(disclaimer): CCS is owned by CLAMP.
vocab: eetchi – an exclamation used to declare 'perversion'.
hajimemashite – a formality used when meeting someone for the first time.
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Now Hiring Producers
The sun rose all too quickly, Tomoyo's apartment windows catching bits of lights not blocked by the department buildings.
For once, she was thankful not to see Setsuya's sleeping body next to hers. The argument, along with the production changes, was putting a serious strain of their relationship.
The alarm clock ticked obsessively and she watched seconds-hand rotate around the others.
She must get up.
It was Thursday, they were starting interviews early. Tomoyo dreaded the extensive lines of producers and their small-time movie making nonsense she would have to face. Or worse; no lines at all.
Dragging her feet, limbs dangling at her sides, Tomoyo moved slowly from her apartment bedroom to her apartment bathroom. It was small, unmistakably clean with a wide mirror to reflect everything. Yes, everything. Even the darkening circles under her curling eyelashes.
"Damn." Tomoyo leaned her hands on the sink counter, bumping her head against the mirror in the process.
>>
"Number 20."Tomoyo looked over the file, her loving expression was fixed very carefully on her face. She looked to her left at Setsuya, and said sardonically, "Geez, twenty interviews are taking a goddamn fifty years to go through…"
"And not a single one decently sane!" Setsuya cut off his girlfriend.
The next man ambled into the office, his glasses frames hanging slightly off his nose. He took his seat quickly and then twitched.
Tomoyo exchanged wary looks with several co-workers, before peering at the man. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes." The man bowed his head. "Yes."
"Alright." Tomoyo sighed heavily, under a breath, "You listed a fair amount of productions here…"
"A fair?" The man interrupted with a quiet stutter, "Is that not enough?"
"No, it's fine."
"Oh. Okay, th-- thank you."
"You forgot to name which companies these films were with, and some titles I do not even recognize."
"Oh yes. Anime stuff… erm, mostly, I funded the voice cast and produced along with major, well sort of, companies…"
"Which are?"
"..small jobs, you know, beginning companies..."
This time Setsuya interrupted annoyed, and who could blame him. "What. Just what are they?"
The interviewee twitched slightly, looked left, then right, then muttered names under his breath which Tomoyo could faintly hear. She recognized them immediately, by sheer reputation of their business. Tomoyo looked astonished at the man who was sweating bullets. He bolted for the door, tie flying over his shoulder, the briefcase clutched at his stomach.
"What, what?" Setsuya looked at Tomoyo puzzling as did a few others.
Tomoyo rolled her eyes and tapped the speaker phone. "Miki?" she called, "Please send whoever's next out there..." She then turned to Setsuya with a horrified look. "Porn companies."
Setsuya looked to the chair that the client had fled from. "Eetchi." He snarled and Tomoyo stifled at giggle.
>>
"Number 24."
The client walked into the office with a very curious appeal. His sunglasses were hardly appropriate for inside but they gave off an rather exotic refinement to him.
"Hajimemashite. Please, take a seat." Tomoyo could hardly gesture, as her arms felt dead. The time was well into the afternoon. She prayed for a cup of tea and a bottle of aspirin.
The client took his seat after hanging his leather jacket on the back of the chair. He crossed his legs in a feminine manner and Tomoyo caught of glimpse of the dazzling red platform boots he wore. She gaped until her set designer gave her a nudge with his elbow.
"Right," she murmured, a bit dazed. "Nagakawa-san. What, please tell, what do you see production-wise where this movie could financially accomplish?"
"I have my own company."
"Yes…?" Tomoyo nodded very uncertain about this one.
His see-through shirt glittered as he moved his lips very seriously. "It's called… MAGIC-SPARKLE PLANET."
The board members froze. Tomoyo twisted her pen cap on and off nervously. Setsuya became ridged. Their overwhelming day had just been topped off with a pansy producer who wore glittery clothes and burst into his own alternate-universal renditions of movie magic.
"..and chibi-creatures will run around with their forefathers, speaking of enchanted woods where they may play…" He gestured madly while envisioning this although keeping an astounding straight face. The fabric trim on his shirt and jeans fluttered in the still air, and glitter rained down in tiny showers to the carpet floor.
"Thank you-" Tomoyo interrupted harsher than she intended. "Um, we'll be in touch."
