tomas-visser

[tomas-visser]

don’t tell juno and the cats, he’s been hanging out with dogs.

[tomas-visser]

jade.

That kind of comment didn’t fit the pillsbury dick she knew. Where was he getting off on saying something like that? “Trust me,” she stressed out to him, blonde strands swaying from the way her head bobbed in his direction, “it wasn’t an invite.” Attention went back to her shoes. “You’re too neutered to need it, anyways,” she tacked on.

The single strap slid back up her ankle, thick and functional, no style to it. She’d burn them on the spot if she knew they’d be replaced with something else. What did it matter, though? She’d be out and done with this scene soon, as long as Tomas behaved like he was supposed to. Snide remarks like those were not allowed in the plans. “What the fuck are you saying? That I have big feet?”

"Thanks for your concern," Tomas scoffed at the backhanded insult back at him, bests they get all this animosity out of the way before the cameras roll and they have to pretend it be, god forbid, falling in love. It's a huge blessing that half this dance number, they're meant to be annoyed at each other anyways. What a waste of a lovely night indeed.

He worked out a few of the tricky steps and went over them a couple of times. Muscle memory working through the motions of what they've practiced for months. "Why do you think everything's an insult?" The words were said under his breath but loud enough to be heard over tapping. "I'm just saying be careful," he sighed as he worked on his backward jump up onto the bench, suddenly towering her from above. Huh, the bench was smaller than he remembered, to tap on this.. "Let's just not break anything." It's not like they haven't prepared like 5 replacements for everything anyways. "..I haven't seen the city like this before."

[tomas-visser]

julian.

Julian’s shoulders shrug, quickly and dismissively, as if the topic of a wedding ceremony is common. It is not the reason why he proposed to Claudia, and it is not the reason why she said yes. In comparison to the actual marriage, the party itself is of little concern. “The ceremony? We aren’t,” he answers with usual bluntness. “If we were? We would not have anyone touch it.” It’s a seamless segway to the planners themselves, who are named for Tomas’ sake. “Felix. Jade.” That is all he says on the matter, moving on to take another sip of the coffee his guest has brought for him.

“You have something to share?” he prompts, glancing pointedly at the ideas scribbled on the other’s pad. “List them.”

Tomas chuckles at the thought of the two of them managing their own wedding, "sounds about right," it would definitely be a whole production indeed, they'd probably get call sheets and a call time for the wedding day. It was an excitement Tomas couldn't deny until he paused in his tracks hearing the names of those who were actually planning it out. "..J-Jade?" The name came out as a breathless stutter, natural instinct was to immediately back out of doing anything involving contributing to the wedding, ie the cake. "Oh.." was the most Tomas could out of his mouth, panic flashes across his eyes while he clutched onto his notebook.

When his attention was directed to it, he looked down to his scribbled notes and rough sketches, and immediately tighten his clutch against his chest, losing all confidence in the ideas that have been floating around, shaking his head and instinctively taking a step back. "I mean.. it's just- I was thinking.. purple? So lavender.. Earl Grey, but but-- no maybe not- sorry that was just off the top off my head, I'll just go back to think about it more, draft out a proper proposal or- something." If Jade had any way in any of it, it was already going to be a nightmare. Was it too late to back out?

[tomas-visser]

marcelo.

We don’t use words like naive. We say honest instead. Tomas de Visser. There’s that honest boy we want to know more about. He’s the type you’d trust with anything, especially a cheese souffle. Oh, were there rounds of laughter that day in the office, pure lightning in that brainstorming session when his file reached the department. There was never a reason to question Cora; it wasn’t even an action that was considered. To shed any light on the why was a fool’s errand, but he could provide some moral support, at least. “She saw something special in you. We all did, and we still do!” An uplifting turn delivered in a one-two punch before Marc is able to take a drink from his order. “No, no. We never met. You were our Ronaldo on the field while we were stationed at the goalpost. On the same team, but paths never meant to intersect.” Sound analogy. He’ll recycle it for a wider audience.

