Threading Scene Example PB

Me: Roger flipped through the binder on his desk, looking at picture after picture of what were supposedly average American diners, his Blackberry sandwiched in between his ear and his shoulder. Taking a call from a producer wasn't exactly his favorite thing, especially when he was supposed to be done with the job already. "No, I don't care where you wanna shoot." He said, voice clipped and hurried. "All I'm saying is that you're not going to find hardly anything but art deco bullshit in Miami. If you want colonial you go Williamsberg, Boston, Philly. Understand? If you're filming in South Florida and want it you'll have to CGI or put up backdrops, hell I don't know." He sighed and pushed the binder in front of him away. "I understand your Director wants authentic. Tell him Boston is nice and sunny in the summer, he can shoot exteriors there."

Just then Roger's assistant came through the door of his office, holding the morning's Starbucks order and a few trade papers. He motioned her closer so he could grab his latte and rolled his eyes, indicating that he was fed up with dealing the the demanding producer on the phone. He took a sip and tried to let the caffeine take effect. He settled back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk. "Florida? In January?" He glanced out the window of his office, the dreary Vancouver sky making him chilly just thinking about the windchill outside. He smiled over at his assistant. "I don't know...I'll have to check if we're free to fly to Miami tomorrow to do a scout for you." He covered the phone with one hand and looked up at her.

"Free trip to South Beach. Are you in?" He asked with a mischievous grin.

"S'open!" She called out, mumbling around a mouthful of toothpaste. She leaned down to spit into the sink and then stood back up. "I'm in here." She said, looking up at Jon in the mirror. "Whassup?" She shoved the toothbrush back in her mouth and kept on brushing.

Them: Poppy Burke bustled into her boss’s office at the usual time, her arms laden with the usual parcels – a folder of papers that needed to be reviewed or otherwise tended to from the day before and of course both of their coffees without which life would not be able to go on. Seeing that Roger was on the phone Poppy just gave him a silent little smile as she sat across the desk from him, busily preoccupied with skimming through the file, making a small pile of papers that she nudged over to Roger while he spoke. It was business as usual with them, and every morning began in the same way, not that she’d ever think to complain. All things considered a person her age and fresh out of college should’ve been working at a dull job for half the salary, and Poppy found her job infectiously interesting.

When he looked up she caught it out of the corner of her eye and looked over at him with her eyebrows raised curiously, a grin spreading across her face at the question before she flashed him a quick thumbs up, unwilling to disturb his phone call. She was young but at the very least she was professional. Nursing her vente coffee Poppy quickly averted her gaze back to the paperwork, thumbing through a few faxes while she idly listened to her boss chattering away on his Blackberry.

Me: At Poppy's thumbs up, he grinned and said into the phone "We're on a tight schedule but we can squeeze it in. Send our tickets over with a messenger today." He paused a moment as he listened. "You've got nothing to worry about." He hung up, tossing his phone next to the paperwork and giving a celebratory fist pump into the air. "Okay, Miami here we come."

He picked up his pen and began to flip through the papers she'd set in front of him. He signed the ones she'd marked for him with just a glance. He trusted Poppy and if she'd deemed something ready to sign, he signed it. Simple as that. He hadn't been very content with assistants in the past. Most of them had aspirations to climb that ladder as quickly as possible so they only used the job to network and when Roger got fed up with that, he fired them. Poppy was the first one that had lasted more than six months. She was good at her job.

He finished off his Starbucks and tossed the cup into the trash. "Alright so, if we're leaving tomorrow for Florida, where does that put us on the Brian Singer shoot? We've got everything they need, right?" He started checking his email, clicking through hurriedly. He was always multitasking.

Them: Once he’d acknowledged her approval of their apparent plan of action Poppy was quickly allowing herself to be immersed in the day’s paperwork again. Nursing her coffee she was off in her own little world, although quickly brought back down to earth at his questions. Her head lifted a moment and her eyes drifted off to the side as she searched the little filing cabinet inside her mind for the answers to his questions. “Yes, Singer wants to shoot at night, and his people are still screening models. We’re supposed to find something with glowy light he said, something “fireside and starlight” as he put it. But that can wait until he’s got his models.” And yes, of course she had dressed the words fireside and starlight with those little air quotes when she’d spoken them.

Looking down at the paperwork still spread out before her, she finished off her coffee and tossed the empty cup before chewing distractedly on her bottom lip while she ruminated on what all had to be done. “What’re we looking for in Miami? I’ll start researching spots for what we need when I’m done with the calls I have to make.”

Me: He nodded. "Glowy, glowy starlight, firelight." He sighed. "They all want the same. Why doesn't anyone ever want full sun in a empty parking lot?" He ran fingers through his hair. "Well, whatever the case, it can wait until we get back from Florida." He stood up and stretched and walked over toward the window. "Firelight? Hmm, I'm thinking that bed and breakfast with the patio set up? Remember that one? It's got a fire pit and it's outside. That should be good." He turned back to look at her. "Jot that down, we'll check it out when we get back."

"In Miami we need to find something colonial. It'll be hard but I think we can do it." He nodded. "We'll call Mischa down there. She's got good connections." He sat on the edge of the desk. "Make a reservation at El Guapo's for lunch today, okay?" He smiled. "We'll have a farewell lunch to snowy Vancouver."