Filming on 'A Murder Of Crowes' might have finished, but that didn't mean that there wasn't still a ton of work to be completed before the film could be considered done. For Vicki's department, this meant finishing up the artwork for the publicity campaign, as well as storing as much of the sets they had constructed as was possible. The department offices were filled with studious quiet, the occasional softly spoken conversation carrying across the entire floor as her people settled down to their serious business.

Just because filming had ended didn't mean Jon had disappeared from the set. His presence had still been required to take care of last minute things, along with a short interview here and there, some promotional shots and other miscellaneous tasks. And there was the business of cleaning out his trailer, which he'd mostly taken up residence in over the last few months, wishing for more privacy than Maple Grove could afford under the watchful eyes of his family. It would be a few days at least before he'd be ready to move out. He had a place in mind. He just had to sign the lease. He was planning on spending the short time allotted between film and play to move his things in and get settled.

While her team worked, Vicki was busy liaising with the other department heads, which had somehow ended with her having something to deliver to certain members of the cast. Most of them, she'd already sent on their way; Aimee had disappeared as soon as filming ended, so gods alone knew when she was going to get her delivery. But Jonathan Granger ....well, everyone on set at 21twelve knew where he was most of the time. With the little package tucked under her arm, Vicki advanced toward the trailers and rapped sharply on his door.

It was quiet behind the door, no sound of music or TV or voices heard speaking. Quiet as a mouse, he was most of the time, far more reserved than his reputation claimed, but that had been before rehab, before the shooting, before everything had changed. It took a minute or so before the door was pulled open and Jon looked out to see who wanted something from him now. He was still lightly-bearded, planning on shaving in a few days for his cousin's wedding, and was dressed casually in a gray sweatshirt and jeans, his hair pushed to the side, stray curls brushing his forehead. He arched a curious brow when he saw Vicki at his door. "To what do I owe this visit, Miss Marshall?"

Blowing a stray hank of bright copper hair out of her eyes, Vicki looked up at the actor incredulously. "Miss Marshall" Since when did I become Miss Marshall again?" she asked with a grin. "I promise, I won't turn into a fangirl if you deign to use my name, Mr Granger."

He smirked at her, always having enjoyed their verbal sparring; or was it mild flirtation' He wasn't quite sure. He pulled the door open a little further, allowing her a peek at his current abode, which was unusually messy for a neatnik like him. He was obviously in the process of packing to move out. "As long as you don't turn into a rabid fangirl, I won't protest too loudly."

"Oh, so I have your permission to come over all fangirl on you, provided I get myself tested for rabies first' Seems fair to me." Chuckling, Vicki leant her hand against the side of the trailer, looking him over thoughtfully. "Bet you're pleased filming's over. You look knackered."

"Well, only if you're planning on biting." He attempted a smirk, but the joke seemed almost too ironic and the smile faded. He stepped back to invite her into the small space, noticing her eyes on him and hoping she wasn't scrutinizing him too closely. He shrugged. "Mixed feelings really. It's like saying good-bye to an old friend."

"You'll be back," she nodded confidently, stepping up and into the trailer. Blue eyes swept the space for a moment out of habit, though she didn't mark many details. This was obviously Jon's most private place right now, so she wasn't going to poke and pry. "Oh, right, yes, reason for disturbing you. Miles made up some slates of the promo outtakes ....here you go." She handed over the little cloth-wrapped package. The slate had been signed on the back by every member of the production team, a little memory of 'Crowes' for the actors.

"You're not disturbing me," Jon pointed out quickly, closing the door behind her. In point of fact, he spent too much time alone and enjoyed the company, but had for reasons he had not shared become even more reclusive than usual over the past few weeks and months. "I could probably use the company. My sister tells me I'm becoming a recluse." He moved some boxes from a small couch onto the floor and offered her a seat, arching a brow when he found her handing him a package, which he carefully unwrapped to take a look at.

"Ah, so the out-and-about Jonathan Granger is slowly morphing into the eccentric loner Jonathan Granger, is he?" the redhead teased him mercilessly, perching herself on the edge of the couch to watch his reaction to the little gift. "Better be careful about that - if you start buying multitudes of cats or thimbles or whatever, Lelah'll perform an intervention."

He chuckled. "No worries. Cats hate me and I never learned to sew." He wasn't too worried about Lelah. She was the only person who had any inkling what he was up to and though she hadn't stamped it with her approval, she hadn't stopped him either. But then, he hadn't told her much. "Lelah will be on to her next project soon enough." As would they all, he thought a little wistfully. He paused a moment to take a look at the memento, turning it over to read all the names of the people he'd come to know, some more than others.

"Wow, you're morbid today, aren't you? No one's leaving town, Jon, this isn't like Earth," Vicki reminded him with a gentle nudge. "Besides, it's not over until the premiere, and that's not until December or some crazy month like that. You've got the Shanachie to keep you busy until then, right?"

"It's not over until the Fat Lady sings," he muttered, somewhat under his breath, not even sure where that came from. He blinked out of his thoughts and looked up, moving over to a small desk where some papers and pens were scattered about, and leant the plaque against a wall so he could see it. "I've got a few weeks off before the next play." But that didn't mean there weren't preparations to be made, lines to learn, rehearsals, an apartment to be moved into, among other things. A wedding to attend. He frowned a little at the thought of that.

"Ah, so that means you have some free time." Vicki pushed herself to her feet, giving him a gentle poke in the ribs for the frown. "I just so happen to have a spare ticket to Seven Brides, tomorrow night. You just talked yourself into being my escort for the night." She grinned at him. "My treat. You need a night off from being Mr Big Movie Star And All Round Worry Wart."

He had his back turned to her and staring at the memento she'd given him, rather wistfully; another chapter in his life finished. One more movie, one more role. Onto the next one. Blinking out of his thoughts when she poked him, Jon chuckled. "Is that what I am' A worry wart' You know what that makes you?"

"Desperate for a date so I don't look utterly sad at the theater tomorrow?" she asked with a bright smile, pleased to have wiped the frown off his face.