Arcadio

On set is hard, but the editing room's even more difficult. It's much easier to feel good about yourself on set, at least, when if you fuck up at least you can usually try again. While editing, you look back over what you've got and you realize that ninety-five percent of it is all shit. Arcadio's pretty sure the remaining five percent is enough to save the project, but that doesn't mean he's feeling up to the task right now so he's taking his first break.

So he's just sitting comfortably with a bottle of water balanced on the couch cushions within arm's reach, an art book open to a picture of Fusili's "The Nightmare." Not surprisingly, he's a little amused by it, stopping to sit back and gaze at it with a slight smile. He pops a jelly bean in his mouth and leans back against the couch. He might not be seeking it out, but he's never been known to turn down conversation or company. In fact, the more distraction from work, the better.

For once, it has not been a hard week.

Arcadio's spent the week more or less by himself, actually; he can't say he's particularly minded, especially as he's coming up on two projects at once (work seems to come in fits and starts, with him; there's either none at all or too much for even a demon to handle). When a load of quality time alone segues into a load of quality time with tons of other people, there are generally things that need to be taken care of.

One of these things, at the present moment, is spring cleaning.

So if you see the demon boy in the kitchen standing at the sink with his sleeves rolled up and his hands plunged into a soup of soapy bleach solution and the occasional floating sex toy, scrubbing at the ribs in a rubber dildo, don't be alarmed. He won't be, after all; he's friendly.