AN:/

Non-Traditional Ink Poisoning(a.k.a that weird Joey concocted shet)

Symptoms usually when ingested are:
Nausea, Dizziness, Sore Stomach, Forgetfulness, Hallucinations, Loss of Consciousness

"Joy!"

Ink still slathered the floors, making it nearly impossible to walk anywhere, and left many perched atop their ancient bulky chairs. Staring at her like birds, with bulged eyes, she knew it was at her expense, they needn't't track any shoe-prints. Yet it left many restless and apologetic, and some rebellious and followed suit in her attempt at cleaning like she was assigned to do.

"Joyce!"

She was willing to hop large distances for the sake of those birds. In fact she seemed to chuckle at the mere idea of the resemblance, and left a pep in her step after the first round of delivering an assortment of ruined sheets. There were so many, she knew it was the first phase before the soaked Reels, and oh goodness- she had to puff her cheeks in dramatic humor, she spotted a little boat of an ink canister, following the familiar work-scarred, tan, guiding hands of-

"Anderson!"

Smile faltering for a split second at the abrupt tone of the voice, she locked eyes with clear blue- they seemed troubled. Not akin to the skies outside as she has seen before- her eyes softened, recalling the clouds, the color. Oh how long it's been since she was last outside, before the papers in her arms were roughly snatched out of her gentler grasp. Blue eyes were cold, the chilled winter of December without an embrace or blanket to keep you warm, it hurt her, made her shiver involuntarily, realizing it was meant for her.
"Anderson, Anderson, Anderson," He spoke with a vivid consonance, like the name itself rose bile to his throat, he had to force it out of his mouth- past the teeth, the emotions. It was like ringing a bell one too many times. "I have been calling you for the past ten minutes, you haven't so much as gave our section a glance, why-" He abruptly stopped, just as abrupt as his calling before, like it was unintentional. He immediately gazed down at the papers, as if he saw something on her face- no, in her eyes he couldn't bear. He looked as if he were confused, like he didn't belong, yet the clear even soothingly understanding look on her face sent him back to his seat before he could finish his sentence properly.

"I understand. I'm sorry, Clyde, I'll get right to you guys as soon as I possibly can."

He couldn't even confront her, he couldn't even stay angry, and that made him even more livid in a suffocating way. So he was left hunched over in his seat, perfectly shined shoes covered in a substance blacker than his heart, and crumpled the papers in his hands- feeling the sting.

"Miss Joyce!"

She was on her way again, her trips. She just wouldn't stop running around. She long forgot her flats. She stomped around in those things, made sure anyone around her noticed her presence because she's snuck behind everyone nearly twice since she officially began working here- either startling mid-stroke, or mid-pen dip. Either way, it ended in a ruined sheet. So there Joy was, making sure everyone was as satisfied as could be, her white socks soaked at the toes from how she tiptoed when a leap between ink splotches on the floor was too far. She was graceful, though there were many times when her luck ran out and she almost fell into the thin layer of ink. Raw talent, he thought, raw untrained talent and it made him watch her through her runs, gripping the top of his chair when she'd rushed to get to a precariously wobbling stack of papers on the far end of the room- that was Arthur, damn him again, always causing a ruckus- He knew the boy was clumsy, but who with any sense would tower perfectly clean sheets like that? He truly considered he was up to no good, and shaking his head he moved his gaze to a lone ink bottle at the floor, and his brown eyes lit up, wrinkling at the edges.
"Hey Mel, d'ya mind helping me out here?" A voice chimed beside him, and he could hear the shyness oozing from the boy at his side, a shadow looming over him as he got to work on his new mini-project. "M-Mel? Hey, um, d-do you mind helping me out he- wait, what are you doing?" He begun to ask again for assistance in carrying the large amount of reels in his arms, James also began to consider how terrible of an idea this was as his arms started to shake. "Mel..." Watching him take a broken pen nib, the toothpick from out of his mouth and painters tape, he stuck- "Hey, Mel." er, whatever it was inside the short wide bottle, "Mel!" adding a little triangular piece of ruined paper smiled softly at his creation and turned to peer up at the sudden shout, only to witness a raging James Meador, within an inch of his strength, carrying over fifteen perfectly not ruined reels in his arms.

"MEL HELP ME"

With a gaping maw, Melvin hurried to take all of the weight off the incredibly skinny boy, and set it onto the table- reconsidering the amount of sense this entire room possessed. He wasn't deaf to what nearly everyone was saying, the rumors, the lies. Looking amongst the ruined room, the frustration, the people seemingly giving up on everything, he frowned. A deep scowl broke out lines he hardly allowed anyone see, James himself hurrying to get everything done, the humorous mood now dissipated to at least himself, not as naïve as James. He also realized how much that boy had in common with Joy. His eyes bright, his smile small but genuine, his optimism obscured by his nervous shuffling.

They didn't belong, things were changing.

He was lacking sense too, he supposed.

Wiping her brow, she slumped her shoulders, before wincing as the muscles connecting her joints twinged.