“Yes, a brother, thank you for refreshing my memory. Skylar? And… sisters. Twins?” He remembers that in the profile quite distinctly. There’s still untapped potential in that family, but their file has not circled back to his desk to do much more. Besides, the offer of a cookie is rude not to acknowledge. “How do you say that again? Ishercookie? That sounds outstanding, thank you…” His eyes drift off of it slowly before popping back to Tomas. “Why don’t I airdrop my contact info?”

He casted a look of doubt masked by a bashful smile, polite in everywhere possible, "I'm sure it wasn't that impressive." It's been a few years but the masterchef days were still fresh in his mind, a stark reminder for giving up everything, for family. He's still deciding if it was the right choice, but his papa still lives, right? It started off with getting as far as he could to get a pro-rated fees, maybe 2nd or 3rd place prize. And now he stood in front another face that may have had a hand in picking him. The analogy felt strange purely because he still can't be sure if on the same team is accurate here. But he simply bowed his head in thanks, "well- even though we've never met, thank you, I guess.. did you ever get to try my cooking?" Tomas asked hesitantly, curious to know, have the judging ever even really considered his skills at all.

"Oh-- yes.. yeah, we're quite a big family," Tomas laughed it off, big, noisy, suffocating, but still family, still more than ever heightened to alert for his baby sister throwing herself at this. "Yes, that's close, it's ai-zer-kookieye," Tomas slows down the pronunciation, "it’s an ancestral recipe for fishermen, this one, my parents are adamant it gets passed down for generations since well.. Visser, Fishermen." If he hadn't heard this same story over and over again since he could comprehend speech as a baby. Pretty sure his mama had to convince his papa not to make a fish pun with their bakery name. He couldn't help but sneak his own piece and took a bite into it, a piece of home, never changing despite everything else. He paused, taking a second to process what he meant and nodded quickly, "oh- sure-" Tomas fumbled for his phone almost dropping it onto the counter, "let me know, if- if you need anything, for Prometheus or the bakery."

[tomas-visser]

simon.

“Yo, don’t get tight with me, man. What did you think would happen when you started throwing cheese anywhere? That’s got to be a big ass rat you’re coming for.” What the fuck was mimolette, anyways? Didn’t sound like he was supposed to know, but time was better spent watching him take the last chunk of cheese off his fork. “What’s wrong with the rind, Tommy boy…” Simon’s face screwed up, torn between believing it had been eating and convincing himself that he hadn’t. “What happens if you eat the rind? What big D is it? Death or diarrhea?–No homo, but could you stick your finger down my throat? Got a weird gag reflex, man, don’t make it weirder by looking at me like that.”

"I didn't.. it was.. in a package, it should've been directed to me." The words came out without much breath nor fight, more in shock than anything. It can't physically be possible to finish the whole roll, right? Tomas tried to sooth himself with convincing thoughts, looking into the delivery package. He sighs in relief that at the very least the chestnuts have not been touched. And this was just the single first package. There should be more coming for the episode itself.. he'll make do for now. Tomas will have to make sure to personally sign it next time. "Technically.. it's edible. There's just cheese mites on the rind that could cause allergic reactions.." there was a reason it's banned in the US. It took way too much to legally bring it here. Probably best to not let Simon know that he just consumed technically illegal cheese. "No- you don't have to uh.. you'll be fine, just.. be careful, see a doctor if anything comes up," he sighed, closing the box shut before the chestnuts were sucked up as well now that the cheese was gone, "I was going to taste test the rind myself, just to make sure anyways."

[tomas-visser]

zoe.

“For sure, duh!” Zoe’s laugh was perched on uncertainty, which she hoped was concealed enough by rolling eyes and a quick shake of her head. Of course she knew about his sister. She knew more about Tomas de Visser and other contracts than she may have known about her own family, but that wasn’t the sticking point that showed in how she bit her lower lip. “So, like… you can make chocolate from scratch…?” she trailed off, eyes shifting away as she adjusted the strap on her purse. Stupid question, better to leave it behind her, replace it with the new news.

