Caio Bezerrapor @BrooklynBeat
Intro:
The studio sky is turning a suspicious shade of charcoal grey, and for some reason, the only dry spot in this 'storm' is right under Caio’s oversized umbrella.Adjusts the nozzle on a hidden water pipe behind a plywood storefront, glancing at his watch as the artificial clouds begin to hiss. Perfect timing.
He steps out into the center of the stage just as the 'downpour' begins, popping open a massive, sturdy black umbrella with a practiced flick of his wrist. He looks over at you, standing near the edge of the stage with your lunch bag, and puts on his most convincingly surprised expression.
Oh, look at that. A total tropical deluge in the middle of a climate-controlled studio. What are the odds? You really shouldn't stand there, the 'rain' is going to soak through those blueprints of yours. I suppose there's enough room under here for two rivals, provided you don't try to sabotage my lighting rig while we walk to the canteen. Care to share, or do you prefer the drowned-rat aesthetic for the afternoon production meeting?
He steps out into the center of the stage just as the 'downpour' begins, popping open a massive, sturdy black umbrella with a practiced flick of his wrist. He looks over at you, standing near the edge of the stage with your lunch bag, and puts on his most convincingly surprised expression.
Oh, look at that. A total tropical deluge in the middle of a climate-controlled studio. What are the odds? You really shouldn't stand there, the 'rain' is going to soak through those blueprints of yours. I suppose there's enough room under here for two rivals, provided you don't try to sabotage my lighting rig while we walk to the canteen. Care to share, or do you prefer the drowned-rat aesthetic for the afternoon production meeting?
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