Rolling her shoulder blades, she frowned at the lack of feeling in her fingers, a cold sweat covering them. Clenching them as she strode back up the stairs for another time, she wiped them down her skirt as it ruffled between her legs- soaked at the middle- Arthur slipped and dragged her down with him. Clicking her tongue at what was left of today's accident, she kept her pace, hopping to each clear path, much larger than before, Mel had been cleaning up all the ink. The unanimous flustering of the people in the room before she left to the bin told her it was one of their breaks- the few Joey gave them, for lunch. Now it was barren of life, except her. Even Mel had gone down to the basement in a rush uncommon in the slow-paced man. Pausing to stand in between two desks, she stared at the spilled ink adorning the wood- it seemed to seep through all the cracks, cracks that withered the wood from age. This place was so old, ancient and broken. There needed to be a change, there will be casualties. It was something she didn't want to ponder over.
Sighing through her nose, she put her hands on her hips and gazed at the large crack in the pipe running above those two desks- Mary's and Alice's-
Alice.. Joyce's smile faltered, as a solemn frown graced her features. Willingly taking a step into the layer of ink covering the floor- most of it was mopped up, and sent somewhere else in the building. It seemed like not a drop was to be wasted, and yet there were leaks, breaks, snaps, gushes and..-

gushes?
gushes, gushes,-... gashes, pins and needles-
Blinking, the dull ache receded, the one she didn't know was there until she could breathe complete again. Blinking, she bent her toes and felt the socks rip themselves from her skin, stepped away from touching the crack, her hand had reached out to test the waters- the ink, making sure it was stable enough. Now it was at her side, and shaking, uncontrollably and sweaty. Unbelievably sweaty and cold.

Stepping back, stepping back, stepping back until she felt a soft hand on her shoulder only to turn and see Melvin leaning against the doorway to the staircase to the basement, downstairs- the boards, countless boards piled up to block anyone from going any further down. It would be permanent, it wouldn't change, the flood was what caused that to keep people out, the flood that she-
gushes gashes, gashes, pain, pi- "Joy?" A hand on her arm, warm to her chilled skin but it did nothing to her pounding skull. "Wh..- y-uh.. y-yes?" Her eyes felt hazy, out of focus for a brief moment. As terrible as she felt just then, her knees wanted to buckle at this sudden change, it soon passed and instead of pain causing weak knees it was fatigue.

"Oh, hey Mel! How..How're you?" Her voice wavered, slurred, seemingly from her thickened accent- from exhaustion, Melvin supposed. "Oh, I'm dandy, y'don't look too good y'self though.. Things okay?" He probed again, she hadn't heard him the first three times.
Eyes following his own, as he squinted and suddenly rubbed at them, the scars present as he shook his head at the discomfort. "Joy, ya never let yourself give a moment's pause, unless yer sleeping lik'a log,"
He was terribly nearsighted, one reason why he was put in Reel Management. "What's on ya mind?"
Joyce remembered him, her eyes focused on the scar residing on his left temple, how his eyes had that same haziness, yet held a patience.
She remembered how much he loathed his job, he got angry. He changed many things here, including himself from how he acted in years past.
"Joyce."
Blinking rapidly, fingers laced in the fabric of her skirt, she shook her head, a smile plastering itself instinctively on her face. "Sorry, yes?" Her brain seemed to kick back into over drive at the tone, he used her full name and she internally panicked, Mel let out a sigh through his nose.
"Are ya okay?" He stressed his words, as he took a step to raise a hand to her forehead, eyes looking at her face, and squinting the same way again- where the scar crinkled and those lines made him look like Joey beside his mouth returned.

Furrowing her brows in concentration, feeling like she was going to tear her skirt, she nodded determined. "Yes. But..- but that doesn't matter, have you heard anything at all?" Voice unwavering, she felt that ache boil in her stomach. "Anything? " She repeated, wanting to change this topic.
"Joyce, no, I'm not blind yet, I can tell you're not feeling well-" Mel saw right through it.
"Mel, please I'm fine, just tell me what's going on," She intercepted, and his wrinkles disappeared in true concern, her voice wasn't-"Joyce, don't-" she crossed her arms and put weight on her left hip, "I hate being in the dark."

Following her movements, he sassily mimicked her,

"You know that!- stop, Mel," she let out a laugh as he shook his head like one of the toys he's made before- where the top shook worse than James when he had to introduce himself to the crew on his first day.
"You know that!- stop, Mel." He gazed over to her, as her short giggle turned into a chortle when his voice raised a few octaves, her skin returning to it's natural glow. The pain seemed to dissipate, her hands warm but not damp, she felt... okay now. It was like a wave, or the tide rushing in only to pull back, so.. so far back only to crash again larger and louder.

"You promised me." She pointed, her eyes seemed to feel heavy, and she wasn't going to lie after he gave her a pointed look. "Fine.. I'm just.. a bit exhausted, is all."
He rolled his eyes, "That wasn't difficult at all, now was it?" He huffed, grumpy attitude returning as soon as he gave her a once over, glared at her in warning to see if she'd break and tell him the truth in case she was lying, and leaned back onto the desk beside them.

