He's a museum curator with a fetish for perfection. No one's ever gotten close to him; how could they? They're never as perfect as the portraits, the sculptures, the art that never changes. Then one day, an intern is hired on- a young, messy, disorganized intern, whose hair and desk is in a constant state of disarray. The curator is going half-mad with this walking embodiment of chaos; what happens when their time together is done? Will he be relieved that the intern is completely out of his sight?