Participants:
Featuring
| Scene Title | Hodgepodge At Studio K |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Panel discussions, a visitor accused of being a thief, and a pink and blue bunny? |
| Date | February 22, 2011 |
Studio K is a hubub of activity during the day. The afternoon heralds soooo much activity that it’s a constant small miracle that workers don’t run into each other. Of course, with this kind of activity, reception pays little attention to the goings-on— constantly signing for packages, taking calls, and giving visitor passes. In fact, it’s this time of day that has reception with the polar opposite effect it’s supposed to have. It’s not acting as the gatekeeper it’s supposed to be.
Regardless, Bradley Russo and Devon sit in the break room. Having a ‘meeting’. Yeah…
”Alright, so T-Rex and Ironman get into a fight… who wins?” There’s mischief written across Brad’s face. Of course, all of this was spurned on by his whiteboard of fail that had been hanging in his office. The panel is still weak despite his best efforts to the contrary. And a weak panel? That inevitably degenerates into conversation about T-Rex and the only true ways to rebuild the panel; which, without K around to hone him in, degenerates into Brad figuring out who can beat T-Rex, particularly when his assistant is around.
HIs suit is well pressed, stylish, and he didn’t buy it— obvious as it has little flair to it; no Brad personality spilling out along the cuffs, sleeves, or tie. Someone else dressed him today.
”Wait. Let’s dream big, maybe I can get Mayes in here to comment on the Dome? Maybe?”
They say to sneak in to a place you don't belong, you simply have to act like you belong there. Unfortunately, Nora doesn't look like she belongs here, in her Converse sneakers, skinny jeans and hoodie sweatshirt, but then sneaking past the receptionist wasn't very hard — the receptionist was flirting with the UPS man.
Trying hard not to roll her eyes at lines such as, 'Brown is such a nice color on you!' Nora snuck by the marble counter and down the hall, looking for someone who is supposed to be here — someone she hasn't seen in a very long time.
Her dark head peeks into the break room, expecting someone to be there, but not the "talent." Catching sight of Brad Russo talking to his young intern, Nora suddenly pulls her head back and steps away from the door, glancing down the long hall to where the green letters gleam EXIT. This was a bad idea.
Unlike his employer, Devon is not dressed to the nines. He's ranking more about five or six, considering the single cut and various shades of bruising on his face, though he has cleaned up in shirt and tie. The coat is …somewhere, removed earlier and forgotten. He'll find it before going home.
"You don't need a panel to answer that question," Devon is saying in response to Iron Man versus T-Rex. "So long as Tony Stark's suit lives through the digestive juices, he's bound to win." His banter, while serious in thought, is accompanied by a shadow of a grin. A grin that becomes a fraction more forced. "Talking about the Dome would get some good ratings," the boy admits. "Mayes would —"
His words cut off, Devon catching movement at the break room door. Strange. "…Mayes would be someone to get a statement from. Does she work here?" His head tips toward the door, eyes flicking to Russo.
Sneak. Sneak. Sneak. "What are we staring at?" The man that approaches Nora is neither tall, dark, nor handsome. He's tiny. And reaching for her wrist. He's wearing a bright pink shirt, and he's gaping at the visitor. He's supposed to be one of the gatekeepers, but having left his perch on watch, Dirk is determined to put a kaibosh on the stalkers. Except Brad's. Because. He doesn't like him. Yeah, some grudges never die. "I'll give you his phone number— " Dirk points towards the break room and the host "— and his address— " Yeah…
The notion of someone there that doesn't belong has Brad leaning back in his chair. A little bit. A little bit more. A little bit. Wait. Is Dirk talking to her, "Sh— " the curse is interrupted as Russo a la chair crashing to the ground making such a clatter. He jumps up out of it seconds later.
Nora's hand is snatched away before Dirk's hand can close on her wrist, but she knows she's the one who isn't supposed to be here, and she takes a few steps back. "No — I was looking for someone, a friend. He works here," she says quickly, even as the chair crashes to the ground inside the break room and she winces.
So much for being stealthy.
"I'll — I'll come back later. Or call him. Or something." Or something. Like a 3 a.m. radio conversation when she can catch him alone. Her cheeks flushing with anger at herself and at embarrassment for the attention focused on her, she takes another step back, then moves to head down that hallway toward the exit.
