Robert told the truth. Though the elevator creaked and whirred up to the third floor as though it was about to suffer a permanent (and for Ilkin, terminal) breakdown, it brought the mage to where he needed to go. The third floor seemed to be reserved for administrative and storage, with small offices and various rooms holding the residue of the industrial age that were deemed insufficiently photogenic to have a place in the main museum. Ilkin passed a collection of filaments (replica) from Edison's early lightbulbs, a trio of sewing machines, and a great deal of cables before reaching the curator's office.
The mage heard Gary Fletcher before he saw him, as the door was open and Fletcher was talking, quite loudly, on the phone. The director, producer, and occasional scriptwriter of the Day of the Devourer film was one of those people of whom it is said that they had no indoor voice, but even then one could tell that Fletcher was talking louder than he had to.
"---blem? Everything on filming is going stellar, we're going to be done by Christmas, trust me here." There was a pause, as Gary listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "Look, would I lie to you? Seriously, have a little faith." Another pause, before Fletcher continued in a slightly higher-pitched voice. "What? Now, Oleg, come on man, there's no need to come, we've got things un-- tomorrow? Oleg, Oleg, Oleg, there is absolutely no need for you to drag yourself over here. I mean, seriously, what do you think you can do here that--" There was another pause, a rather lengthy one this time, before Fletcher said weakly. "No sir. I'm not implying anything. I'll have everything ready for you tomorrow night, Mr. Chernenko."
There was one final pause, and then as the other party hung up, Fletcher slammed the phone hard onto his desk and put his head into his hands. It was in this pose that Ilkin saw him first. Gary was a young man, not more than a few years older than Ilkin himself, really. Lean and athletic, with disheveled brown hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose. He was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. On the whole, he looked less like a director and more like a production assistant of some kind.
"Damn damn damn damn..." Gary was muttering to himself. He didn't seem to notice llkin at first.