Chapter Text
"Working" at the Anchorage almost felt like a normal office job, sometimes. Artificial lights induced headaches, incompetent coworkers caused headaches and nicotine withdrawal headaches all feel familiar and reminded Case of open office spaces and collegial drinking parties. Of course, these many headaches had a solution: the breakroom. Tucked away, this remodelled supply closet had everything one could need: a wall clock, a cabinet, a fridge, a coffee machine and the pièce de résistance: the smoking cabin and its glorious filtered air. Unsurprisingly, this somewhat primitive arrangement was not favored by most of Case's coworkers, who much preferred the cafeteria, with its modern vending machines, large amount of seating and Bistro's food. That was exactly why Case prefers this breakroom. The Anchorage may seem large but, really, it got quite cramped. As the number of climbers increased, so did Case's trips to the breakroom. A rare place of quiet, where the lull of the air filter and the pump of the aging drip coffee machine is all the noise you heard. It was truly ideal. Even the LED light unchanged probably since time immemorial, had gotten to a comfortable, dim level of light, much more comfortable for Case's light-sensitive eyes than the other bright white, almost blue lights set in the rest of the Anchorage. For Case, this place was nothing less than a small piece of heaven.
This breakroom really didn't see much use. He had seldom seen a single person even near its door. It wasn't like his coworkers didn't smoke. Once or twice, he had seen Doctor Remedy entering and taking a quick chainsmoke. He assumed he must consume a pack at a time to optimize his smoking with his busy schedule, or to blow off steam in a strange, self-destructive way. It was truly a sight to behold. He didn't even say a single word to Case as he did this. It made Case somewhat relativize his own habit. Similarly, he had seen Delta crouch near an air vent and smoke faster than anyone he had ever seen. And he had smelt the strange concoctions of Flippy's vape in the bathrooms. This place was chock-full of nicotine addicts, but none dared to adventure to the breakroom. It was like an oasis in the desert only Case was privy to. That was, atleast, what Case thought.
Case knew his coworkers well. Too well, infact. Not to say he was sociable: quite the opposite really, but he was observant, and had excellent memory. He noticed and made a mental note of their habits, their schedules, their relationships whether he wanted to or not. Most were easy to read, some were more reserved but nonetheless let things slip, and some were enigmas. There was one enigma that lingered in the back of his mind, and who he couldn't look at too long without feeling his head hurt. Like staring straight at the sun, or an incandescent lightbulb. That enigma was Soleil.
He was the most sociable of them all, the opposite of Case. He was a great leader, with a loud voice and a magnetic presence. He was caring, and understanding, and neverendingly optimistic, not like a child who knew nothing of the world but like a priest or a monk. And like a priest or monk, he was also infinitely helpful and selfless. His encouraging speeches bordered on sermons, with all the religious elements removed: or rather replaced with an infinite hope in people, in general. A faith in humanity, of which he took no part in. After all, he was only a character.
Soleil was simply a role played by a certain actor, and the whole world was his stage. One could notice it in the way he led others like a stage director, assigning them stock roles and playing along with them, the way he talked with his hands flaying about and his face contorted in overexagerrated emotions, the way his skin glistened like he was under stage lights at all times. He was an actor, a thespian in life. This was what made him an enigma: Case knew all there was to know about this character, his role in the play, his through-line, and nothing about the actor. It itched at him, this curiosity formed from old habits. He wanted to see under the mask of Thalia stuck to Soleil's face, he needed to rip it off and see the human hiding beneath, the fool playing Pedrolino, the emotions hiding off stage, the thoughts on the cutting room floor, the person bowing as the curtain rose. But he wondered if there'd be anything beneath the mask but a gaping hole, or if he would rip off Soleil's face along with it. All metaphorically, of course.
When Case entered the breakroom, he saw the actor for a moment. Behind the glass walls of the smoking cabin, in his little piece of paradise amongst the metal walls of the Anchorage, under the dim light, there sat the man who played Soleil, cigarette inbetween his fingers, during a moment of respite after today's denouement, behind a clear curtain. For once, looking at him didn't hurt. The sun was hidden behind smoke clouds, the lightbulb was turned off. For once, he saw a person. Nevertheless, his hands felt clammy, his head light. He wanted to blame it on the lack of nicotine in his system, but right now he felt like a paparazzi. A fan. He wanted to ask a thousand questions. How do you do it? How long did it take you to get in this role? How did you create it?
When Soleil turned towards Case, they both startled. Case froze and saw Soleil's lips move, as if saying something, or more likely cursing, but couldn't hear behind the soundproofed glass. Soleil tried to quickly crush his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray but struggled to get it to snuff out for a bit. He finally slid open the glass door and stumbled out.
There was a moment of silence, as Case stayed frozen infront of the door. Soleil pulled out a perfume spray bottle and sprayed himself, before taking his cape, left on the cabinet handle, and throwing it over his shoulders as he pushed Case out of the doorway.
"Sorry, I've reaaally gotta hurry!" He apologized as he ran off.
Case wanted to punch himself. He should have said something, anything, but he had just let a rare, inimitable opportunity slip through his fingers. He lamely walked over to the cabinet, and the coffee machine, to make himself a cup of coffee to drink along with his smoke. But there, on the cabinet, he noticed something. Soleil's red sun brooch, left behind, unintentionally forgotten. The one he used to hold his cape over his shoulders.
Maybe, after all, Case could create a new opportunity.