"Beth- Beth are you paying attention?" Barked Ryan- or er Mr.Clark- her agent, on the other end of the line. She was already stepping out of her cab, guitar case in tow, on her way up the steps to Alphafind Media. She tittered up the steps awkwardly before she found her footing. Bethany breathed into the phone, "Yes- yeah I heard you. I have to sign some things and-" The front doors to the building opened just then and Ryan Clark, hand pressed to Bluetooth, stepped out to meet her. They were the same age but all similarities between the two stopped there. Clark was tall and thin with short black hair that crowned his head in a slicked back fashion. He always wore a suit despite their working environment being an informal and casual wear place. The agent was always in a rush like now as he reached out and took Bethany by her arm. "You're ten minutes late!" He scolded as they strode across the lobby toward some elevators. Beth hung up the call and clutched her phone as she was dragged, she struggled a bit in surprise, "Ryan let go- I'm sorry, I was just held up somewhere for a bit." She defended herself as they both stepped in to an open elevator. He only let her go once the door closed. He narrowed his eyes down at her, "Whatever it was- it wasn't more important than your job, Bethany. Mr. Ward called me just a few minutes ago to see how everything was going and I had to lie." She dropped her phone into her jacket pocket and hugged her guitar bag, she turned her brown eyes away from him and instead looked up at the floors that they were passing. "Oh?" She began with a major lack of concern for him, "that's surprising. Why would the big boss bother with us?" Ryan Clark pouted and rolled his eyes as the elevator doors opened on their floor, "Because your signings today are for new contracts between you and another artist." He said as he guided her through the bustling workspace to an office. She looked up at him now, curious, "Oh? With who?" Ryan Clark pressed a hand against the office door and paused before they entered. He raised an eyebrow at her, "He's been waiting for you." He? Thought Bethany a little nervously. But before she could press him further she was bustled in to the room. "Wallace. Sorry to have kept you waiting." Said Ryan as he set his briefcase down on the conference table before the artist. He gestured to Bethany, "Wallace Conlee. Meet Bethany Novikov- you'll both be working together on a few projects for the next few months."

Wallace had been sitting in the office alone for roughly fifteen minutes. The room was bland. White walls, a gray conference table, a large window overlooking the city, a two person couch, and a clock were all that the office had to offer in terms of entertainment. Wallace had taken to staring out the window, his eyes fixing on a building far away from were they were. He kept his eyes focused hard on the building. The others faded. It was all that existed to him. He closed his eyes, imagining the shape, the depth, the size. He saw it there, in the darkness of his mind. The building. And he thought of colors. And they came. They surrounded it, encapsulated it, overtook it. It was becoming something new, something it hadn't been before. And it kept changing and taking on different forms, and everything new was inspired by everything old. But Wallace wanted something else. He wanted something new inspired by something new. But no matter how he tried, he couldn't make it happen. He opened his eyes again, the building coming back into view again, along with the rest of the surrounding city. He sighed, disappointed in himself. He had been running into this problem a bit recently. His brain wanted desperately to create something new and original, something people had never seen. But no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't seem-- The door burst open, and in marched Mr. Clark, the most stressed out man on the planet. He basically dragged the woman in behind him. She was thin, she had white-ish hair, she looked really tired, but that also looked like it was intentional. In her arm was a guitar bag, which she was clutching on to with her life. She looked just as confused as he probably did. "Wallace Conlee." Mr Clark said, gesturing to the woman behind him. "Meet Bethany Novikov. You'll both be working together on a few projects for the next few months." Wallace was dumbfounded. His jaw had been hanginging open ever so slightly since the two of them burst into the room, his brow contorted into a look of concern for not only Mr. Clark, but the overwhelmed woman he had thrown into the room as well. Neither of them knew what was happening here. "Oh... um... what?" Wallace said, looking to Mr Clark. He glared back, making Wallace take a step away. "Um, sorry, I just... I dont exactly understand whats happening. We're working together, I get that, but um... on what? How?"

Ryan Clarke fiddled with the lock on his briefcase as he stood against the table, "Mostly just little things- although that does not mean that they are not all the more necessary- like commercials for food products. Bethany here'll write jingles. You sketch cartoony faces and design box sleeves." When he opened the briefcase he began to draw out the contracts, copied and recopied for both. Once he organized the stacks of papers he crowned them with a pen each. The agent stood back and looked between the two, he clasped his hands together, "I'll be right back with coffee- which should give enough time for the both of you to get to know each other a bit." He stroked his tie as he glanced at Bethany before leaving the room. She had been looking at him, this Wallace, while Ryan was talking. She had dropped her guitar on the couch as an excuse to make her way to the window. But she couldn't concentrate on anything in the city. Instead she looked over at Wallace. He was scruffy looking. She hadn't met any of the artists yet- but he looked like an artist. "Hey." She said, extending a hand out to him as she smiled, "Nice to meet you."

