovable before. Unnerved her it did, if only just a bit, and reminded her a bit of that looming man who'd been in her life — the one for which there simply had been doing no right by. She tried to tell herself not to read too much into it, to hold her darn fingers still, to not fidget with the strings when a fresh cigarette was lit and the pause between words felt long enough that whole Universes could have been born and their suns died in the span. She managed it even, though the effort was that which would probably require a nap when the day was finally done. Heck, maybe even an early bed time...
'Course that was right up until the point he'd gone forward with bits about tax forms and that someone would have use for her. That there brought a new surge of bright lights, all twinkling and circling her form like the ones people got on timers for trees around Christmas time, back with it. There was even a moment where her mouth sprang open so quick it made her toes inch just a bit closer to his desk. Thankfully, this time, Sadie carefully caught the rapid string of babbled sentiment behind a quick chomp of teeth. She really didn't think it'd go over well at all.
"If it's all the same, sir, nothing working with being lit on fire t'would be about the only preference I have to voice just now. 'Could —" She bit the words back again, stopping herself from vaulting into some fast paced, long explanation that she could get over and work past it. He'd said not to give him backstory and so, she wouldn't. Instead she let her eyes flit back to Misha and then to Damian again.
"Could I get pointed in the direction of who it'd be best to talk to?" She could guess and wander, but that at least seemed a reasonable compromise between where the first word of the original thought was going, and something a bit more reasonable and what seemed most pertinent to the here and now. "Unless you think that'd be Dietre, and then I'll be on my way there next." Because, at the very least, Sadie would hold fast to the notion that her brightness was an unwavering thing and that. If nothing else, for right now, she'd make it look like she wouldn't be breathing the biggest sigh of relief when she walked out of that tent.