A half step behind Russo, though not knocking his chair over, Devon moves for the door. Instinct for action takes over, like a switch flipped off, and Dirk finds himself subject to a dark look from the intern. It's almost a miracle he's not being targeted for violence. It's brief, and then he's looking past the ratty little man in the pink shirt to Nora trying to make for the exit.
"Hey, stop," Devon calls after Nora. Dirk earns a second look, dispassionate. But again the man is dismissed, the boy moving down the hall more slowly, though no less intense.
"Hey! Stop!!" Dirk calls rather than chases after Nora. His eyes divert to the television host, to whom he holds up his hands, raising them high in the air, while his blue eyes turn down to Russo's hands, "Watch where you point those things— " His eyes flick towards where Nora ran, "Uh.. she's stealin' stuff." He shrugs. The gatekeeper as spoken.
Russo, fortunately, summarily ignore Dirk (aside from the theft comment perhaps). "Hey! Wait— " he traipses down the hall after the woman, reaching out a hand to catch her, not that he'll grab for a lady. "What are you doing here? If you're— " he caught the brief conversation in the hall, "looking for something, I know everyone here, I could help you find them— " his eyebrows furrow as he takes a few quick paced steps after her to close the distance, but he isn't in the business of scaring people either (especially while dressed in such a fine suit; it's a thing of beauty).
"I was not stealing anything!" Nora says sharply, turning back with her eyes wide — if she darts out the door with that accusation on her head, it's very possible there will be security to contend with outside. "I've been in the building for five minutes tops — that's not even enough time to steal anything."
Her eyes dart to Devon and then back to Russo. "I was looking for someone who works here, but I'll … I'll just catch him later."
Devon falls into step behind Russo, letting his boss field accusations or assurances. He'll remain a presence for now, simply the observant intern. Just as quickly as that switch, that coldness was turned on, it filters away, leaving a shadow of it remaining. His eyes flick from Nora to Russo, then back again.
"She could've stole anything!" Dirk counters emphatically as he slides after the others. "Gone in 30 seconds.. or 60 seconds.. she could be really fast if she wants!" And then, more wickedly with a keen waggle of his eyebrows he mutters, "Speaking of which.." he slides closer to Nora, "We could have dinner together. You. Me. Some piano guys battling it out in a duelling piano bar. A glass of gin. I bet we could be gone in sixty seconds— "
"I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit," Brad virtually gags as he rolls his eyes. Turning to Nora, he apologizes, "I'm sorry, he was born without that thing in your brain that says you've gone to far," a glance is given Dirk. A very quick glance. "Who're you looking for? I'm sure I know them. It's not a big deal— I could even let them know you stopped by— "
"How about I rip your balls off and shove them in your mouth so you can't talk?" Nora hisses to Dirk — it's probably not the smartest way to avoid getting in trouble, but the swap from accusing her of theft to hitting on her has her cheeks flushing with anger and indignation.
Dark eyes dart back to Russo and her brows knit. "Kincaid," she finally says. Maybe knowing him will keep her out of trouble — he can put in a good word for her.
Nora's response actually draws a choked laugh from Devon. He tries covering it with a cough, raising knuckles to his mouth. "Sorry," he mutters, shifting a look to Russo. Another quiet clearing of his throat, and the intern sets his tie to rights and rolls down his sleeves. Straightening again, the humor fades as he looks at Dirk for a long moment before allowing his attention back to Nora and Russo.
"I like a woman with claws," Dirk counters as his eyebrows waggle again. He slides a little close to Nora and raises his chin, triumphant that she's talking to him; even if it is an insult. "We could enjoy time together under the starlight— " begging questions whether he really believed she was stealing anything in the first place.
"Just. Go. Find your boss or something," Brad waves Dirk away flippantly, not that the other man moves as a result. "She doesn't want to talk to you, just. Go. Okay? I'm sure K has some errand for you or something." Dirk doesn't leave, however, focus back on Nora and the comment about Kincaid, "Ooooh. Are you Jolene?" Brad asks with a tilt of his head as he extends a hand to Nora. "I think I owe you an apology. I was supposed to call you first, not Calvin— " he cringes slightly. "Sorry about that."