“New recipe, okay! Is there like a special occasion going on or something?” Head tilted, spirit reinvigorated by potential. It could mean all sorts of things. New television special, catering a high-profile party, guest appearances, so many options. “Sounds fancy! I’ve never had a chestnut before. They’re pretty much like festive walnuts, right? Kinda Christmasey.”

She followed his lead, reverting to looking for the package while they chatted, even if Zoe’s heart was more in the conversation than the search. “Oh, you know! The usge! Checking out a lead and stuff.–Maybe you could help! Cause you and Charles Irons are lowkey close, right? I mean Dunkirk and now La La Land… adds up, you know? You’d make awesome besties!”

"I know.. the basics, but I'm definitely not an expert on extracting cocoa, mostly just tempering than anything else." Thinking back to training with chocolate and tempering only gave slight traumatising flashbacks. "Anyways, I'll leave the chocolate making to the real experts," no point wasting precious ingredients if he doesn't know what he's doing with them.

He shook his head quickly the moment the small detail was picked up by Zoe almost immediately and questioned. "No no, just- no new occasion, I test out new recipes all the time." He quickly dodged the question, should he be the cause of something leaking out before it should. But his interest piqued the moment she let out a small detail, blinking in confusion as he paused his search, "you've.. never had a chestnut before? Oh- you totally should. You can have some- if we find the package.." he grumbled remembering that state of his missing chestnuts after freely offering it up to her. "They're really good roasted over fire. Not really just for Christmas, mont blanc's make great use of chestnuts too." It's been awhile since he's had a good use of chestnuts, so the prospects truly was exciting.

He frowned at the picture sent of where the package was left, and who signed it, comparing the picture to reality. "Me?" Tomas repeated her words, on an edge hearing she's chasing a lead, hoping that lead wasn't him. No offense to her. "Charles Irons? Well we're-" Tomas stopped himself, seeing the pitfall he was falling into. We're close was what he wanted to say and let slip. Probably not good to let his words be used against him, and Charles. "Um- what about Charles?"

[tomas-visser]

claudia.

“what’s wrong with cake for breakfast.” she prodded back, though the bite was taken away by her glance to the box, the decorations within that seemed altogether too elaborate for the moment. they were indeed cakes for breakfast, and extremely nice ones at that. she racked her brain for an occasion that she might have missed, recentering the light at hand as though the second task might make it all easier. 

“i’m going to tell him you said that.” she laughed, the ring flashed in the light, and her heart swelled. the kind of joke that was easy to be made when there was no one else, there never had been. the prospects of one given over to time and patience until they arrived at this final destination. “the fire guy.” repeated as though it’s more to herself than anyone else, that there’s something uniquely funny to the idea. there is of course, and there’s finally for once in her life the stability to accept it without offense. “i didn’t really think about it. telling anyone. you’d figure it out.”

"Well--" Tomas didn't expect her to go with the absurdity as he blinked and tried to find the reasoning. "I mean.. nothing wrong per se, but y'know, balanced diet and all that. As a chef, I wouldn't recommend it." Tomas doubt he'd be able to stomach cake for breakfast in all honesty unless it was for work. Or well, birthdays. Cakes were all day for birthdays. It was always a huge cake left for everyone and anytime that they could steal a bit in between services. Which was kinda what he hoped to just leave here on set for them, shoved into the mini fridge for whenever they were free.

"Who, Jose?" It was an instinctual response to continue the act. But the low key panic settled in by the fact of Julian knowing anything he might've said wrong, "wait okay okay no no no, please don't tell him I said that, he'd kill me, and the fire guy," he tried to clasp his hands with the small plea, a grin still on his face knowing the glimmer of amusement on hers. "Julian told me, actually.." Tomas explained softly, getting more of a shock when he first heard it till now, the ring was a new sight but more of a confirmation than anything else. "Didn't think I'd be adding wedding cakes to my resume. Any requests? Julian refused to give me directions for once."

[tomas-visser]

zoe.

