[11. Messy]
"Aaand CUT! That was great. Okay, I think we're good, but before we call it I'm just gonna have a look through the rushes someplace... less covered in cake and Jello," Alon says, hoisting his laptop under his arm and stepping carefully over an upturned gateaux.
Mitch laughs as he dislodges a blob of frosting from his fingertips with a flick of the wrist, "Sure. Help yourself to the kitchen; I think that pretty much escaped unscathed."
Alon nods, beckoning the rest of his team from the living room as Scott steps towards Mitch. "The same cannot be said of you, honey. You have Jello in your hair," he says, brushing his fingers lightly through Mitch's bangs before looking down, "and in your navel. Nice."
Mitch snorts, "You're not exactly pristine yourself, noodle boy," he says, pinching a long strand of pasta from Scott's shoulder and dropping it onto the tarp below their feet. He shakes his head. "The things you talk me into, honestly."
"Hey! I'm a creative genius, remember? And we're still on budget." he says proudly.
Mitch adjusts the seam of his underpants with a small thwack. "Yeah, well, I still think the budget could have stretched to actual clothes."
"Art is sacrifice, Mitch," Scott teases with a grin, almost dodging the slap it earns him.
----