Brad's head cranes down the hall and then towards reception, asking no one in particular, "Have you seen Caid? He's got a visitor— Jolene." Assumption already made.
Rounding the corner toward her office with a stack of scripts loaded into her arms, Kristen Reynolds looks up from the top one and pushes the glasses up her nose to make herself look like less of a librarian. "While I don't mind you castrating my assistant, I'd have to insist that you pay for his time off and find me a replacement." Even though the comment is made flippantly, there's no smile on the woman's face, indicating that it might not be a joke.
The stack lands with a heavy thump on Dirk's desk and K gives him a strained smile. "I need the top one sent to Dunham, the second one sent to his writers, the third one sent to his director, the fourth-fifth-and-sixth sent to the cameras and all the rest put in the vault for guests." She turns slightly as if to go into her office before stopping and giving him a look. "Why are you still here?"
Nora's eyebrows raise and she shakes her head. "No, not Jolene. I'm Nora," she says, before narrowing her eyes at Kristen's threat or warning or joke, whichever it is. "Jolene's sister," she adds, stepping forward to offer her hand to Russo.
"Big fan, by the way," is added with a toothy smile. "And calling Calvin's always a mistake, honestly." Her eyes narrow just a touch at that. "Is he … is he okay? Kincaid I mean. I haven't seen him since… well, before the Dome." Her chin quavers just a touch and her eyes drop down.
Keeping a sober face, Devon presses against the wall to let Dirk pass, even flourishing a hand wave. "I think the next episode should feature a T-Rex eating Dirk," he asides to Russo. "Bet the ratings would skyrocket. Especially if Iron Man had a cameo." The intern's eyes flick past the assistant to Kristen, brows lifting. The Boss.
Squaring one shoulder, checking his tie again, Devon resumes being oh so studious of Brad and Nora's exchange. His brow creases slightly, whether from the arrival of Kristen or the ever present topic of the Dome is unclear. It could be both. Absently, the boy fidgets with his cuffs, buttoning the sleeves as both a distraction and to appear more professional.
"Duty calls, Doll~" Dirk holds up his hand to his ear and mouth in a phone position— universal sign for the words he mouths Call me.
The hand is easily accepted into a firm shake as Russo shoots Nora a broad grin, "Brad. Good to meet you." As far as Calvin is concerned, "I regretted making that call shortly after I dialled. Apologize to your sister for me, one of these days I'll learn to follow directions." There's an easiness about him as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
Brad nods tightly, "Caid's okay. He's.. good, I think. Thankful, I bet." His lips take on a lopsided quality. And, then doing his friend-duty (a tone and task Kristen will likely recognize from Brad being an awesome wingman for his male friends for years) he tacks on, "He's a good egg that one. Smart. KNows what he's doing. Brave. He's got some good qualities."
One eyebrow rises sharply at the mention of the assistant producer and Kristen stiffens. Raising her hand to slowly pull her glasses off, she uses the bottom of her shirt to clean a spot off of them. Very discreetly, she eyes the young woman, then Brad, then Devon…
It's the poor intern that acquires her attention for the longest while. Perhaps only because she can't remember hiring the young man, but he's got a badge so she must have. Straightening up, she folds the glasses and places them on Dirk's desk. The desk seems to have a collection of reading glasses on it, they might all be hers. "Kristen Reynolds," she says with a very slight toothy smile, jutting a hand out to the boy in greeting. It turns into a finger gun before he can take hold to shake and she clicks her tongue while pulling the 'trigger' twice. "I don't remember doing an interview for you. What show are you on?"
One of these things is not like the others. Nora shifts uneasily from one sneaker to the other, eyes leaving Russo's face to watch Kristen introduce herself to Devon, and she offers the other teenager a sympathetic smile as if she can sense his unease, especially at the word Dome.
"Yeah, I had a couple of friends in there… I'm just glad they're okay." She glances at Devon, again, and frowns slightly, eyes moving back to Russo. "As okay as they can be, anyway. I'm sure you can't go through something like that without…" she swallows, eyes dropping as she studies her toes and then looking back up. "'Caid is all that, yeah. He's a great guy. You don't have to tell me." There's a fond smile as she tucks a hair behind her ear.