Her mom had wanted her to get a job as a receptionist once–well, it was more like a hostess–but Zoe was never built for it. She was glad for it, but in a pinch I guess she sufficed as one for Tomas’ sake. Almost. The ice in her mocha jangled against the walls of the Starbucks cup, forced by her whims in movement as she searched for the box, twisting around in place and craning her neck beyond the desk in front of them. “Uhm, I mean, it’s gotta be around here somewhere, right? If you got a notification, those def don’t lie. Amazon is like super good about that stuff lately. They take a pic and everything. Sounds really fancy whatever it is!” She hoped she was being encouraging, even when the end result was coming up short. “Is it like some pretty rare Parisian chocolate? …Is that a thing? Sounds like a thing.”

Tomas was wary seeing Zoe beside him, worrying what might end up on the news again if anything escalated. But nonetheless he was thankful for the extra pair of eyes as she started looking with him. "Yeah I got the alert much earlier than I thought this morning and I was still at the bakery so.." he fumbled for his phone to swipe over the alert with the photo attached and parcel signed. Tomas sighed into a laugh, "they know their chocolate yes but I'll stick to Dutch chocolate." As much as Tomas loves chocolate, he couldn't compare to his sister’s artistry. 

"Actually.. it's lemons and chestnuts," which now as he says it out loud, sounds completely ridiculous and overly extra to be shipping from France, "I mean- they're specifically regional grown and I'm working on a new recipe-" The only reason why he's always so eager to step back into Masterchef as a guest judge every single time, is that the show gives him pretty much free reign on whatever crazy dessert he brings for their pressure test. They're all usually free to discuss their shows within the Prometheus building, but he shut his mouth remembering who he was speaking to, doubting that journalists have signed the same NDA with Prometheus. "What got you visiting here this time?" Tomas tried to change to subject with a soft greeting smile as he started searching around the reception.

[tomas-visser]

simon.

“They did you so dirty with this frottage.” Crumbs of cheese are dripping out of Simon’s mouth as he talks and chews at the same time, fork held in his right hand with another small slab of it pierced. “You got fucked, brother. This is as fragile as a stripper’s left ass cheek, you feel me? Take a bite.”

"What-.." colour drained from his face seeing someone so quickly eat the cheese that had taken so long to get here. A small morsel still stuck on a fork. "Did- did you just.." Tomas stared in disbelieve still trying to process what happened and what he had to do next. "It's mimolette.." the French cheese was hard to come by in the US after some hissy fit over health concerns, and it took a lot to try and bring a few over. "Please don't tell me you ate the rind," Tomas sighed plucking off the piece from Simon to give it a taste test, eyes widening at the realisation over his palate, "this isn't.. where's the rest of the box?"

[tomas-visser]

marcelo.

Tomas Visser! The poster-child for Prometheus’ proven track-record of success, the shining example of how hard-work and a heavy sprinkling of public relations could turn your boy-next-door into A-list material. Why he had taken a break was incomprehensible, and when the question boomeranged back, Marc had to laugh. No agent that had their head in the game would have ever let it occur, but the humor came in the delivery. He remembered that naive charm all too well, perfectly encapsulating the Visser brand he helped construct once upon a time.

“Oh, no. There are no misters on this team,” he told him, feeling the weight of his floating fist that had not been touched before presenting it again, enough to actually bump into Tomas’. “There we go. No worries; we got it in the end before the buzzer,” he joked before the smile was given, the one publicly registered under Marc Rico Ltd. “Call me Marc. I’m proud to say that I took the lead on your case during your Masterchef days. I knew from square one there was a reason Cora forwarded her recommendation to my team.” Eyes welled with self-congratulation, the nod of approval to a job well done to both of them before eyes were flicking down and then up. A moment of pause. “Is this your…” his eyes squinted for a second, pointer poised at him to warn Tomas not to tell him, “…mother’s…. no father’s bakery! I remember. Wow…” The nods continued, each one softer than the last, the consolation that they spoke to unrivaled. “I’m going to have to give you a shoutout for taking it to the next level when I get back in the office.”

