2024-09-20: BWV 639 idol(public: bool deal; private: stageSetup(); emotion: Bridgeburner(0,1);)
- Log: 2024-09-20: BWV 639 idol(public: bool deal; private: stageSetup(); emotion: Bridgeburner(0,1);)
- Cast: Leila Misakiyama, Yuta Hibiki
- Where: Coffee Shop, Nouvelle Tokyo
- OOC - IC Date: Sept 20 UC0095
- Summary: Inspiration comes from within. Refinement, unfortunately, comes from outside. A girl reaches to a person who knows more, and attains their assistance in exchange for payment. The ways of the world subside to monetary necessities.
<Pose Tracker> Leila Misakiyama has posed.
Leila doesn't even bother to call the number up. This was the number she was given on the consultation card. It was up to them to have texting capabilities on their work phone whatever. Granted, doing so on a phone while jugging three million possibilities and ideas was something of an inevitability; Even if she had most of this figured out, there was the final bits.
leileileitmotif: you're by the appointment or whatever, right
leileileitmotif: i got a job
leileileitmotif: critique
leileileitmotif: coffee place we went to last time
leileileitmotif: [ATTACHMENT: MoneyForAGoodCupOfCoffee.link]
And even Crisis Alexis wasn't being of any use. All talk, no critique or ideas. The very banality of it was disappointing. 'Anything is good!' Geh. Being a rubber duck, more than anything else.
Which was why she was here in the first place, thumbing over the rim of a coffee mug in the midday heat. No one bothered to check up, even with a second seat brazenly open in the other end. (By design. Saying that someone was coming over, get me a drink, and giving the appearance that something was going to happen was the best way to deter drive-by questioning. It was true, in a sense.)
...Tapping finger against cheek. There wasn't anything in relation to preparing herself. Just the usual girl in some decent clothes, gazing over at the wall opposite of the coffee shop proper, the communal event board plastered with posters, festivals, releases, and other things of Tokyo's citylife. And in there was the poster of Bullton.
"...Next week, huh." Was it cutting it close? Technically. Did it matter? Not really.
<Pose Tracker> Yuta Hibiki has posed.
Yuta had been, by coincidence, been drinking a cup of coffee as their very common work-related mobile phone vibrated. What had they been doing? Organizing files, mostly. As Yuta had mentioned to Akane and Rikka while coincidently meeting them in their vacation, the jobs for insurance, construction and related issues had cropped up in the past couple weeks. Thinking this would be one more of those, Yuta wasn't all too worried as they checked up the notifications on their laptop.
This message was not like the others. Someone with far higher profile (or future higher profile, Yuta was betting) had decided to say hello.
"Well, let's see this..." A tap, another, as Yuta opened the profile they had on Leila Misakiyama, to double check their information even though they had committed everything to memory. "Not one for many words or pleasantries, is she? I'll keep that in mind."
Of course, this was a job they were going to accept. Building connection and rapport to one of our new and rising star and kaiju criminal was not an opportunity they could afford to pass up. They had yet to meet the girl's partner in crime, but they'd likely cross paths, eventually. A critique job, though... Given the timing, could it be related to Leila's upcoming concert? No, this would be calling 'right on time' a stretch.... right? So it was likely something else.
SSSS.Yuta: You'd be correct, Ms. Misakiyama.
SSSS.Yuta: I'll see you there in twenty- no, twenty three minutes and we can discuss the job in detail.
Formal as required by professionalism, but to the point as to not bother the girl with empty pleasantries. Now, what should they wear to the venue.... clock was ticking.
<Pose Tracker> Leila Misakiyama has posed.
Another sip of the cup, arms crossed as she leaned back on that same chair. Muttering to herself about this and that, silently, passively accepting the atmosphere of the coffee shop. She's not complaining. Just a bit of discomfort at waiting, thumbing through her phone in the meantime. Checking on things. Browsing things. A few scrolls through a few places.
"...Junius Seven's got everyone riled up." Another mutter to herself. Coordinators. It was all the Coordinators's fault, huh? The reasoning was sound enough. Kind of. Mostly. And yet... "Not all of them." She's one person in the crowd trying to do something. What's to say it's not the same over there? ...That's a dangerous mindset in the wrong ideas if gone down far enough.
