Secrets
It's February winter in LA -- the air is thick and holds a person's spirit in anticipatiopn before giving way to a heavy, cold rain with no wind. It's the physical embodiment of grey.
Work is slow and tedious. Actors and stagehands alike are short-tempered and depressed. Finally, Miniver scrambles home on foot in the rain, and when he returns at last to the apartment, he takes all of a minute to strip off his wet clothes, throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized tee-shirt, and curl up on the couch with one of Pickles' old notebooks.
He's been working his way through these slowly -- in part because it takes time and focus to follow Pickles' handwriting and thought process, and in part because... a lot of it is just difficult.
This is one of those parts, and one of those nights, and part of him almost hopes Pickles doesn't get home for a while...
Work is slow and tedious. Actors and stagehands alike are short-tempered and depressed. Finally, Miniver scrambles home on foot in the rain, and when he returns at last to the apartment, he takes all of a minute to strip off his wet clothes, throw on a pair of jeans and an oversized tee-shirt, and curl up on the couch with one of Pickles' old notebooks.
He's been working his way through these slowly -- in part because it takes time and focus to follow Pickles' handwriting and thought process, and in part because... a lot of it is just difficult.
This is one of those parts, and one of those nights, and part of him almost hopes Pickles doesn't get home for a while...