Before (OLD)

The One Where Norman Questions Sammy's Stability

The next week Norman was mostly alone. Joey had moved Sammy to the infirmary, handing him more songwriting to do. Norman visited him occasionally when he got the chance, but other than that, it was oddly... quiet. He wondered if that was a bad sign or not. Work went on as normal, boring as always. The new animation turned out splendid despite the fact that there was less music than normal (courtesy of the band's laziness). The animation department was working hard despite some "mishaps" due to ink spills

And these were no normal spills.

A jar of ink on your new drawing or storyboard was bad enough, but an entire pipe system bursting on you and the entirety of your work was just plain ridiculous. Because of Joey's new "Ink Machine", things were either going great or terribly depending on how the machine thought about how you should suffer during the day.

The machine itself had been installed over the weekend with no warning whatsoever. Work schedules had changed drastically for others, while the rest had somewhat of the same hours they normally had. Norman was one of those lucky few. Sammy, on the other hand, had been conversing with Joey every moment he got when he wasn't composing music. Norman tried listening in on a conversation, but is was like the two were speaking in code.

In the small amount of time Norman had spent at this studio overall, he didn't trust Joey one bit. In fact, he went behind Sammy's back to peek at that apparent book on satanism. It was a book on satanism in a way. While one half of The Illusion of Living was just a manual on how to make a decent animation, the other half was... questionable. Well, for one thing, he began hearing eerie whispering almost immediately after he went past that halfway point. So, he chucked back into the trash where it belonged.

Now that he thought about it, Sammy had been acting strange since the incident with the book. It was almost like something had attached itself to him. Norman wasn't really into the paranormal, but he knew enough about it to figure out when an evil entity was at play. Especially around his own boyfriend.

Norman's thoughts were cut short when he glanced at the time. It was nearly ten at night. So he packed up his stuff as quickly as possible, almost accidentally knocking a projector off the railing of the booth and down to the floor of the recording room. Sammy must have been waiting for over an hour now. Some lover he was.

He nearly leaped down the stairs, running into Jack on his way to the infirmary.

"Whoah! Where are you going in such a hurry?" he inquired, regaining his balance.

Norman only grunted, muttering a quick apology before continuing on his way. But Jack trailed after him anyways. "You can be really annoying sometimes," the projectionist growled.

"I know. Might as well let my trait shine!" Jack flashed a grin, making Norman roll his eyes.

Norman almost walked straight on to Sammy's office, then skidded to a halt when he realized he passed where he was supposed to be. He cursed a couple times, shoving past Jack again to round the corner to trudge down more stairs.

When Sammy was in view, Norman sighed in relief. The composer was just laid back in his cot, reading through some papers and whistling a happy tune.

"Sam!"

Sammy looked up, smiling. "Hey, sweetie," he greeted, putting the papers down. He made sure the front was laid down and away from view before landing his gaze back on Norman. Then his smile falter into a bored frown when he saw Jack. "I presume he came against your will?"

"You read my mind."

"Well, allow me to help." Sammy gave Jack a glare so filled with danger and hatred that the lyricist drew back in surprise.