Wallace's face dropped for a moment at the mention of 'sketching cartooney faces.' He glared at the back of Mr. Clark's head as he exited the room, only barely noticing that Bethany had crossed to the couch. He was thinking of perhaps going up to Ryan and berating him. Or punching him in the back of the head. Or-- "Hey." A voice rang out, breaking his concentration. He tuned to face Bethany, only now being able to completely notice her. Her hand was extended to him, a warm, welcoming smile on her face. She looked nice, well put together, clean, that type of person. He looked over himself in his minds eye, tracing back to this morning, hoping he looked at least a little bit presentable. Head: Slightly unkempt hair on my head, pushed up. A bit of scruff on my face. Didn't have time to shave this morning. Torso: A blue and gray cardigan with a useless collar that's at least two sizes too big for me and a plain white shirt. No stains, so that's a plus, I guess. Lower: Brown khaki skinny jeans. Boots. Normal. Fuck, I should have prepared for this. I look stupid. Shit. Damn. Shit. Okay, whatever. IT's too late now. Just greet her. Shake. Go. He extended his hand, taking hers in his and giving it a shake. He smiled back at her. "Likewise." he said, hiding the clear annoyance he was showing not three seconds ago. "Nice to finally meet you, too."

"Nice to finally meet you, too." She averted her eyes at that and nervously flicked her braid back behind a shoulder as she laughed. It was quick and tense- because she had made a stranger wait for her and she wondered if this bothered him. Even though punctuality wasn't exactly her forte it was still a growing demand in her life. In fact she had been trying recently to work on that by setting alarms and such. She was such a heavy sleeper though.. "Yeah- Sorry about that. I had a few things back at home to take care of." Which was a boldface lie. The girl had no idea why she had to give an excuse anyway, she was already late and nothing could change that. She stepped around the table and sat down in front of a contract. She took up a pen and twiddled it between her fingers. Although she was sure Clark would summarize the document page by page she was so nervous that she scanned the first page in vain. Picking out words that popped out at her: agent, clientele, Alphafind, disclaimer, creative process- Bethany glanced up at Wallace then- the weight of it all settling in only just now. She'd be tied to him by these contracts for months. They'd have to come up with ideas together and agree on them- but what if they were stark opposites? What if working with this guy only brought more stress into her life? She dropped the pen down on the contract once more and leaned back in her chair, she looked up at him expectantly, "Interview time. Whats your star sign? Do you like cats or dogs? Are you a spaghetti and meatball person or are you all about ravioli?" Her smile was small, but the corners of her eyes were pinched in a mischievous way, tinged with child-like curiosity.

Wallace immediately regretted his word choice when he saw her reactions to it. She had suddenly become bashful, nervous, and full of excuses. He was trying his hardest to lighten the mood with a joke or something, but he messed up pretty badly, judging by the outcome. When she turned away, he hit the side of his head a few times with his palm, nervous now, too, and a little angry with himself. He really didn't want to mess this up. Partly because he was bound to her through a contract, and partly because he wanted to actually be able to talk to someone new. He tried to think of something, anything else to say to her, but he just couldn't seem to make anything come out. Lucky for him, she started asking questions. Lots of questions. Wow, they were coming fast. He stood there, a deer-in-headlights look plastered on his face. He wasn't particularly a good person to interview. Not that he was bad at it, he just didn't really think he was all that interesting. But, he tried to answer to the best of his abilities. "Ah! Um, Aries! Cats! Spa--no, Ravioli!" He fired out his answers in quick succession, and now found himself standing in the middle of the room stiffly, a dumb smile on his face. He stepped forwards after a small moment and sat down in the chair across the table from her, looking over at her as he folded his arms in front of himself. "Did I pass the test?" he asked, his dumb smile changing to a more genuine one.

