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“...and that grid marks out allocation of set space,” Joe Hills says, gesturing towards the squares lining the floor in front of the Only at Night stage. “If you need a spot for something temporary, you just let me know how much space you need, and we can figure out where to put it."
“I see, I see,” Joel hums, nodding and looking over the spacious studio. “I’m impressed you’ve pulled together something this fast that you can start offering it to other people. I’m barely getting my storage together for myself, since it’s all above ground. Obviously.”
Joe gives a bow over his arm. “Why thank you, Joel–figured I’d learn from the problems with last season’s project-for-other-people and actually give you all time to use it this time.”
“So if I wanted to do something that was out of step with my very normal base, something weird or not fine and normal-”
“This could be the venue, yes! If you’ve got an idea, or even just think you might have one in the future, we can set you up with an office upstairs.” Joe waves towards the balconies and the red-curtained windows behind. “I’ve already got a few of them set up, if you enjoy intentionally bad carpeting! Or you can, you know, decorate it normally.”
Joel narrows his eyes for a moment, letting it stretch on before coughing. “And what if it was a bit…violent? Hypothetically.”
“Oh, that’d be fine!” Joe nods enthusiastically. “Slapstick comedy has a long history of success and being recreated in seemingly distinct cultures; people like seeing other people hurt and get hurt. I believe the German word for it is schadenfreude, which is–”
“I believe you,” Joel interjects, seeing the wind-up to a discussion that’s both interesting and not what he’s looking for right now. “So I could, say, kill a horse? Live, for other people to see? Complete hypothetical, of course, don’t know where that came from, just a random thought, just seeing what the limits are, not thinking of doing it. Obviously.”
Joe pauses, thinking it over. “Hm. Well, while the studio is rated for graphic depictions of violence, I do believe there would be a hefty amount of paperwork involved in arranging any equestrian execution as you’re describing. The rules around death on the airwaves run a little differently when respawn gets involved, and unless your hypothetical horse’s hooves can hold a Totem of Undying, it may cause a bit more trouble than I’m currently set to handle.” He turns away, shifting their walking path towards one of the prop closets.
Shoulders sagging, Joel sighs. “Right, that’s, about what I thought you’d say. It’s a good thing this was just a hy-”
“HOWEVER!” Joe’s voice rings out from the closet, over the sound of various items shifting. “You could–where is it? I know I put it in–ahah!”
He steps back out, holding what would be a startlingly realistic horse head, if not for the obvious hollow hole at its base displaying the paper-mache insides. Topping a pile on the floor is the beginnings of the body of a horse costume.
Joe lifts the head triumphantly. “Now, you could kill me while I’m wearing this, and that’s totally fine. So you could do a skit about killing a horse, no problem!” He lowers it slightly, grinning. “In this completely hypothetical scenario you’re proposing, of course.”
A beat.
Two.
Joel squints at the head. “Did you know I was going to ask that?”
“Well, no,” Joe admits, shrugging. “It wasn’t an impossibility, so there was a probability, but no such thing as a guarantee.”
“Then why do you have a horse costume just…on hand? With a plan to be killed in it?”
A wide grin, and Joe’s glasses catch the stage lights above in a sharp glint. “Show business, Mr. Beans. Gotta be prepared for anything.”