A large building, filled with filming props and cameras.  There are crewmembers walking around, some chatting on the sidelines, and stagehands coming to and from with props.

Clyde wanders around backstage holding his script. He thinks to himself that they [i]must be joking if his character for this film will take a dive[\i]. He’s not some common heel actor and he doesn’t want this to mar his reputation as an up and coming lead.

He gets confused in this building and is opening every unlocked door trying to find the writers room.

Richard had been in Hollywood for a total of three days, but this was his first day at the studio. He was still adjusting to the time difference and so far had decided that the coffee here was better than over in the U.K. but he still preferred Glenmorangie to Jack Daniels.

Now he had decided to take a look at the set before seeing the producer. Richard was here on an advisory capacity but the filming process itself still interested him greatly and if he met a pretty young starlett or two along the way then that would be a bonus.

He noticed a man wandering aimlessly with a script in hand and offered a passing "Good Morning" to him as the man passed.

Ray walks briskly along the sidewalk, swinging his make-up kit and singing softly to himself.

"Charleston, Charleston Made in Carolina. Some dance, some prance , I'll say better than finer."

He smiles at the bustling people he doesn't know, waves at the ones he does, and calls "Good morn-ing!" to those he knows well. He is content, if not quite happy. This film promises a couple of weeks of steady pay and boy! can his wallet use some folding green. Being the on-set makeup man, relegated to touch-ups to faces and hair as the work disarranged things is not his dream, but it is another rung up the ladder, a chance to meet people who count, not just extras, bless their little hearts.

He turns into the gate and dances up to Walter, the gate guard, singing full voice: "Sometime You'll dance it. One time That dance called The Charleston. Made in South Carolin-a! Yeah!" He breaks into a couple of steps and throws his hands wide for a big finish, almost knocking a couple of hurrying estras from the curb with his kit.

"Ooops! Sorry, girls. Good morning, Walter, Stage 4."

Once Walter has checked him in, he walks down the studio street, passing a passel of cowboys and Indians and a bevy of saloon girls with waves and greetings for all his fellow toilers in the Hollywood vineyards. He reaches the heavy door to Stage 4 and goes in.

Once his eyes adjust to the dimness within, he finds his way to the room labeled 'MAKE-UP and WARDROBE'. He stows his kit, saying good morning to the slightly intimidating wardrobe mistress and her already-harried assistant.

Out in the hallway, he follows the sound of hub-bub to the set and finds --Wonder of Wonders!-- coffee and pastries. He fills a mug and selects a kruller. Then he watches as the set is readied for today's shooting. Finishing the kruller, he ambles over to the Assistant Director and introduces himself, nodding at a man in a suit that he doesn't know -- not an actor, no makeup and the suit isn't a costume, the fabric's too good--and that tie!

"Hiya, Phil," he says to the A.D., "Reporting for duty."

Sergeant Fred Barnes is just doing his usual beat, patrolling the streets, walking along the sidewalks near some of the smaller film studios. Whistling happily as he walks in the bright sun shine, he returns a friendly nod towards a man singing some song about Charleston.

All in all, it's promising to be a peaceful, sunny day on his route.

Mark had been contacted by the film studio to do some advising about some mystery and detective films they had in process. For this film he was told he would be working along with some British fellow they had brought in, since the film would take place in both the US and the UK. For most of the day he had been walking around the studio, getting a feel for it and looking for things like exits and hiding places. He spots a gentleman with a script and another fellow shaking hands. He hears the man without a script speak with a British accent and walks over to introduce himself when they are done speaking.

The exchange had been brief, so Richard had let the guy carry on. Obviously another hopefull wanting to hit the big time. It surprised him how many of them there were here. As the new guy approached he turned to him with a smile. "Hello", he said with a Welsh accent, offering the man his hand. "Exciting isn't it? Being on a movie set. I'm Richard."

Mark will extend his hand, giving a handshake that is neither too hard not too soft. He then reaches in a pocket and takes out a card case and produces a card he passes to Richard.

You would be Mr. Blackwood then. I am Mark Hawke. I believe we are to work together on this film as detective consultants. Pleasure to meet you Sir.