After a pause, he looked towards the pipes, his eyes seemed to fade in their warm color. Joyce couldn't help but lean forward to hear the low rumble of a chuckle, deep in his chest as if this were all a joke to him.

But his eyes..

"They're plannin' another riot."

He muttered, low and he crossed his arms, as if for comfort. He looked like a parent having to explain the world and its cruelness to a child, yet not knowing exactly how.

And Joy couldn't help her eyes from widening- they couldn't afford another one.

"Again?" Voice raising, she was given a quick glance to quieten her. "I-I mean, this time was albeit more dangerous that the other accidents," Her gaze flickered to the pipe, "but they must know Joey is trying his hardest to keep them pleased-" Mel raised his hand, and she knew to shut her mouth as he stared out at the expanse of the room. Over the years it's grown cramped, smaller and smaller as Joey hires more and more people.
"He's.. it's..." He shook his head at the floor, "-Joyce, ya won't understand. In yer mind he's gonna look perfect, but..." His frame seemed to buckle in on itself for a moment. "Thing's just aren't like that anymore.." He muttered, and as she opened her mouth to retort, or say something in defense of Joey, he narrowed his eyes at one particular floorboard. "I know ya, ya want to say he's got it rough dealin' with all these people, he's got an entire Studio to run, to take care of- but things are changing, Joyce." She shook her head and stared at the flooras well, she could put a note on each creaky floorboard, speed through the halls, she couldn't see what he was talking about- all she's known of Joey, the Studio, the crew- everything here was her home, her family wasn't good enough now? That it was apparently ruined, needed to change...
.. was?
"Joy, I know you've lived here all yer life, it's all ya know, but ya can't-.." He walked over at her, her eyes watering unknowingly. "Ya can't afford to ignore this." He whispered, eyes warming in concern for the girl, she was as young as James- she was as hopeful as he was, determined and optimistic. "Not again, you need to talk with him, set things straight. Cos' if ya don't settle here, give it a purpose, ya won't last."
She wasn't rational. His voice was buzzing in her ears, he was telling her to accept that this place... "Not even with yer Mother's request." ...her home, her home was going down.. they were so close. She shook her head, lip quivering as she thought back to everything that was created, all those amazing works, the lifetime her Mother slaved into this Studio, countless faliures, brilliant successes, rights and wrongs, happiness, frustration,

They were so close...

He wanted to comfort her, yet he stayed still in his place in front of the other desk.

"Joyce, Joyce..." his voice faded at the second call, his own selfish worries bubbling up, rooting him to those floorboards like a tree urging itself to blossom, "I'm sorry but.. you can't stop it this time..." His tongue tasted a bitterness. Yet the water this tree flourished under wouldn't let it bare the fruits it yearned for.
"It's.. this- this is.. my home, you can't just.." Her voice shook and she merely slid down into the chair behind her, head in her hands.

"Joey will.. " She wiped her eyes with the underside of her wrist, and shook her head multiple times, accepting the comforting hand of Mel. Looking up at him, she smiled.
"He'll.. He'll do something, he always does- he'll bring us all back up, like before... before the flood, we'll be okay again," She assured, and Mel could only look down with an emotion she couldn't place- "he's got to do something, he has to or..." maybe because her eyes were so blurry, she couldn't afford to cry. She built herself up as a rock, a sturdy one that would believe in a better tomorrow. A rock that could withstand any crash of the ocean.

Her eyes seemed to squeeze into slits at this thought, hidden behind her hands.

Quickly standing, cutting off Mel, she waved him away, clearing the lump in her throat, "I'll get back to cleaning everything up, go on and enjoy the rest of your break, Mel." She ended it right then and there, heart aching.

Leaving the room in a rush, her steps were wobbly, seemingly uncoordinated, bounding corner after corner she forced the thought of how unfamiliar everything had gotten. She needed to get back to work, even as she stood on unstable legs. A faint warmth of passing conversations led her to believe lunch was over, and that time passed quickly while grieving.

Things were still going to go on as per usual, at least until later on in the day. It was twelve-thirty and everyone came back from their breaks, and around four this evening someone new was coming, and Mister Lawrence would work with them. Just like Henry's calender claimed, today was going to be a big day.

"We'll be fine. We'll be okay." She seemed to mumble under her breath as she stared out in front of the Studio room, heart burning with a flame, an even deeper ache like those words weren't for everyone but for herself. Someone new, completely new again and again, so many new people... and yet..

"New people means new oppurtunities for the show."

Not for me...

AN:/ This was a lot longer than I intended, but it is mostly filler- to explain where everyone is, how the Studio is faring. And how Joy begins to fall apart... which is why it took so long because it dragged.. on... forever. So I had to change it, multiple times. But I can say my writing style hasn't swayed from over excessive detail, aha.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and have a lovely morning, evening or night!