It took Avicia ten minutes to get to Sunset Boulevard and an additional ten minutes to find Java Brava. Crowds thronged the streets, bustling from one store to the next. Traffic lumbered and sped down the street, in a litany of mechanical noises. Somewhere, she heard a tour guide's megaphone give a garbled explanation. She almost passed the unassuming coffee shop as she anxiously sought it.

It was a surprisingly small storefront, wedged between an old bookstore and an antique store. Through the window, it gave off the typical air of a coffee shop. Warm, earthy reds and browns; cozy lighting; shelving that housed books and knick knacks. She noticed, while peeking in, a shelf ran along the perimeter of the store, set up with tiny chairs and tables. Further back, there were large stalls, made for larger bodies like centaurs, minotaurs, and more.

An indie and accessible coffee shop was really not what Avicia expected. She glanced down the street, at the corner, where a more corporate BuckStar stood in bright, flashy glory.

Kahdreg seemed more the quantity over quality sort, when it came to caffeine. Vaguely, she wondered if the BuckStar was new, if Kahdreg didn't know of its existence, before shrugging and pushing into Java Brava.

A burst of pleasantly cool air licked over Avicia as she entered. Inside, an array of people sat, quietly sipping and talking over baked goods. Behind the counter, two workers - a demon and a human - flitted between refilling products or cleaning. The scent of vanilla and caramel and coffee filled the air, making Avicia's stomach grumble a little.

As soon as the baristas saw Kahdreg's order, they knew where she had come from. They both flashed her sympathetic smiles.

"Newbie?" asked the demon, their lips quirked in a cockeyed grin. Their work visor hung across one horn, as if they couldn't be bothered to put it all the way on.

"Is it that obvious?" She laughed, pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

As the two baristas started on the orders, Avicia dropped a tip in the jar and situated herself in a chair not far from the counter. She watched the two work for a moment, envying how they seemed to easily work around one another. There was a sense of camaraderie and, briefly, she wondered what the pay was in this shop.

Probably nowhere close to a personal assistant's salary.

Pulling out her personal cell phone, her eye gleaned over messages from friends and patrons. She shot off a message on her Bellamy Bluebell social media; vaguely explaining her change in situation and how she wasn't sure if it'd put a hiccup in her schedule, just yet.

By the time she was done with that, the demon barista called her name, listing off her orders. As she came up to the counter, the barista winked at her and pushed the full cup carrier. After taking a second to scrawl something on the paper, the receipt also slid across the counter. They grinned down at Avicia, pointed teeth gleaming in the light. "Chin up. First day is always the hardest, right?"

When Avicia glanced at the receipt, she realized they'd given her their personal number. Her eyes flickered up to them and, for a fraction of a second, the demon's flirtatious smile faltered with nerves. The appearance of her smile eased their shoulders. She gave them a nod while thanking them, before steeling herself to make the journey back to the film studio.

Though, she could've done without the hot drinks on such a sweltering day, she felt she'd grappled well with this sudden gofer order.

Until she came up to the production lot's gates, realizing she didn't have her badge, yet.

"Badge?" The guard on duty monotonously asked, stepping outside his guard post to address her. His nametag said 'Frank' and, in smaller font below, 'he/him.' He was human, but his build could put many minotaur's to shame. She could easily see him as a bodybuilder in his off-time and briefly wondered if he also worked as a bouncer during the evening.

"I'm new. I haven't even gotten my badge." Avicia winced and smiled awkwardly. Between the situation, the hot drinks, and the warm day, miserable heat slinked up her body. She licked her lips, nodding toward the guard's post with a hopeful tone in her voice, "Could you just-"

The guard cut her off, holding up a hand to silence her. "No badge, no entry."

Fear and anger gripped at Avicia's chest. Her eyebrows dipped into a 'v' as she spat back her own command, "Call Director Vidaroc. He can vouch for me!"