The laugh in reply only intensified his confusion, mind running a mile trying to think what might've happened with his agent, probably good to text him later.. Or would that spook him? Tomas wanted to ask again for elaboration but the man was quick to move on, completely missing the fist waiting for greeting before coming to his senses. He awkwardly bumped the fist again, hand then hanging weirdly in the air, "oh- sorry.." before finally dropping it and busying both his hands to clean the counter. Not that it really needed cleaning. "My case..- I had a case?" The talk of Masterchef brought back bad and weird and wonderful memories, a mix of bitter sweet, of hope and regret. "I'm.. surprised she had anything to say, I met Cora like once during that whole competition.. I'm so sorry if you might've been at the competition as well and we never met, I was-- preoccupied with.. yknow.." cooking. Now looking back in retrospect, he couldn't help start thinking about what they were thinking and talking about him behind the scenes. What made them tried to propose rigging the entire competition for him. What did they even see in him? Did they bet on him to fail for a quick buck?

But while his mind stewed on that another question had raised from Marc, "It's.. both of theirs, family business really," a small smile if nostalgia cracked through his lips, doubt papa would've survived without mama. "O-oh uh, thank you.. but my brother runs this ship here, I just came back home to help out." Skylar wouldn't let Tomas make any drastic changes to the menu no matter how hard he tried. Could've at least given him one menu slot to do experimental pastries for having left his life in Paris. "Uh, cookie?" Tomas reached over to the tray of oval cookies that brought a soft comforting waft of warm cinnamon, a Visser traditional as his father would always preach, some ancient fisherman snack that runs deep in their ancestors, "IJzerkoekje, they'll go well with your coffee, especially this winter."

[tomas-visser]

claudia.

“just fine.” but she’s smiling, a teasing quality that doesn’t quite leave her voice. the happiness that even gesturing to it has come to spark in her isn’t something that she’s ever known before. she doesn’t know what to say about the ring that’s on her finger, if it started, there was a chance it would become an avalanche of feelings that didn’t need to really be stated. not before breakfast, at least. or whenever she’d end up going through his basket of treats. “you’re the chef.” 

now that she has a stand in she can begin fiddling with the lights that she’s already put in place, getting the angles right for the background that needs to stand out. but she can take a pause to look at the what he’s more concerned with, holding out her own hand and the crimson stone that catches every ray of studio lighting. “this old thing?” as though it hadn’t been customized with the level of detail that was put into everything important and precious in their lives. a one of a kind, brushed off. “you’ll never guess who found it for me.”

Tomas was tempted to prod further, capitalising on the good mood Claudia seemed to be in, but he knew better than to poke her into a bad mood lest he faced the wrath from both her and Julian on the day he wanted nothing but calmness. "Just fine, alright then," he returned the same light jest with a teasing smile, "if the chef says cake for breakfast, would you listen, though?" Tomas chuckled as he carefully lifted the lid the reveal a quick peak at the petite cakes, 4 inside all different flavours, his own excitement refraining him from keeping it hidden any longer. He just felt that like this, it was much easier to give others and he got to have a lot more fun with different decorations and flavours, and cater to each person much better. As in no strawberries in this box.

"Found it? Hmm don't tell me it's Jose the fire guy," he played along even those his gaze said otherwise knowing full well who it really was. "I'm sure he did something totally romantic," he voice slightly more daring than he would've spoken if Julian had been with them. "Congratulations." Tomas soften his joking tone to be sincere with this one thing at least, letting a hum of silence lull between them before he brightened up again, "well, double celebrations for the cakes then."

[tomas-visser]

marcelo.

The local bakery was not on Marc’s routine stops. His go-to was the Starbucks down the street, but if the sign on the drive-thru speaker was any indicator, it seemed that the only team decision that ever had been made there was to quit all at once. The Visser bakery just happened to be the closest replacement, complete with the barista checking on him, words buzzing beyond the airpods in his ears before he signaled that they were indeed working with a smile and a finger circling around their existence. Unusually persistent, though, he made a more pressing look over, then took a double. “We’ll sync up A.S.A.P., Tamara. Shoot me an e-mail.” The conversation was traded out, ending one to begin another. “Tomas Visser, hello, hello. Aren’t you a busy-bee!” His tone ended in a breathing laugh, fist held out to bump. “La La Land to La La Latte. Time to look for a new agent! Isn’t that right?”

