Much Like Stardust

I. Night One: Night Guards With Flashlights

McPhee shakes his head, "Don't make me regret this."

The two exit, walking back into the entrance. Vincent holds his hands up in mock surrender, "No problemo," he turns around and struts out of the museum, not a care in the world.

Vincent strolls through the dark Museum toward the security room. He only knew where it was because he had a private tour when he first met his step-mother's brother a few months ago. He still wonders why his father remarried so quickly after his divorce, and even faster with a new woman, but that was something to think about on his own time.

"Ah," Vincent looks up to see three old men and a younger (but still older than him) man, "I see you've made it. Vincent, right?" Vincent purses his lips and nods. "Larry, Vincent, meet me up on the second floor. I'll slip into my orthopedics and give you a little tour. Arthritic knee," he turns around, but then looks back at the two, "Not fun getting old, my friends," He waves his hand, "Go on."

The night guard and Vincent walk to the stairs, awkwardly avoiding talking for some reason or another. Vincent bounces on his heels in an uncomfortable motion, hoping to sooth whatever anxious nerves running through his body. As much as he wants to step away from the man, he thinks it would be rude to do so.

The man clears his throat, "I didn't know that they would have another night guard," Vincent purses his lips with awkwardness. "I thought that they could only have one due to downsizing."
Vincent shrugs, "I'm not getting paid," of course it was a rather confusing statement, so he emphasizes, "I know Doctor McPhee." It isn't much of an explanation, but it would suffice.

The next day, the old man who slipped into his orthopedics-- Cecil, as Vincent would come to know-- leaves with his other friends, Gus and Reginald. Vincent and the unacquainted man are left in the dark locked museum.

"So," the man walks around to the information desk, "What's your name, kid?"

Vincent rolls his eyes, "Vincent, and you, old man?"

The man nods with a small lift of his lips, "Larry."

"Cool."

"Cool," Larry draws a repeat out.

"I'm going to pick up some garbage," Vincent walks away from the man.

He doesn't know if there was a cleaning crew, but he takes it as his chance to leave the odd man. He doesn't get far when Larry starts talking into the PA system. Vincent sighs, his headphones lying unused around his neck are pulled up. His MP3 turns on and starts playing "Funkytown" by Lipps Inc.

Vincent had found a plastic bag-- by god, he hoped it was clean of anything disgusting-- and uses it to hold any scraps of garbage he finds in the museum. It had been getting pretty full pretty quickly, so Vincent made his way to a bathroom to empty it.

Flipping the bag over and gently shaking it into the garbage can, Vincent glances outside. The sun was about to set. Its hues are warming in the cold, dead museum. He had a few more stops, then he would be done with picking up garbage. He would finally wash his hands from the germs and sickly things he had picked up.

The Pharaoh Exhibit is last. Vincent rather liked the architecture, it certainly reminded him of an actual tomb that a Pharaoh would be in. Not that he's seen one, he could only assume from the movies he's watched that certainly are semi-based in realism.

Vincent sways to the music, he's glad that there is something to distract him from this desolate, soundless building.

"Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight," Vincent sings quietly to himself.