The air round the guard changed. His eyes widened, just enough, and his shoulders tensed with uncertainty. Then, he narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms as his footing shifted. "What do you do, then?"

"I'm Vidaroc's personal assistant," she hissed and was gratified by the surprise returning to the guard's eyes.

He turned around, mumbling a curse under his breath as he stomped back to the guard's post. Dialing in a number, leering at Avicia the whole while, she could only watch his mouth move. After waiting for a few minutes - probably for Kahdreg to answer the blasted call - a wince scrunched the guard's face. Avicia had to keep a grin from her lips as he held the phone away from his ear. Yes, he certainly got in touch with her boss.

When the guard returned, he scowled at Avicia, face flushed from being reamed into.

"Did you get ahold of Mr. Vidaroc?" She couldn't help the dig.

With a thumb, he pointed into the filming studio as the entrance gate rose. "Make sure you have your badge next time."

Avicia nodded, marching passed the guard and the barrier with her shoulders set. Surprisingly, it didn't take her long to retrace her steps and locate the filming location. Almost as soon as she entered, the supervisors swarmed her, plucking their drinks from the trays and gushing gratitude before being swallowed up by the chaos again.

She blinked, still recovering from the brief chaos. Her focus returned just as Kahdreg approached her. He relieved her of his drink, before holding out a hand to her. "Receipt?"

"Yes- Oh, wait!" Avicia tore the paper back, pulling out her phone to take a quick snapshot of both the coffee shop's phone number and the barista's digits. She smiled innocently up at Kahdreg, before handing the paper over. Pulling her sweetest expression and most innocent tone, she explained, "If I have the coffeehouse's number, I can call ahead next time."

He raised an eyebrow at her actions, eyes not leaving her until he side-eyed the receipt now in his hand. A snort left his lips. "Right. Has nothing to with this note about your 'beautiful smile?'"

Passing nearby, Elyon gave a theatrical gasp, putting her free hand to her chest as if she were utterly scandalized. "Kahdreg! Such wanton flirtation! If you're not careful, Avicia will call HR on you for sexual harassment."

The orc spun around so fast, Avicia felt the breeze of the movement, before he growled out, "Choke on your frap, Elyon!"

Unlike the other crew members that paused or jumped at the echoing snarl, Elyon just cackled and continued on her way. Kahdreg turned back to Avicia in a huff. She watched the two with a curious gaze. Faintly wondering how long the two had known one another.

"Anyway, your work cell and tablet arrived, Ms. Thorn." Motioning to where she'd been sitting earlier, Avicia noted the cellphone and tablet in her spot. Along with what looked like a couple files and - hopefully - a badge on a lanyard. Leading her to her spot, Kahdreg continued, "Get synced up with my contacts and calendar. The file has instructions for all of it. If you're hungry, lunch will be served at the craft table in-"

He didn't finish his instructions, before his attention was caught something. Before Avicia could say a word, the director was storming across the set, drink in hand and bellowing displeasure at a poor worker. Avicia watched him stalk off, lips twisted a bit in displeasure. With a shrug and a sigh, she turned to her new work tech and the file atop.

—

Night had fallen by the time Avicia ambled into her apartment. Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids, brain pounding from all the additional information she'd ingested. With care, she placed the work phone and tablet on her cluttered dining room table, before turning to the pile of mail she'd picked up from her mailbox in the main foyer of her apartment building.

Flipping through the mail, she sighed. Junk, junk, phone bill, junk, and two more medical bills. She tacked the bills to her refrigerator, intending to pay them what she could in the morning, before heading into her bedroom to change. She had barely gotten into her comfortable pajamas when a foreign sound chimed.

Avicia's eyebrows furrowed, sticking her head out of her bedroom. The chime sounded again, familiar but... wrong. That wasn't her cellphone.

Suddenly, it hit her. With a heavy sigh, Avicia trudged into the kitchen to retrieve her work phone. Faintly, as she keyed in her code, she hoped it was just a random e-mail or reminder she could address in the morning.

