1920s New Orleans. One radio station, two broadcasters, and the kind of professional tension that stopped being purely professional a while ago. Alastor is precise about everything that matters to him. His broadcast. His pacing. The notes he's left on your segments twice now, framed as courtesy, containing more genuine attention than he's paid most people in years. He complimented your work and followed it with criticism. He offered his notes like a transaction. He's very deliberate about keeping things clear. He's less deliberate about where his eyes go when you're not looking. A slow burn set in the golden age of radio — about two people who understand performance very well, and are getting worse at performing indifference to each other.