And yet.
leileileitmotif: you're on the timer if youre that exact
leileileitmotif: [ScreenshotOfTimerApp-00:22:39.jpg]
Fine, she can whittle away those twenty minutes. This coffee wasn't going to stay hot for long. Another sip. A sigh. A squirm. Twenty minutes was long. Twenty minutes was short. Her gaze lazes to watching outside, people watching. A minute. Another minute.
She pulls out her handbook. Popping open the front, flicking to a new page, and scribbling in a few words. Another web, another font of mindlessly rolling things over in her head. They felt more...concrete nowadays. No complaints.
<Pose Tracker> Yuta Hibiki has posed.
Honestly, as the second message came in, Yuta had not even bothered to check it - though they've marked the message as read just so Leila would not feel ignored. Twenty three minutes was already pushing it a bit - they had not been that close and they couldn't look like they've rushed there either. Professionalism and trust were how a freelancer survived, after all.
...not five minutes had passed before Yuta was out of the door.
One subway. Slightly crowded but on time. Bless the punctuality and public methods of transportation this city offered. It's one of the things that they missed a lot, depending on where they were abroad. Needing to rent a car to go anywhere was a terrible way to live.
Checking up their work tablet for time, they were going to be okay on time.... by a minute. Still, there were files to be filled, signed and claimed, no time to be idle.
Powerwalking, then slowing down and straightening themself up as they approached the meeting place, a Bullton poster distracted them in what costed precious five seconds.... but as they opened up the door, they still had 16 seconds to spare. Besides, they had already notified the staff ahead of time while on the way, to stall Leila for a bit if necessary, as soon as she told Yuta where they'd be meeting. It was important to be prepared for eventualities.
"Luckily, I happened to be in the city next over, Miss Misakiyama." Compared to last time where Leila had seen Yuta in an office lady outfit, this time the youngster with strikingly long red-hair had been dressed in something a bit more casual - a nice pair of grey hiking boots with a navy blue motif, jeans, a not-too-form-but-also-definitely-not-too-shabby short-sleeved light violet shirt. Something a college student might be wearing for class, which probably gave them a 'younger' feel compared to last time. Also. No glasses.
Taking their seat, with a business smile, Yuta nodded to the Master to ask for their usual, no need to exchange words (when they had already informed they'd be coming beforehand). "So, what brings you to call for my business? Does it happen to be related to a certain upcoming event?"
<Pose Tracker> Leila Misakiyama has posed.
A few more scribbles. There's already a bit of mind-meandering, grumbling to herself about this and that. Watching the world pass by outside, the stillness of the cafe's insides serving as a respite from everything. Languid. Quiet. A finger tapping at the table, the sole representation of impatience. At least they were being punctual. God knows the amount of people who weren't. God knows they're lucky, not having to think about the things she's thinking right now.
A few more raps of the table. Something serving a beat. Write that down. Muttering to herself. Another few mutters, draining that cup of coffee down. It's lukewarm enough at this point, the barely warm liquid barely serving its purpose; More for the caffiene than the actual taste.
Another order. Some pastries. Another cup of coffee: Dark roast. Black.
And she waited. Feeling the time tick by, a mental solitude that felt expansive enough as it was, the infestation of the self digging into the ground. Waiting. Tapping. There's a click of cremaic together, the next cup of coffee steaming in front of her.
A sip. Bitter. Perfect.
Another few minutes. They're blending together now. Further, further, further. She's not about to leave for something she setup. Besides, she paid for this. There's a financial obligation (and leaving a rumor of standing someone up is bad).
"About time." There's no mention about the exact timing. Deigning to say it, there's only her picking up the cup, taking another sip. And another. Ack, a bit hot. Setting the cup back down...
"Ah? I'm not going to ask how you know-" There's a flick of a gaze outside. Right at the poster. "-But that's the long and short of it." Another sip.
"Complete confidentiality. What's your rate?" The fact that they'd put themselves in a different outfit was already promising enough. The variety...At least, some gut instincts were right once in a while.
<Pose Tracker> Yuta Hibiki has posed.
So it had been about the concert after all. Color them surprised. Yuta permitted themself to wonder a bit if her last outfit had been put together on the night before the event, or something. "That would depend on the nature of the job. Some things are easier to charge by hour, others are easier to charge by task. Yet others are out of my area of expertise, though there's no shortage of knowledge I can't borrow from others if it's something I can't do."
