|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 8, 2007 23:10:54 GMT -5
Mirela stepped into the theatre, blinking a bit to get adjusted to the change of light. She walked slowly into the lobby, wondering where she was supposed to go. She needed a job-desperately, even though she probably couldn't sing or act. Who was is she was supposed to ask for? Sebastien...Pom... Pom... Pom what? Pomeroy! That was it!
She made her way to the lobby desk, "May I... may I speak to Monsieur Sebastien, s'il vous plait?" she asked no one in particular in her most polite voice.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sébastien Pomeroy on Feb 9, 2007 17:52:38 GMT -5
A man, elderly in age, turned from the table he was standing by. The elderly man had a short, grayish white beard and mostly balding hair, and he dressed in a black suit with a bow tie beneath his chin. As he searched the area, he noticed through his dark gray eyes that there was a young lady there that he did not recognize. This was very common though. Many customers enjoyed coming in during the week to reserve tickets for later shows, but they usually didn't ask specifically for his name.
He gazed over to the young girl that he believed had called his name, and began walking in her direction. While she was facing the lobby desk, the elderly man walked toward her from her left where he had been designing one of the display tables that held many brochures for the various acts that went on at A La Amour Theater, but he could always return to that later. It needn't officially be completed until before he left for the night, so he would work on it after he spoke with the girl. After listening to the young lady behind the desk reply to her, "You may," in a soft and sweet voice, the owner of the theater smiled and responded, "I am Monsieur Sébastien."
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 9, 2007 19:33:26 GMT -5
Mirela jumped slightly and turned towards the voice. She gave a slight bow with her head, making sure not to lower her head too far. She pulled her hat down again, tucking her bright copper hair behind her ears and smiling politely. "Bonjour, Monsieur." she said, her French holding a thick Romanian accent. "I am here about the sign I saw near the bakery."
She continued, "I-I would like a job, if there is one available, though I do not think I can sing or act, I've never had any training or experience," she gave him a sheepish look. "But I can do manual labor, I'm a good worker. I can carry costumes and boxes, anything you need. I'll take any pay you offer, and I won't complain, I swear." She promised, her green eyes large, she would have been pleading if her pride had allowed her, but it didn't. "Anything you need me to do, I can do it." She said firmly, willing him to hire her.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sébastien Pomeroy on Feb 9, 2007 19:41:58 GMT -5
The man's smile faded away when he heard about the sign. Turning his head toward the young woman behind the lobby desk, he asked, "We still have a sign by the bakery?"
Whenever she noticed Sébastien was speaking to her, the young lady snapped her head in his direction. Alerted, she looked down at the desk and flipped through some papers. "Oh, I'm sorry, Monsieur Pomeroy." Her eyes lifted from the papers she was flipping through and turned them toward the owner. "I forgot to have Damon take it down."
Sébastien sighed and let his gaze fall to the ground before moving it back toward the young lady. Though he hadn't any need of more employees, it seemed that this one truly was in need of the job. As she had explained that she had no acting or singing experience, he wasn't exactly sure what he would have her do. The elderly man's eyes moved from the young lady toward some of the display tables. With a slight nod, he responded without turning his head toward her, with a question. "What is your name? And how often would you plan to be working for me?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 9, 2007 19:50:08 GMT -5
Mirela's hope sank when she heard the exchange between the man and the lobbyist, then rose again when he asked her name, "I am Mirela Rahela, I can work any number hours you need me to, at any time of the day." She said firmly. "Up to fourteen hours a day." she added as an afterthought. "Is that good enough? I can work longer if you need me."
|
|
|
|
Post by Sébastien Pomeroy on Feb 9, 2007 19:59:54 GMT -5
Nodding slowly as he listened, the owner continued to ponder what he could have her do. There were many occasions when the staff in various places wouldn't show up days that he needed them and then claimed the next day that they were sick. Having an extra who could fill in the spots that needed to be filled would possibly prove useful.
