Connection in an Isolating Age

Jamie surveys the lobby with a vaguely bemused look on his face. Yes, this is most definitely Mark's studio. It has that same feel of "just put it wherever" clutter that Mark's desk and room always had.

The key was figuring out where Mark would be in all this chaos.

"Helloooo?"

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A blonde girl comes flying by from outside, with a pile of silky fabrics in her arms, and a flask of glitter in her pocket. She stops just short of the stairs and eyes him for a moment. "You're not here with the extra film are you?" Beat. "No. You must be the guy auditioning for Ponder." Beat. "No. You're.... wait. Who the hell are you?"

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Jamie blinks for a moment, then shrugs. "Jamie Wellerstien," he says with a slightly flirtatious smile. "I'm Mark's friend."

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"Oh, well. Hi." Kyle misses the flirting, as she drops her entire armful of fabrics on the ground. "Shit." She kneels down, and picks them all up before Jamie can do anything. "I'm Kyle Johnson. Costumes, glitter, and all the things onscreen that Jill doesn't do."

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Jamie raises an eyebrow, bemused once again. "You actually have a glitter department? Sounds very... sparkly."

He manages to bite back a comment about Mark being rather fairy-like. But only just.

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Kyle would love that comment. And repeat it to Adam. Who she is actually speaking to and sleeping with this week.

"Oh, of course we do. What sort of film company doesn't?"

"A sane one, that's what." A dirty-blonde haired girl walks up from the basement with a laptop bag over her shoulder. "Wait. We're not sane."

Kyle snorts. "Entertain the boy, Quinn. I have to make shirts with rocks in."

"Yeah, yeah." She turns to Jaime with a bit of a winning grin. "Oh, god, please tell me you're here to audition for Ponder. You're frelling perfect."

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Jamie stares for a moment.

If he'd thought Kyle was pretty, well... This girl is even more so. Quinn, the glitter-girl had called her. Jamie gives his best and most effective winning (and slightly sheepish) grin back. "Sorry, but no. You'd have to talk to Cathy - my wife," he adds, to keep from feeling guilty, "about anything involving acting. I'm just a writer."

He offers his hand. "Jamie Wellerstien. I'm a friend of Mark's."

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Quinn drops the folder of headshots, resumes, and papers that she had in her hands, turning bright red in the process. She shakes his hand, then kneels. "Oh, my god. I... I've read your books about a million times, and now I make an utter arse of myself. I'm so sorry." She looks up at him, from the floor mess. "Sorry. I probably should behave better. Anyway, I'm Quinn Anderson, Casting Director, PR manager, and, well, anything else they throw at me."

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"Nice to meet you," Jamie says with a wide grin, as he drops down to help her pick everything up. "I have to say that's probably the most interesting reaction I've gotten from a fan, with the possible exception of the woman who wanted me to sign her breast."

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"Um. I'm not that odd. At least I hope I'm not." She grins a bit sheepisly at him. "Sorry about that. I really do like your books, though. I tried to go to one of your signings, but I had to go to one of Mark's press conferences, and was too late to get anything signed."

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"Oh, well, that's easy enough to fix!" Jamie says with a laugh. "I've got no problem signing something if you've got them and I'm around. Mark and I just got back in touch, and Cathy's off in Ohio on a tour, so I'll probably be around here a lot."

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"Oh, I have them." Quinn grins at him, grabbing the rest of her papers. Shoving the papers in her bag, she pulls out a well-loved copy of his first book. "Um. Sorry it's a bit dog-eared." Pause. "Um. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be just fangirling you like this. I really would like to get to know you as a person, especially if you're going to be around for a while." He's married, Quinn. He's married.

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"Hey, any author in his right mind would love to see his book dog-eared and dirty. It means the owner enjoys reading it." He grins and fishes a pen out of his pocket. "And really, it's okay. I don't mind being 'fangirled'. It's rather boosting to the ego."

He flashes his slightly flirtatious smile at her this time, and signs her book. "Quinn - glad you enjoy my writing so much. It's an honor to have such a talented fan. -Jamie"

And yes, he knows she's talented. Mark wouldn't employ anyone that wasn't, he knows that.

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Quin turns bright red, then puts the book carefully back into her bag. "Thanks so much." She grins back at him, grin subconsciously flirtacious. "Um. Mark's out all day scouting places to film. I, er, actually have most of the day free. None of my casting interviews are till tomorrow, and I'm damn tired of the press." Beat. "Er, if it isn't too presumptious, would you like to go out to dinner or something?"

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"Dinner with a pretty girl like you? Wouldn't turn it down for the world!"

Oh yeah, he's pretty much completely shameless.

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Quinn bats him off. "Not that pretty. Hold on. Let me go upstairs and get into something else." She shrugs. "I've been helping my roommate in the set lab all day. You're welcome to come up. I think everyone's out anyway."

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Jamie can tell it's a totally innocent offer, and he's not quite so smarmy that he's going to try to take advantage. "No, it's cool, I'll wait."

Big smile.

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"Alright. I'll be down in a moment." Quinn disappears, then returns about fifteen minutes later in a just-over-knee length black skirt, a blue sleeveless top, and sandals, clearly lacking her laptop bag. "Alright. Now here's the question. Where would you like to go?"

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Jamie stares for a moment. And then makes a mental note not to gape.

Someone's found a girl he is very attracted to.

"Uh... uh, anywhere's fine with me. Um, except Mexican."

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Quinn makes a face. "I don't like Mexican either." She ponders for a moment. "I'm feeling rather lazy and not much like making desictions. The Life it is." She leads Jamie out the door. "I'm assuming, if you know Mark that you've been there."

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"Nope!" Jamie says cheerfully. "But then, I just reconnected. Hadn't really talked to the bastard since just after he graduated high school."

Ask if they grew up together, Quinn. Just ask. Maybe he'll tell you the sekkrit nickname.

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Quinn blinks. "Oh, you poor boy. I think that someone needs to show you the more Bohemian side of the city."

She pauses. "You knew Mark in high school? How'd you two meet?" There just might be the beginnings of a mischievious smirk there.

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"Oh, I've known Mark since we were kids," Jamie laughs, his hands in his pockets. "We were at the same temple, went to Hebrew School together for a little while."

He grins wickedly. "We used to call him 'Rubie'."

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Quinn beams, a huge, bright, and in some ways attractive grin. "You're kidding me? Oh my god, I can't wait to tell everyone."

She smirks, and walks along beside him. "So, out of curiosity, what was he like when he was little?"

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