A pause. The waiter was coming up with Yuta's own choice of coffee. Since they had already been on caffeine at their hideout, they've opted for something lighter this time. A double shot of espresso with whipped cream on top. A bite-sized mint-chocolate to sweeten it up. A custom they picked up on a trip to the southern hemisphere. "This one person company prizes itself in leaving no job unfulfilled, after all." A slow sip to parch the throat.
"What exactly would you be needing my critique for? Choreography? Backlighting?" Crossing their legs, shifting position to rest back against the chair slightly. Appreciating the caffeine. "If it's not something you'd rather say out loud, feel free to send it up as a request." They added as Leila mentioned confidentiality, placing their work tablet on the table.
"Freelancing.... like I do operates on trust, after all." They had already quoted numbers for those examples they mentioned and a couple others, including variations in case Leila would be hiring them as an individual, as an agency, or as a company. She could find those in a pdf file, sent to the number she texted them from. There was also mention of a potential urgency fee, depending on how fast she needed those, given her deadline. Detailed, explainable, digested, with no extraneous or superfluous information. A document Yuta had prepared on their way here, just in case.
All in all, if Leila had researched the market for these, the prices displayed would be somewhat above average given they had no official credentials for most of these things, but also certainly under average when compared to prices of workers who had said credentials. A tenue line that priced their work as a 'qualified level for personalized work but discounted due to lack of recognized certifications.'.
<Pose Tracker> Leila Misakiyama has posed.
It's never easy. Running through the options she concluded in her head, most of them brushed by the wayside when the answer to the obvious was 'all of them, subject to change'. There's an annoyed click of the tongue at that, sipping on her comparatively bland coffee in response. Look at them, going so 'fancy' with accessorizing the coffee and scuh...Glancing away, eyes flicking down to the work tablet.
"One person company?" A half-snort. "Can you fire yourself and give yourself unemployment coverage?" An absentminded barb as she glances over the tablet, staring at it. It takes no time at all for her to pull it across the table, tapping away.
Numbers swirl a bit in her mind. The rigidity. The sheer sense of monetary capital. Leaning in, tapping at the tablet a bit more before setting it down and sliding it back. The opened notes app is entirely concentrated on one thing:
All the things to help put on a show. But mostly, the outfit involved.
"Can't believe it." She could believe it. Freelancing operating on trust and moving things beyond the law. Was what she was about to do illegal? Not in the slightest. There's no laws against an idol concert. Afterwards? Well. She's left that part out of the idea-sphere entirely; This was about the idol concert, not the aftermath of it. "Still, at least this one's a per-job one."
There's a pull-out of her own handbook. Ripping a few pages off of it, sliding them over. Line after line of outfit ideas, how to best give the tone she's going for, the idea, the force of someone bursting onto the scene and claiming the spotlight for one reason or another. The scribbles are all outward; Focused on feelings, waves, lines, color, and the setlist underneath.
"...You'll get your up-front fee when we leave." The code for accepting the terms given. She's read through them.
<Pose Tracker> Yuta Hibiki has posed.
Bless that the Master wasn't serving any Frapp monstrosity if a little whipped cream on espresso counted as 'accessorizing'. Yuta was calmly nibbling on their little bite sized chocolate mint piece while Leila went on with her evaluation.
"I could fire myself, but also, I'd have to pay the associated fees, the penalties, and the unemployment benefits would come out of company pocket." They started answering her barb faithfully, citing a couple laws and details. "Namely, the ones on these jeans I'm wearing right now." Of course, they added with a hint of a smirk.
Still, for a rushed proposal with little prep, Yuta was confident that their 'rates' would be accepted. All in all, there was a certain logic to this, emotional as it was. A minute, two. Oh, they ran out of coffee. Right as they were about to raise their hands for another cup, Leila grumbled as she had apparently come to a decision of her own. Their red hair swayed as they once again shifted, accepting the ripped pages, commiting them to memory, by the intensity of their gaze. If nothing else, and ulterior motives aside, they did take the job seriously.
It would be their job to translate the burst of emotion on those pages to something visible, tangile, palpable, and appealing, so Leila could have her scene on stage. It was easy for someone to be analytical, but not always the optimal solution was the best answer to a problem, and that too had to be taken in consideration during analysis.
"It's a pleasure to be working with you, Leila. Now, if we could discuss what's your budge for each of these parts..." Yuta was already pointing out and making questions based on the girl's sketches. They'd need a while more discussing details, still, but a deal had been made this day.