In the Sweet Jazz Museum, children were all flooding the entrance a few hours before closing time, a few teachers and chaperones were organizing them into their seemingly pre-made groups. A few museum workers also began walking over, a small blue-haired worker was significantly less enthusiastic than the others, her arms were crossed as she lazily sauntered over to one of the groups, clearing her throat she forced herself to be slightly more chipper than she actually was, though, there was a clear sarcastic undertone as she did.