"If he's not here, I should go," she adds, adjusting the backpack on her shoulders.
"Yes, ma'am," Devon quickly replies, half reaching for the outstretched hand. A strained grin meets the 'shooting', tension running through his posture. The aborted handshake is lowered, fingers twitching, curling inward a fraction. "No… No, Ms. Reynolds. I'm Devon… Devon Clendaniel. I…" His eyes flick toward Russo briefly, then beyond to Nora before turning back to Kristen. "I'm Mister Russo's intern… assistant."
There's a firm nod at Devon's words and Brad's hand reaches out to clap the young intern on his back. That's right, Russo can have an assistant too. Who doesn't ride segways (pro-tip Devon, if you want to keep your position don't ride a segway through the studio, it'll keep Russo happy).
"So you're good friends with Caid then?" Brad's chin drops slightly. "He's probably around here somewhere…" His eyes track to Kristen, "Have you seen Kincaid? It'd be good to find him anyways. Devon and I were just trying to strengthen the panel. We're agreed Ironman could beat a T-Rex." Yes Kristen, this is how meetings degenerate when you're not around. "And that we'd like Mayes if we could get her. Of course," he smirks good naturedly, "That might be T-Rex beating Ironman." The implication is left to hand, allowing those present to draw their own conclusions. "I bet Kincaid is making coffee somewhere…"
Folding her arms across her chest, Kristen levels Russo with a look when he mentions Ironman beating a T-Rex. "Well of course he could. Ironman has a bigger brain, he can outthink, outshoot, and outfly a T-Rex… besides those things have laughably tiny little arms. Now if you're talking about who could beat who on the panel you should ask yourself if Darth Vader could beat Spiderman." Riddle me that one Batman.
"I don't think Mayes has laughably tiny arms… unless her mother was taking those drugs… I can't rembmer the name. Point is, Mayes is not a T-Rex. Or Ironman… You're more Ironman because of the whole— " She curls her hands into fists and raises them just enough to make tiny little punches in the air. It's a good natured smile that follows it, "So instead of B-Rad, we need to call you Tony, hmm?"
"Yeah, I'm Kincaid's friend," Nora repeats herself, crossing her arms a little defensively as her eyes slide to Kristen, to see if anyone knows where her friend is, but apparently T Rex versus Iron Man versus Georgia Mayes is the topic at hand.
"Does he maybe have an office or something I can check in? I should have called but I … I lost my cell phone." Or she never had one. Her brows furrow, her head tipping slightly, as if listening to far off conversations that no one else can hear.
Devon flinches, a twitch in his cheek, at the slap on his back. It takes a measure of the wariness down, some of the tension released. But dismissed as easily as being questioned, he directs his attention to Nora and offers an apologetic, single shoulder shrug. "I'm… still new here… The Dome kind of… not long after I started. I don't know him, but I can help you find his office at least."
"Vader can beat anyone," Russo counters. "He could've kicked Luke's butt. Seriously. I mean that hand is cut like already-melty butter," this, of course, begs some measure of reenactment, "Nooooooooooooo!" he fake loses his hand, tucking it into his sleeve too fluidly not to be rehearsed.
"Imagine what he could've done if they didn't have that whole father-son bond going on." He grins slightly, only to have his smile falter ever so slightly, "That's one thing Hollywood assumes: there's something about chromosomes. It assumes that fathers are all connected to their children with or without time together. Frankly, experience dictates otherwise."
"And yeah, Kincaid has some space— just— " Russo points vaguely down the hall. He turns back to face Devon, "The Kid can take you there, I think we're making no progress on this panel anyways…"
Kid doesn't have to lead the way toward Kincaid's small corner of the building's office spaces, because it seems he's wandered into the hallway where all the talking is going on with a cup of coffee held in his hands and a slight serious look on his face. The bruises and cuts have still not healed fully, showing against his skin where they're visible, but this isn't the first time he's been in the office looking like he was beat up. Though this time he's been willing to explain why.
Blaming Humanis First is better than blaming a 'friend' who decided to punch your face in cause you're cheating.