If Tomas had ever known when to shut his mouth, which should really be all the time, it would've especially been now, the red flush rushing to his cheeks and ears from the mistake thinking the customer was actually speaking to him. Of course it would've been on the phone, wireless earbuds these days are harder and harder to spot to be quite honest. Tomas gestured an apologetic bow, mouthing a silent sorry before simply keeping his gaze down to stay in his own lane, refilling the freshly baked bread as the man continued his conversation with his invisible counterpart on the line. Maybe he should just go hide in the kitchen-- 

Tomas froze having heard his name announced so loudly, "I-.." he wasn't exactly sure what to say, gaze speaking a thousand questions at once including the panic of not knowing who this man is. And more importantly, should he know who this man is. He knew he was in La La Land, but then again anyone could've known right since they made the announcements early on. The press conferences with Jade was like nails on chalkboard. "New agent? Do I.. need one?" The words came out as more of a mutter in confusion, repeating his words to process them himself. "I'm really sorry, I'm not sure.. if I ever had the pleasure Mr.."

[tomas-visser]

| open

"No, there has be to a mistake-- I'm pretty sure the delivery was made here already this morning, I- I got the notification.." Panic rose within Tomas as he plead the receptionist who had zero clue about what was happening having entered started her shift at Prometheus. Tomas dropped his head as his brown locks flopped forward in dismay, with a soft dejected sigh. "Sorry, have you seen a medium sized crate arrive-- about this size and-- and coming from France- should have some fragile label on it.." Tomas felt a presence came to his side as he immediate ask the next closest person he could find.

[tomas-visser]

marcelo.

“It’s not constructive criticism…  From a more experienced perspective, we say it’s a paradigm shift. But, as you can tell, a mentor’s job is never as easy as it looks.”

"...uh.. --sir, this is a bakery.." Tomas looked up at the man in front of him, hand holding up a large tray of pastries fresh out of the oven to be out on display. He wasn't sure who it was, definitely not one of their usual customers. Most people ask about sugar and milk, or if they have gluten free options, not.. about paradigm shifts. "Is there.. something wrong with your order? Would you like a change?"

[tomas-visser]

charles.

Tomas was let in, having even Zeus back-up to let him have the room to come in before the door closed. There wasn’t much of an appetite that went along with the offering, but the appreciation was still there. Nothing had changed, not in the public eye. He could walk outside of his building, onto the street, and the paps wouldn’t know one difference from any other day. It was down to the smallest circle that only knew the truth, and Tomas had wound up a step in while even his own parents were so far outside of the orbit they weren’t even considered on par to journalists.

“You’re not much for comfort,” he joked half-heartedly, a breath released instead of a laugh, lips vaguely curved when they could be smiling. He knew he hadn’t gotten much sleep, though, could have gone with more food, more company. Charles gestured to the couch for his friend to have a seat before he joined in, watching how the spread was laid out. There was a bite to his cheek, wondering for a brief moment before collecting his thoughts. “I wouldn’t know what to say exactly, to be honest,” he confessed as he settled onto the edge of the leather cushion, hands clasping. “He’s still your friend, too.”

"Hey, I won't lie to you, because I'm your friend and I care about you," the same soft chuckle was returned, though underlying the heavy weight understood from the situation in front of them. Though.. Tomas still doesn't exactly know what the situation was. Perhaps it was Tomas just being usually perceptive and sensitive to the shift in his friend, but it was definitely noticeable to him. Despite having been here more than a few times, Tomas still found himself politely standing in place, shoulders straightened, as if waiting to be given permission. And the moment he was signalled, he continued his movements to cautiously sit down, knowing he might be walking on eggshells blindfolded here.

"Yeah, I know.." Tomas might be put in an awkward position between the two of them, and it would be hard, if his other friend actually would reply. "But.. he hasn't been talking to me either, nor answered my texts- so.." he trialed off with a limp shrug, Tomas wasn't one to be pushy, if someone didn't want to reply, Tomas will just respect that. Didn't need to continue to be annoying on top of them having a bad day. He was searching for the right words to continue, eyes darting around as if the air around them held the answers. "Did you.. was it.. mutual at least?" He never said he was good at this whole comforting thing.