Her smile broadened at his hurried manner in replying to her questions. She settled in to her chair, growing slightly more comfortable. "Hah I'm not testing you- but we're total opposites." She said as she picked up the pen again and played with it, flipping it through her fingers. Her gaze fell on her hand as she concentrated on the hand trick, "I'm a Scorpio- which is a water sign. Aries is fire, I think. And I'm more of a dog person- I grew up with a hound/lab mix. And I don't like ravioli." She shrugged, "But no big deal." The pen flipped out of her hand and fell to the floor. She huffed before stooping over to look under the table for it. After a moment she snatched the pen up again and she shot back up to look at him. "So, Wallace, any questions for me?" Bethany wondered if putting him on the spot was exactly the best way to form a business relationship. Agh but she hated these awkward introductions and testing-the-waters banter that everyone went through when they first meet new people. What do you do? Where did you go to school? Where did you grow up? Oh how is it there? What do you do for fun? Blah blah blah. It bored her to tears. She wanted someone to have an original conversation with her. She looked expectantly at him. Who's more original than an artist? She thought. Okay, yeah, maybe asking zodiac signs wasn't the most original thing but at least its out there. Her thoughts swam and sounded conflicted.

Wallace thought for a moment, his face dropping in concentration, flicking through questions in his mind, trying to pick out the best one. He didn't want to make small talk. He didn't want to ask about the weather, or what her favorite television show was, or if she liked ice cream. He wanted to get to the heart of the matters at hand. He wanted to find out what made Ryan and the rest of Alphafind want them to work together. And, like that, he got it. He found the question he wanted to ask. He leaned in a bit, his elbows resting on the table. His eyes met hers, and he asked her. "What inspires you?" He said, smiling a bit. "I mean, what really gets inside your head, finds the core, rips it out, and throws it down on paper for everyone to see? Like--like, for me, at first, I was just inspired by the idea of creation. Like, I thought the idea of... of creating something new, something nobody has ever seen before in the history of the world was absolutely amazing. And I try to do that--I try to think of that Idea every single time I begin tow work and I just try to...create." He was smiling widely now, unable to contain the excitement that had been building up inside of him. He loved talking about it, he truly did.

She was taken aback by his sudden excited talk and, of course, the loaded question. He wasted no time, she thought. "What inspires me?" She echoed, just to stall for time. Bethany tapped on her lower lip as she rested her elbows on the table and looked up toward the ceiling. She sat like this in a pensive silence for a moment before she dropped her gray eyes to look over at him once more. "Well- I guess a lot of things inspire me. I like to be outside- in the world- and experience as much as I can. Like- I'll walk down the street and if I see anything interesting I'll add meaning to it. People and faces become music notes. Anything that catches my eye, really, can turn into a note. And then i'll collage it all together. How I feel determines a lot, too." She felt like her explanation was a little too vague but she couldn't find the words to clarify for him. "But making something unique-" she said, turning the conversation back on him, "thats great. Sucks that you're stuck designing cereal boxes." She said with a smile to show she meant no harm. "Then again- jingles aren't exactly what I imagined doing here either." She glanced down at the contract and grimaced for a moment. Her braid had fallen off her shoulder and on to it, she quickly flicked her hair away. "You should show me some of your stuff sometime." She said, "And i'll show you mine." Just then the door opened and Ryan Clarke stepped in. He settled the coffee's down before them and sat on the opposite end of the table, his own copy of the contract before him. He glanced quickly between them, "Well then. Hope you've gotten to know each other a bit- but lets get down to business, shall we?" Beth nodded, turning her attention down to her braid again, playing with it and inspecting it out of boredom. Seeing this her agent set his mouth in a fine line before looking over at Wallace, "I've a meeting in about half an hour- so I'll just be summarizing page by page. Feel free to take it home but your decisions must be made before tomorrow morning at 9 am." He said measuredly, looking between them every now and then. (Want him to talk about the contract or do you just want to skip this part?)

(Sure, I dont see why we can't have him talk about it!) Wallace leaned back in his chair, sighing a little as Mr. Clark started speaking. It wasnt that he necessarily hated his agent--even though he was about 76% sure his agent hated him-- so to speak. It was just, y'know, he was incredibly annoying, and sort of a dick. He needed to calm down and have some tea with honey or something, because he never seemed to stop. But Wallace didn't see him changing any time soon. Wallace looked over to Bethany, who seemed to be paying attention. He thought about what she said, about how people and faces and stuff become music notes. And about how she draws inspiration from everything around her. It reminded him of how he could close his eyes and construct worlds of art, inspired by the word around him. He thought that it was really cool that her process of creation was similar to his. She seemed cool. Did he seem cool? Wallace froze for a moment, his face frozen in a state of 'i need to go over everything I just did with this person to make sure I didn't fuck up'. Did she think he was nice? Did she think he was neat? Interesting? That was something that mattered. Did she think she could work with him? He hoped he didn't come off as an idiot, that would be bad. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous tick he had. A thousand questions were suddenly racing through his head, and he had zero answers. Stop, shut the fuck up, don't be stupid. Listen to your stupid agent. And with that, Wallace snapped back to attention, focusing on Mr. Clark instead.