Sébastien turned to the young lady behind the desk once more. "Have Madam Rahela fill out the information I need." She quickly searched through a different pile of papers momentarily while Sébastien moved his attention to Mirela. "When would you like to start? I would like your usual days to be on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then I will let you know what other nights I may need you."
As the young lady found the sheet of paper she was looking for, she lifted it up and put it on the front part of the desk as well as a pen for the new girl to use. It asked for basic information such as 'Name', 'Birth date', and all of the other necessities that Sébastien would need in case of certain emergencies, check-ups, etc.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 9, 2007 20:16:55 GMT -5
"I can start as soon as possible." Mirela said, nodding, and she went to the desk and started filling out the form, Name.. Mirela Rahela. Birth date.. August eighteenth, eighteen sixty-eight... This is easy, mother sure complained a lot about so little. she thought with a light laugh. When she had finished, she turned to Sebastien, "Anything else I need to do?" she asked, not sure what to do with the paper.
|
|
|
|
Post by Damon Walker on Feb 9, 2007 23:10:42 GMT -5
A young man completely clothed in black walked in through the entrance door. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses and over his long sleeved black shirt, a long black leather duster swayed. As the door closed behind him, he allowed the duster to brush off of his shoulders and fall into his hands where he swung around to the front in a swift motion, causing the duster to land in a folded position over his left arm. The young man's black shirt was tucked into his black pants which in turned stretched down to his black shoes, faintly showing his slender physique.
While his shoes lightly clapped against the floor as he walked, Damon Walker gazed around the room until his eyes fell upon someone that he hadn't recognized. He allowed his charming smile to curl into his lips and he nodded to the girl before letting his footsteps guide him toward one of the theater doors. On his way, Damon's black eyes scoped over the girl's body swiftly, hidden behind the dark sunglasses, before he turned them toward the door he had destined himself to walk through practically every morning, noon, and night.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 10, 2007 11:51:18 GMT -5
Mirela glanced up as someone walked into the theatre. Her eyes widened at his attire, all black, with sunglasses. One of the demons mother always told me about... she thought childishly for a moment, then mentally slapped herself, mother's demons aren't real.
She gave him a bewildered smile, slightly confused as to why he was in the theatre. A performer! she realized, her eyes widening with awe. She had never met anyone famous before, definately not in Romania, where the closest you came to famous was being the best worker in the factory.
She turned to Sebastien, glancing at the 'performer' out of the corner of her eye, "Who is that man, Monsieur? One of your... entertainers, I'm guessing?" she asked curiously.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sébastien Pomeroy on Feb 10, 2007 12:32:15 GMT -5
Sébastien followed her gaze toward the 'performer' everyone knew as the most famous magician that worked at A La Amour. "Damon," he called toward the young man who was attempting to escape into the main theater. "Damon, come over here." He beckoned to the young magician, deciding that he would personally ask to have the sign removed rather than go through one of the assistants again.
As he watched the young magician, he said in a little quieter voice to the new employee, "Damon is one of our magicians here. The best of the ones that have ever worked here before and even among the best now." He was proud of Damon, knowing that the young magician worked hard at the career.
|
|
|
|
Post by Damon Walker on Feb 10, 2007 12:38:21 GMT -5
Hearing his name, the young man turned his gaze from the door he was walking to and looked in the direction that the voice had come from. His eyes landed on Mr. Pomeroy, and he wondered what he had done this time. He didn't remember doing anything wrong lately and hoped the man didn't assume that he had. Turning toward the man, Damon began to step towards them, glancing back and forth between the new girl and the owner of the theater.