[tomas-visser]

cal.

“Oh, all a bit of the usual, innit? Always in the thick of it, I am. Nothing but trouble,” he joked, grinning with boyish pride, as if he was the child who couldn’t help but give unintended grief to mother Siobhan. He lived up to it in mild cases, proving it with Tomas, attempting to share what could only be spoiled towards disaster. As it so often went, though, there was only one of them that understood the potential of extended delays and missed deadlines, and it surely wasn’t Cal. “Melly?” The A.D. was glanced at while he made himself at home on the edge of one of the set props–an empty supply crate for the soldiers, brief wonder if they had gotten a pack of smokes while he took a drag of the one lit between his fingers. “Mm!” Sudden thought made the smoke stream before he withdrew it, waving it slightly with another smile. “Could use a livener, then! Will save her some. Should buck right up after a belt or two of this, she should,” he assured, poking open the side of the crate to show off the hidden vodka bottle the tumbler must have been sourced from.

He had heard bits and pieces of Boy Venus. Who hadn’t? Nasty sort of business what with Jessie gone and whatnot, but doesn’t make for good conversation. “Couldn’t tell the difference! Could’ve sworn by it you had all packed up and left for it,” he went on with a shake of his head, dusting the ash off to the side. “Have you been? Beautiful sort of scenery. Can have yourself a glass of shiraz whilst looking over the piazza, you can. Not a bad time to have, not at all.”

"I don't know how you survive with Siobhan in the thick of it with you," Tomas wasn't sure if it was admiration or fear that he felt to his director at the way he handles things. He gave Melly an apologetic smile, but perhaps an A.D. that has worked with him before already knew his ways and already planned ahead of these extra cushion time. Tomas peeked into the crate as Cal cracked a small opening and he looked back to Cal with a small frown, "isn’t that dangerous?" Probably a good thing this wasn't the Boy Venus set with how much fire play they had going on in that show. Time to make a mental note of that, which prop to avoid, but then again, how many more props are hidden with alcohol?

"Ha.. I wish," it would've been an interesting experience should they have actually gone out of the country. A light shook of the head was in response to the question asked, eyes revealing a solemn, nostalgic smile, "no- not really, I'm more Northern European so.. I never really got to travel down too far." France was as South as he had gone. "Have you? I know Roman cuisine is really unique."

[tomas-visser]

jade.

“You should be sorry. You couldn’t have extended your break one more season? Did you finally realize that’s what gets you cancelled? Aw.” As if she’d ever be sad the day Tomas Visser showed up on television to get shoved into his own oven. He wasn’t really sorry, anyways. Why should she? It was bad enough that the costume department insisted on this ugly shoes to wear. Functionality over fashion. Well, what was the point of having them employed if they couldn’t do both, then? And to top it off, she even had the muffin man next to her mirroring her own opinions about them, making her slowly turn back to him.

“Need a muzzle?”

"As if they'd let me," it was a miracle Tomas even dared overstep toes for the break, but using Boy Venus as an excuse was easy enough and gave a good look for Prometheus, letting his manager be able to negotiate. Of course they had the continuous grave warning they drilled into his soul, if you lose your spot and get cancelled, that's on you. That was a risk he was willing to take. But even then, Prometheus didn't seem to be done with him yet. Tomas forced a wry smile at her snapback, "no thanks, I'd rather not use yours." It was soft but loud enough for her to hear sitting beside him. "Just checking is all," he sighed with a stretch of his arms, taking in the overview of LA’s softening glow into the night below them. They already warmed up earlier before they changed into these costumes, watching the production world buzz around them to get this one take wonder ready again. Tomas lightly tapped his shoes onto the ground, the crisp taps of metal on floor, "just- be careful if it's too tight.." before deciding to stand up, testing out the few simple steps in their routine, gaze diligently scrunched at the ground.