"I hope we will." He finished all too seriously, and strolled out leaving specks of glitter in his wake. The costume designer looked a bit feigned. "Well," she said, "He was at least fashionable."
Tomoyo was writing furiously on her clipboard, reminding herself to get a new job. Headaches had that affect on her.
>>
Six interviews later and the entire day was wasted. Not a single client seemed willing, or sane enough to handle the fabrication of this film. A couple, were major motion directors which they couldn't afford to hire."Setsuya. I'm going to the restroom." She whispered into Setsuya's ear. He nodded and flipped on the speaker phone. "Miki? Number 30."
"Hai," came the tired voice from the other end.
Tomoyo rubbed her forehead viciously as she walked out the office. This was it, she thought, if this next client doesn't fit then I'm producing the goddamn film myself! Of course, Tomoyo knew this was technically impossible. She had only worked as a small-time director for three years. She had no experience in producing her own films, and wished she had taken time to learn.
As she politely stomped through the empty hallway, Tomoyo turned the corner, only to collide her shoulder with another.
"Gomen." Tomoyo barely lifted her face. "I'm terribly sorry."
"It's of no consequence." A surprising tenor replied.
What. Tomoyo stopped. She did a double take and threw a glance at the man now striding toward the conference room. Must be the next producer, she thought, but then frowned, Wait. What's of no consequence?
The ladies room was bare, as Tomoyo did her business and washed her hands. Absentmindedly gazing at the wide mirror, noticing how old she seemed. Twenty-two years was not old at all, but this day, it seemed she had lived eternity. Tomoyo returned minutes later to the office, where the interview seemed to be coming along quite well.
Setsuya was concentrating on a piece of paper in front of him. As Tomoyo took her seat again, he leaned over and handed her the sheet.
"Look at this," he murmured and pointed to a rather extensive list printed out.
"Wow." Tomoyo breathed softly. "There has to be at least… twenty productions you've funded over the last five years!" She dazed over the impressive resume, while Setsuya continued the interview.
"We're nearly finished here," he said in his monotone voice. "Would you like to add anything?"
The man who sat very still in the chair, cleared his throat.
"Alright." he said.
The air turned very humid with motionless twitter.
"Although I've never offically started my own Production company, I carry my own name in write. I am quite financially stable with enough business experience to carry a movie like this and help it get somewhere. I have lived in England most of my life working with American movies, but return to Japan and Hong Kong once and a while to visit friends. I am fluent in Chinese, Japanese, English, Korean, French and a bit of Russian. I also prefer long walks on the beach and watching the sunrise."
What does he think this is, a dating service? Tomoyo glanced over the resume to receive a wink from a tall, blue-haired stranger. She gulped.
He was certainly tall, though Tomoyo couldn't exactly tell since he was sitting, with broad shoulders and long legs. His night-sky hair was layered and spanned just about his ears. The bangs were long and wispy, laying over his glasses and dark, mysterious eyes. He sat with confidence and though he was faced by an entire board of frustrated film makers, he seemed unnaturally calm.
Setsuya frowned, but then exchanged thanks and told him they'd call with news soon. The man abruptly got up to shake his hand, then turned to stand in front of Tomoyo.
Tomoyo stared at his hand, which was extended to her.
Setsuya made a small noise which jolted her back to reality. She jumped up and shook his hand enthusiastically, noticing how soft his fingers felt against her own.
He strode from the office, his shoulders seemed to not fit between the doorway, and Tomoyo instinctively fell back into the chair, sinking into its leather comforts. Chatter began around her, everyone seemed pleased with this last option and couldn't wait to get through the rest. Tomoyo barely heard the comments around her, her thoughts only concerning those shadowy eyes.
What magnificent eyes, Tomoyo thought, Where have I seen that look before? Where have I felt that secretive presence…? Knowing she didn't posses one magical bone within her, Tomoyo had an amazing ability to feel hidden personas of people without knowing them.
A sudden flash of insight made her grab for the resume. She scanned the paper with her eyes, finding what she wanted.
"Oh Lord." She gasped, the block print aligned with other personal information, highlighting her very deduction. "Eriol Hiiragizawa."
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notes: - I hope you will enjoy this rather hurried chapter that I put no thought into typing. Oh, and please don't nag about the interviews. I'm not in the film industry so whatever it is, I wouldn't know.