Once he was fairly close to the pair, he asked the owner of the theater, "Oui, Monsieur Pomeroy?" Hidden behind his French language, a light hint of a German accent still remained, even though he hadn't lived in the country for very long. Apparently his mother and father had though and their accents were passed down to him while the young man lived with them. Every song that his mother would sing was rich with the German accent and every performance that his father performed was as well. Now, he held a little of the accent but it had faded quite a bit since he began his work with A La Amour Theater. It now was only a faint hint instead of a strong overpowering one.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 10, 2007 18:48:13 GMT -5
Mirela nodded as Sebastien explained, and opened her mouth to protest as he called the man over, but the owner of the theatre had already started speaking again. She stared at Damon in wonder, so this is what a famous person looks like... she thought, tilting her head a bit, a bit... eccentric. She nodded respectfully to the man, lowering her eyes curteously.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sébastien Pomeroy on Feb 13, 2007 19:46:40 GMT -5
Whenever Damon was close enough, he smiled to the young magician. "Before you get too deep into your work," he began in request to the man, "I'd like you to go and take down the sign that says we are still hiring." He turned to Mirela and placed his hand on her upper back, just behind her shoulders gently. "Madam Mirela here would be happy to show you where the sign is."
After the request, he nodded to the both of them and turned away. Stepping toward the table that he had been at recently, he called back, "And Damon, don't forget about your show tomorrow." He knew quite well that the young magician never forgot about any of his shows, but he enjoyed reminding his employees about their duties. During the past week, he hadn't seen Damon practicing at all with his tricks and was wondering whether he had forgotten, though he was certain that the young man hadn't.
|
|
|
|
Post by Mirela Rahela on Feb 13, 2007 23:08:34 GMT -5
Mirela jumped a bit at the sound of her name and she tuned back into the conversation, '-happy to show you where the sign is' was all she heard. She glanced back and forth between Theatre owner and performer as Sebastien spoke again. As the older man left she turned to the younger one and bit her lip, not sure what to do, "Err... so I'm supposed to show you where the sign is." she said stupidly.
She looked at the door, "It's outside..." she commented, feeling dumber by the second, "Shall we go, then?" she suggested, raising an eyebrow at the door and subconsciously yanking her hat down harder on her head.
|
|
|
|
Post by Damon Walker on Mar 3, 2007 1:31:54 GMT -5
The young magician gazed at the owner with his respectful smile in place. Though he wouldn't have considered the owner of the theater one of his greatest friends, the man was his employer and therefore deserved at least some respect.
"Before you get too deep into your work,"
Forcing himself not to laugh, Damon nodded. He hadn't known what he was going to do whenever he reached his room anyways. There were too many items on his imaginary to-do list for him to actually pick one to begin.
"I'd like you to go and take down the sign that says we are still hiring."
One of Damon's eyebrows perked up in slight confusion. He wasn't aware of there being a sign that announced the theater needing more employees. How was he going to find it? It could have been anywhere in the city.
"Madam Mirela here would be happy to show you where the sign is."
As if the owner had been reading his mind, the words quickly answered his silent question. Allowing the perked eyebrow to lower to its natural position, Damon nodded and responded with, "Oui, Monsieur." He turned toward Mirela and smiled at her before Sébastien called and reminded him about the show that was coming. How could Damon have forgotten? It had been plaguing his mind for the past week. Gazing after Sébastien, he forced himself to pretend like it was all fine.
"Er... so I'm supposed to show you where the sign is."
Again, Damon forced himself not to laugh. It sounded as though Mirela was more nervous than a parent allowing his or her kid to go to school for the first time. Instead of laughing, he simply nodded with his lips still grinning at her.
"It's outside..."
This time he couldn't help it. A very quiet laugh escaped him, mostly leaving through his nose in a quick exhale, but it was clear that it was light laughter.
"Shall we go, then?"
Nodding once again, Damon responded, "Oui, Madam. Lead the way." He did, in fact, notice her yank her hat down over her head and slightly wondered about it. There could be many reasons for that small event though. She could be trying to hide her face in embarrassment, but failing. Perhaps she was having a bad hair day. Either way, he pushed the thoughts aside and turned toward the door. Walking toward the exit, he glanced toward her to make sure she was following him and he opened the door for her. Slightly bowing, he presented the outside to the young lady.
|
|
