For Kavinsky (15th December)

[pitchslapped]

It's...kind of a shitshow, actually. She's got a lot of recording time on the books, the phone is ringing off the book and Jamie is...well. Nowhere to be seen. Which Beca guesses leaves her in charge. She's getting plenty of studio time, which is awesome, but she doesn't have time to make coffee and clean and all of the other things she's supposed to be doing around the place. The dishes are piling up in the sink. The phone is going unanswered a lot.

She hits a lull and just sort of...collapses on the sofa in reception.
She cannot keep this up.

Comments

[pitchslapped]

"How old are you?" she asks, head tilted, eyebrows raised. "Can I send you out for beer and things when the fridge runs low? Curt clears it out when he's in."

[mitsubishievo]

"I can get beer, yeah," Kavinsky said, and it was with a mild and nonchalant shrug. He'd been capable of getting most anything for a number of years, but it was only since Darrow that his new fake ID he'd made himself was actually worth any snuff, because nobody in the city knew who the fuck he was.

"I've got a car, too, so if you need me to do longer errands or anything, I can do that."

[pitchslapped]

He doesn't tell her how old he is, which Beca notices and lets slide. She'll just ask Al the next time she sees him. She guesses seventeen, eighteen maybe, but probably not. She's used to doing auditions, but this interviewing thing is way different.

"Yeah, I'll definitely give you a shot," she says. "Don't fuck me around, man. I don't have time to do two jobs."

[mitsubishievo]

He watched her size him up, and he swiveled in his chair a little bit. It had a squeak in it, and he exploited it, obnoxiously, for a moment. Turn-squeak. Turn-squeak. Turn-squeak.

"Yeah, you got it. No fucking around. Cleaning, coffee. Phone shit, I guess."

[pitchslapped]

Right there, right in that moment, Beca totally almost reconsiders her job office. Because this? She's not sure she can deal with this all day.

"Just make my fucking life easier, okay?" she says, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Because I literally cannot do this on my own."

[mitsubishievo]

"I just--!"

Kavinsky threw up an arm, rolling his eyes. He grumbled under his breath in Bulgarian a little bit. Women. Honestly. He got up from the chair, jerking a thumb toward the back of the studio.

"I assume the biggest mess is back here, probably around where said bitchy coffee pot is lurking? I promise I won't touch your equipment."

[pitchslapped]

"Sounds good to me," says Beca, flicking through a page in the book, trying to work out when she was going to get lunch. "Cleaning products under the sink. Anything you need, I can give you petty cash to run out and get."

[mitsubishievo]

He gave her a thumbs up, heading into the lounge/break room which was, definitely a bit of a mess. It was a good thing he hadn't put on anything too nice looking before he'd decided to head over for this thing. He pulled on his head phones, started up his music, and buckled down to start cleaning up, at least.