Kincaid stands there looking at the group for a moment, a serious expression knitting his forehead. And he doesn't seem to recognize his guest just yet.
Kristen just happens to be facing Kincaid when the smell of his coffee makes itself more known than he does. ""Kaytoo," she calls out in greeting, lifting her hand just enough to waves two fingers at him. "This young lady…" She glances over at Nora and sucks in a small hissing breath through clenched teeth. Someone's been too busy thinking about who could be who instead of paying attention to names. "… here. Is looking for you but before you disappear with her back to your office, tell me— Who do you think would win in a panel discussion, Buffy or Santa Clause?"
It's a valid question, really it is.
"Kincaid!" Nora squeaks as she sees him, hurrying around others and toward the young man, looking like she might leap into his arms in a tackling hug but stopping short; her brow furrows as she stares at him, taking in his wounds, teeth biting down on her lower lip as her dark eyes fill with tears. Her arms open to invite him to hug her, since she's not sure where it won't hurt him.
Tears slip past her long lashes an she shakes her head. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you," she whispers.
"Huh, that's Kincaid," Devon says to himself. Rolling a shoulder, the intern glances away from Nora and the new arrival, eyes shifting first to Kristen and then to Russo. Lifting a hand to scratch at the healing knife cut on his cheek, he all too casually sinks back a step and resumes a place at Brad's shoulder.
Thundering down the hallway, a large stuffed bunny bounces along the hallway. Its ears wrapped up in one hand. The pink and blue creature swings unceremoniously on its brisk path through Studio K. The stuffed toy is large. Huge even. Like won at a giants carnival. One large hand wrapped around the pair of large rabbit ears.
Big R is moving through the hallway at a brisk pace. Black skullcap pulled down around his head the dark skinned man is dressed exceptionally nice today. Which is just above his average. A pin stripe suit jacket is worn over a white wife-beater, but at least the jacket is pinned together. The behemoth of a man slows his pace as he witnesses the mini-crowd in front of him, the giant bodyguard pulling up the giant bunny up against his chest as he moves beside the group.
Not waiting for Kincaid's answer to Kristen's question, he hmmms. "Buffy. That woman is a vampire slayer. Articulate. And semi-educated. And how else can Santa go around the world in one night aside from Vampiric powers? Makes sense, right? Santa's age alone should dictate some major differences between Santa and the slayer. I bet he hasn't been to school in a hundred years or better." His eyebrows arch upwards at his producer, as if questioning whether he answered her question correctly.
He frowns lightly at the reunion, nearly awkward at the embrace between Kincaid and Nora. With a faint twinkle in his eye, he backs up only to run into the wall, banging the back of his head against it lightly. His hand raises to the back of his head and he stifles a vague groan.
The new presence cutting a path through the studio earns a similar groan. So many theatrics at this place in which he works. Brad turns to face Devon at whom he shrugs his shoulders while still rubbing his head.
The question doesn't do much to derail the reunion. Because there's other things to worry about than mythological characters facing off in some kind of epic combat of the century. Like a tearful girl. Kincaid steps closer and pulls her into a comforting hug, though it's only with one arm on his side, cause he has a cup of coffee to worry about. "I'm okay— you've done worse to me in an average sparing lesson, I promise," he tones his voice to be reassuring, but not as if he's talking to someone too much younger than him.
Even if she's around ten years his junior.
"And I don't really know, but I'd go for Santa Claus if only because he has minions at his beck and call." Many, many minions. "…And…" he gestures towards the bunny and those escourting the stuffed animal into sight. With the close hug, he uses the closeness to lower his voice to say to her, "…Wow, No, I should have warned you my work was insane."
"Santa a vampire hmm? We should think about making that into a Halloween special or something. Maybe get KISS to do it, they're desperate, right?" Kristen's hand tucks back into its original position as she muses for a little bit. Turning her head, she sours the desk for her executive assistant and scowls. "Where the hell is Dirk when you need him?" Nevermind that she sent him on an errand only minutes ago.
A pink and blue bunny.
What the hell.
