"Hey you, Ash. Lend me a hand, will ya?" Charley shouted from across the room. Ashland looked at him questioningly. "I need some help with this here box of props. I swear. Some of these ladies don't know how to clean up after themselves." He shook his head. Ashland moved to help him place the tattered costumes and various other parts into the chest. "It's disgusting. We're running low on money and they think they can treat these like shit. They should be treating it like fucking gold because they ain't gonna be seein' new stuff for a loooooooong time."

"Give 'em a break, Char. They're drunk most of the time." Ashland said only half meaning it.

"All the more reason." He muttered almost too quiet to hear. Ashland rolled her eyes. She and Charley had been friends since childhood. It was because of him she landed this job. Even so, she knew he was a bit stiff sometimes. 

"Relax, Charley. We'll be fine. I swear." She wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"Easy for you to say. You're not handling the money around here."

"Well nor are you, so quit fussing." She shoved him and stood up. "Even so, it isn't our problem. Let the higher ups deal with it." She walked away, waving over her shoulder at Charley. "See ya tomorrow, Pal."