It's always something. Now I'm stuck in between the third and fourth floor at work. You'd think the Geneva Studios would at least bother to fix the damn elevators. But no, that makes too much sense. How else would a CEO pay his own salary, if not cut corners around facilities and maintenance budgets? First the coffee machine, now this.
Not only am I in this horrifically tight space, contemplating how behind I am on my latest project, but I've got this idiot staring at me.
Carmen.
I've only known him for a week, but I've hated him since the first day he started at the studio.
I asked him for an iced mocha. Simple. Tell me why he brought me a matcha... On top of bringing me the trendiest of drink choices, as if I'm some basic white chick, he had the audacity to give me pointers on the walk animation I was working on.
"You could further emphasize the character's weight after the point of contact."
Oh, shut up. Does he seriously believe I can't execute one of the most fundamental animation techniques? He then went on to thank me, claiming he's grateful for the opportunity to work in the studio and yadda yadda.
I swear, Reggie always brings in the fakest, know-it-all interns. Yet, everyone seems to love Carmen. The annoying part is, I don't hate his work.
I press myself against the wall, arms crossed, attempting not to act like an over caffeinated mess. It's only been five minutes, but the smell of BO mixed with my deodorant was already breaking through my new cardigan. Of course, this would happen while I'm stuck in a metal box with Mr. Happy Go Lucky.
God, his fake smile irks me to the core. I could punch it. I would… if there weren't a witness servicing the elevator just above us.
The maintenance guy grunts from the shaft above, and a sharp metal clang reverberates through the chamber. I'm half hoping the chord snaps and brings all three of us down. At least that'd give me a reason for not completing today's deadline. I squeeze the tablet tucked under my arm and clench my teeth to keep from spewing my favorite profanities.
‘Soo…’ Carmen turns toward me. ‘The deadline’s today, how are things going?’
I grunt, I don’t want to talk to you.
‘The Spiderwitch animation for the intro scene. Complete trash. I still have at least 100 frames of complex movements to go.’
The director, Reggie, assigned Carmen to help me draw the inbetweens for the scene, but I refused. At this point, I’d even take the help of the maintenance guy to get finished by the deadline.
‘It’s going to be a long night for me.’
A faint buzz resonates from above.
‘Yezzir.’ The maintenance guy chirps, following a pause. ‘Perfect, I’ll call the electrician.’
He takes a knee, addressing us.
‘Sorry fellas, I have someone on the way. The latch to the emergency exit here is deformed. I can’t get y’all out ‘till the elevator is fully functioning again.’
I sigh. ‘How long?’
‘Dunno. Maybe 20 minutes... Maybe a few hours.’
My gaze falls on Carmen and my eyes instinctively roll.
‘You can’t bring us down manually or something?’
‘No sir. Too dangerous with the electrical short. Just hang tight!’
He clambers up to the floor above and shuffles around inside his toolbox. After a moment, I hear what sounds like him scrolling through youtube shorts on his phone.
‘I’m a woman.’ I muttered, before sliding down to sit on the floor.
Carmen rummages through his leather satchel, producing a tablet from the bag. ‘There you are.’ He cheered, flashing a smile in my direction. ‘Might as well work, right?’
My lips flatten into a forced smile.
‘Actually, um. Since we may be a while. I need your opinion on something…’ the screen of the tablet illuminates his freshly shaved face as he takes a knee beside me. ‘I feel like I may be missing something.’
Odd.
He wants my opinion.
But, I don’t sense any bit of sarcasm from him.
‘Hm, okay. Let me see what you’ve got.’
After a couple of taps on the screen, he reveals the last few frames of a fight scene. It’s messy but has a decent foundation to build on. ‘It isn’t finished, of course, but I’m having trouble focusing on what to refine.’ Carmen said.
Now, I’m suspicious. I’ve seen him work on things like this before with no issues. I play along anyway.
‘This looks fine as a start. Before you finalize the key frames, I’d add more exaggeration to the frames before the punch lands. Gives it more weight and drama.’ I twirl my hair while analyzing the drawings in motion. ‘Also, the recoil after it lands needs a bit of a delay.’
Naturally, I take hold of his stylus, annotating my suggested arcs of movement for each action.
‘The sequence should read better with those adjustments. Just try it out.’
I hand him back the stylus. My gaze never leaving the screen of the tablet – curiosity was beginning to get the best of me as I anticipated his first strokes.
He plops down beside me. Then, he sketches it out, quick and confident, his lines alive. His stylus dances effortlessly across the layers as he converts my advice into an immediate result. I can see why Reggie– why everyone– likes this guy.
‘Um, Listen.’ He places his pen down, shifting his body to face me. ‘I know that I’m just an intern and I’m sure you’re more than capable, but if you’re feeling overwhelmed… I would be more than happy to help you out with your portion.’
His words were a shock.
I hesitate, holding back something petty and stupid like, “Stay in your lane, dude. I've been doing this for years."
Instead, I simply say, ‘Sure.’
We work in sync after that. I direct, he draws. Every so often we swap. I forget we were even stuck. I forget the time. I forget that I’d come in earlier dreading the deadline. Shit, I even forget about the maintenance guy, who's now snoring above us.
By the time the elevator jolts and the lights flicker back on, our scenes are finished.
I marvel at the Spiderwitch moving in full motion across the screen. It’s only a fifteen second animation, but I’m proud of it.
The maintenance guy gurgles on his own saliva and shuffles to his feet. We're brought down to the third floor: Geneva Studios. Carmen and I exchange glances as elevator door slides open in front of us.
‘Not the worst meeting I’ve been held captive in.’ I say.
‘Same.’ Carmen chuckles. ‘Matcha lattes on me?’
My eyes narrow, a subtle smirk tugging at my lips.
Idiot.