"Okay, what about Buffy versus the Easter Bunny? I think we can all agree that the Easter Bunny isn't a vampire. Zombie isn't off the table though." She eyes the rabbit dubiously until the man behind it comes into view. In a pinstriped suit jacket. "Big R, wht do you think? Easter Bunny a zombie, vampire, or some other supernatural type of creature and could it beat Buffy the Vampire Slayer in a fight?" They've moved beyond panels— Well at least Kristen has.
Nora beams at Kincaid, stepping on tip toe to plant a kiss on his cheek before she slips one hand around his waist, before staring at the bunny with wide eyes and then turning to look at Kristen before arching brows at her friend. "Insane's one word for it. Who the hell is Buffy?" she whispers to him, trying to keep that quiet enough that it isn't heard by the others.
She bites her lower lip and then adds, "You wanna show me around?"
"I…" Devon pauses, eyes catching sight of the bunny and then the man holding it. And he wanted to go back to work today. He rubs at one side of his face, then looks to Russo again. "I think… I'm going back to the break room. To… try and come up with ideas. For your panel." To escape the chaos that is slowly becoming overwhelming. Should have taken another day off, definitely.
The rabbit stops swinging, held against his chest. The large man stops in his tracks, peering at Kristen. Watching her for a moment, his mouth opens for a moment before closing. Peering down at the small people Big R tilts his head to the side as if considering. "Wait.. Is the Easter Bunny and a zombie, and a vampire, and a yeti teaming up to fight Buffy? Or am I just supposed to choose one of them against Buffy?" The large man asks, broadening his stance some to really consider the question.
"If they were on a team, Buffy would be thrown off guard by the Easter Bunny suddenly changing allegiances. However she's a professional and has a lot of experience. Like seven seasons worth, so she would take care of the vampire pretty easily. The zombie." He raises his huge shoulders in a shrug. "Zombies are never a threat unless they're in a ravenous horde, really. So.. that's not much of a team mate. But a yeti.. While she was distracted with the vampire I would say the yeti would fully eat her left leg. She would then kill the yeti but would be constricted to a wheelchair for the rest of her life." Big R smiles.
"Never ask me about fights, all I can do is build a good panel," Brad twists around to squeeze Devon's shoulder lightly. He does what he can to alleviate any latent anxiety for the teen, mostly. Aside from putting him in unusual hallway situations after chasing after a 'thief' through the halls of the studio. Yeah. "I gave up choosing winners of fights long ago." When he gave up fighting. History has an odd way of repeating itself. His eyes glance between the reunited eliciting a vague shrug.
Big R is given an equally vague smile as Brad follows Devon to the break room because sometimes a padawan learner just needs a little support. "I.. should," he points after Devon before shuffling after his intern down the hall.
"I have no idea— some kind of vampire slayer, apparently," Kincaid responds with a small shake of his head, showing that his young friend isn't the only one losing on the pop culture reference. "I got Santa and Easter Bunny covered, at least…" Pop culture may not be his strong suit, but he can try to fake it. And he doesn't have to right now, cause of the rescue of Miss Rosenthal.
"I can show you around— you'll love the radio area," he says with a grin, glancing back at the others and nodding to them, focusing his eyes for a brief moment on 'the Kid' scurrying off to leave, and perhaps even more at Russo going after, before he says, "I trust you to choose wisely on all match ups, K." He raises a hand, to give a hint of a farewell, while also making a 'I wash my hands of this argument'. Cause he doesn't know who the hell Buffy the Vampire Slayer even is. And he's pulling Nora along toward the covetted Radio part of the Studio.
"Yeti… huh… I think you have a good future ahead of you here, Big R," the producer says before moving to the door of her office. "We're going to have to discuss this a little bit more. Remind me to get Dirk to put you down for a writer's meeting regarding a Halloween special about Santa Claus being a vampire." Apparently Kristen's already starting to play around with Kojo's staff, at least with their creative talents.
A long look is given to the departing pair consisting of the assistant producer and his friend. Raising a hand to her chin, she rubs it as she stares down the hall after them. "Who doesn't know who Buffy is…" Rolling her eyes and waving the same hand dismissively, she reaches for the doorknob with the other and swings her office door open. "Dirk take a me— shit… where the hell is he when I need him?"
Somewhere in another part of the studio, the executive assistant is probably joyriding on a segway. The safe money is betting on him chasing down Dunham's models while they're in bikinis.
