He waits for the kids to be settled in, the only light coming from a few glowsticks they added to the inside, hanging from the topmost poles. They all look at him as they finish, and he puts a hand to his mouth as he checks around them.
The glowsticks, due to their weak and purplish light, don't show shadows too well. As long as he adjusts, and they can cover things, it should be fine.
Thinking so, he gestures for Thrash, who is on the far right (if one is positioned at the tent's entrance looking inward), to move over and join the other two. He does, carefully pulling himself over all the mattresses and sleeping bags to sit crosslegged between the other two. Sparky and Snow make room, so that all three are sitting on Snow's sleeping things, besides the pillow.
He doesn't know how or why they chose the order they did, besides that Sparky is on the far left. As the only woman, it makes sense. However, is the rest just random?
He should focus. Yeah, focusing sounds nice.
"So, you three know we're going out and about, right? To the museum and such?"
After he speaks, he signs down by his stomach, being careful to hide it as normal gesturing and posture adjustment.
I set traps. Don't touch without wiping hands. Use UV as light. Check fortouch.
They all nod, and start chatting immediately.
"I wonder what sort of museum. I heard there's some that are just for specific points in time, or specific places."
"Oh, or themes! I've been to an aviation one, it was so cool."
"Yeah, but you like planes, of course mom took you. I got to see the one where they let you sample old recipes."
"Says the guy who's gonna be a professional chef!"
He lets them chatter. They're good, even when they slip up. A skill to learn fast, to quick-correct and not appear like it. He interjects a few times to remind them there are others, and they might hear the raised voices, but it's the tone of a parent reminding children to use their indoor voices.
He thinks, in the quiet he enters, listening to them chat and wonder and get excited or playfully upset at each other, that he got lucky with these interns. Well, perhaps not lucky.
The people at VV know him well. Max and Pearl and Len know him well. He's been at the company longer than most everyone they have. It doesn't take much to know he doesn't like the idea of having to coddle someone.
It makes sense, he supposes, that they chose interns who wouldn't want to be coddled or eased in. They want a challenge, want to learn. They asked to go faster, do more, wanted to be thrown in the deep end sooner. He couldn't have picked better interns if he tried.
Not that he would.
But these kids...
He thinks this must be what the masters used to feel about their apprentices. Not anything large or the urge to be gentle, but the urge to see just how far someone can go. Seeing that potential, wanting to stretch it, pushing until it has reached the limit and then some. And if anything else tries to push or hurt or break the apprentices, the masters made it clear what would happen.
Tussle thinks he's done so, too. Too bad the modern times don't have the master-apprentice bond as commonplace anymore.
"Alright, sleepy time. Bodies in bags, eyes shut, pretend you're taking the forever nap."
"Okay!"
"Alright, Boss."
"You better sleep, too."
He waves off the last one, but does lay down on his bed. He'll sleep, not that he needs it. Well, he needs a little per day, or he gets a bit grouchy, but who's keeping track?
Definitely not him, though he wouldn't put it past his interns.
"Night-night," he calls one last time, tucking the hanging glowsticks further into the canvas. The light dims because of it, and soon, he falls asleep to three sets of deep, steady breathing.