No such luck. It was a text from one 'Director Vidaroc.'

Great.

'You need to sync my appointments to my calendar, NOW. Your predecessor skimped on keeping it up-to-date and I missed an important meeting this evening. Fix it.'

Avicia frowned at the words. Her shift was over! She was about to type exactly that when she paused. Narrowing her eyes, she jabbed out, 'Do I get overtime for after-hours work?'

'E-mail your extra hours every week to me, I'll verify whether you're full of shit or not before it goes to accounting.'

Avicia's frown deepened to a scowl, but - regardless - she punched back. 'Thank you, sir.'

Taking a look at her cellphone, noting the time, she grabbed her work tablet and wandered into her living room. By the time her email opened, Avicia had settled into the couch. There were quite a number of unread emails in her personal work account, already. Most referenced the former assistant's backlog. As Vidaroc's personal assistant, she also had to monitor his business account. Which meant most of those correspondences had to do with appointments or something Vidaroc deemed too menial for his attention.

There was a new email from Vidaroc - sent an hour ago - demanding she double-check all recent appointments. Further, she was to go through the backlog of emails and rectify whatever the former PA had failed at.

Tapping over to the calendar, she groaned. There were multitudes of highlighted times and dates, in various colors. Meetings with investors, execs, actors, producers, and some phrases - were those people's names or companies? - she didn't find familiar. She could already tell, after gleaning over the correspondences, many were in the wrong spot or canceled.

Heaving a sigh, Avicia heaved herself from the couch to find a notebook and pencil. This was going to take some time to untangle. It took some figuring out and, by the end, she had two pieces of scratch paper, with a multitude of crossed out times and appointments. With two highlighters, she found the appointments that needed to be swapped or entered in, before setting to work on the tablet.

After the third appointment entry, her phone chimed with a text.

She nearly threw it across the room, seeing Kahdreg's text: 'Took you long enough.'

Avicia took a deep breath, stilling the agitation in her chest. What a goddamn asshole. She gritted her teeth and, carefully, tapped out a reply: 'I'm sorry, sir. There were redundant times, reschedules, and cancellations.'

Checking the calendar for whatever important meeting the director had missed, Avicia hoped to still the fiery itch in her gut. If it was so important, maybe she could justify his callous texts.

All she could find with a single line: Dinner with Naera.

That just made the fire in her stomach burn hotter, her grip on her work phone making the plastic creak. To herself, she growled, "Keep track of your dinner dates yourself, you pompous ass."

To Kahdreg, she sent: 'Can you take a look at the calendar and see if everything looks in order, sir?'

A return text didn't ricochet back. Chewing on her lip, Avicia stood and went to the bathroom for a soak, needing space from the piece of tech that tied her to Director Vidaroc. She checked the phone again, when she was done with her bath.

Still nothing. Avicia tossed the phone onto the couch, a little ire in the motion, and stomped off to bed.

What an utter ass he was.

—

A month into her job as a personal assistant, Avicia felt she found her groove. The workdays slid by and she'd carved a place among the crew. She even managed to squeeze in her Bellamy Bluebell shows on the weekends, even if it utterly exhausted her. At least she had Sundays free to recoup and visit her father.

She'd fallen into a comfort zone. Which was why, one morning, when she handed Kahdreg a couple items she had retrieved from his dry cleaners, she could tell something was off.

The rest of the crew bustled about the set, intently giving the director a wide berth. It was like watching a river part around a boulder. He'd been glaring at his phone, lips twisted into a frown, not even deigning Avicia with a look as he accepted the clothing from her. The air crackled around him with an extra dose of agitation. The aura evidently keeping other co-workers at bay.

But Avicia's stomach sunk when his gaze flickered to her. The movement was sharp and intent, as if an idea had just smacked him upside the jaw and snapped his head in her direction. "Do you have any formalwear?"