When Worlds Collide


hortense_icon.gif tahir_icon.gif

Scene Title When Worlds Collide
Synopsis Or when massage tables collide with Tahir's hip, stars are seen and dates are negotiated where one has never been negotiated before.
Date March 3, 2011

Studio K - Hallways

Someone in the studio just got a massage.

Because there's Hortense, carting her table in it's cover over shoulder, lavender scrubs, buttercup yellow jacket and her hair back in a french braid. Not the most sexiest of outfits, but when she's working, that's how it is. People don't care about sexy or good looking, they want nice hands, soothing voice.

But she's coming out of a hallway, all 5'10 of her, ready to get her some lunch. Hungry after the last session and debating whether she drops her table off in her car and hits up chambery or find some fast food or street vendor. Dilemma. So focused on food, she might run into someone accidentally.



The sounds of somebody's angry ranting comes out of the nearest office. Or one of the offices that are in this Something gets thrown at the wall, probably, considering the way it chunks and smashes. Then there is the sound of the door slamming open and the heavy breathing arrival of one Tahir Avery Dunham!

"RYAN SEACREST! THE GLOVES ARE COMING OFF YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Tahir's actually fistshaking at the ceiling at this moment, before he spins and turns to proceed with his angry stomping through the studio. Unfortunately, fate has something else in store for the talk show host (Up All Night: Coming in March 2011!) as he finds himself running right into some girl with a table.

When Worlds Collide, right?

When tables collide!



Table corners to hips even though there's am abrupt halt to the brunette in the hopes that whomever is in a foul mood isn't going to run into her. But there's not a pair of feet and self brakes on the table all folded up and compact goes swinging forward, hip checking Tahir, sending him off into a wall.

"Fuck. Jeeze,"

Sailing and smacking against the wall, Tahir is already fired up and bubbling over with adrenaline. It has something to do with his intense and physically manifested hatred of Ryan Seacrest. So there's only a bit of a wince that comes from the wall and table abuse that Tahir has fallen prey too.

"Shit!" Tahir reaches for his side and then starts to look up and see if he can't get a good look at whomever just decided they wanted to knock him all upside the body. "Okay, ow?" More wincing. Poor Tahir.

"I am so sorry. You just came careening out of your office and I stopped by my table didn't and please tell me that I did not injure the family jewels. Because if I did.. man am I just very sorry" She doesn't at least, run forward and stick her hands all over him, but Hortense does put the table down, ready to move forward if needed.

Tahir is holding up a hand, though his wincing has turned into something close to a smile when he realizes who he's looking at. It's a hottie. So that's already a bonus right there. The pain has already started to fade. "I'm alright. I think. Don't worry 'bout it." There's a bit of shifting around as he works on standing up nice and straight. "Exactly how sorry are we talking right now? Because I've been known to have relapsing shooting pains in events like this."

"Like, I'm about to tell you that you get a free hour long session possibly two kind of sorry" He's standing upright, that is totally a good sign. A really good sign. "And the number of the truck that hit you. Serious though, are you okay because I know this thing is heavy, I have to cart it around and I'm pretty sure it's capable of breaking bones." She smiles at Tahir apples of her cheeks pink. "Not your first getting nailed by a massage table?"

"By or On?" Tahir flashes a big smile if only to keep the actual pain hidden away. He's not about to show any kind of weakness around a female. Not one he is about to try and swindle into liking him ever so. "Let's see. Two Hour Long Session, free of charge. Your number. AND… I want at least the chance to show you a good time on three separate occasions. I don't really become charming until the third date." Tahir is moving a little more slowly than he was prior to being table'd. But at least he's moving. "Do we have a settlement or should I call my lawyer?" Oh Tahir.

Hortense snaps her fingers at him, ending up with forefinger pointing to his chest. "Two separate hour long sessions, but you have to tip, my number but not my name, because I am so good you will want me to come again, and two dates with an option for a third and the possibility of my name"

She folds her arms, hip cocked to one side, entering into the negotiations. "Should I call my lawyer or do we need to negotiate more? Because I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't be at fault" She cranes her head to look into his office, get a glimpse of the wall that he quite possibly damaged in his own outburst.

Tahir is actually smiling through this entire process. Mostly because he's never really had someone come back at him verbally with the sparring. Well, there have been a couple of people but this one is new territory. Always fun. "Separate Sessions, I always tip, your number, no name, but I get to pick what you wear during my sessions. I can deal with the two date minimum, but I want full date planning rights and no arguments about what we're going to do. Full cooperation."

Tahir smirks at the glimpse that has been given at the wall and he plasters on a victorious smile, while wincing during the crossing of his arms over his chest. "You can't prove that's my office. I can prove your carelessness." And he proceeds to point upwards at Security Camera #12.

"Separate sessions, tips, number, no name, what I wear is non-negotiable, three dates, I relinquish planning rights and arguments with teh caveat that it's not a strip club and full co-operation, going dutch on the first date" Hortense turns to look at the camera and then back to Tahir, one brow rising. "And much like a parking lot accident, it's the person backing out or in this case, running out of his office angry, that is responsible, not the person hefting the massage table. Acceptable parameters?"

Tahir almost is about to jawdrop, but he can see that this deal is going to soon become sour if he doesn't just let it ride. "Acceptable. I can save the strip club for the fourth date." His confidence level is clearly already high enough that he feels he will be getting that fourth date. "You know, you really should consider a change in professions from beating up innocent hallwalkers with massage tables to a lawyer or something."

"Jersey girls don't become lawyers, too many big words. Besides, I like beating up angry white men with my table as they explode forth from their offices. It's a hobby." She reaches over, grabbing a pen from her purse, and taking Tahir's hand in hers, she's scrawling a number on the back of his palm. "I'd write it on a sticky note and put it on your forehead, but I'm fresh out of sticky notes. So this will have to suffice"

She wouldn't sour on the deal, but if she knew he was afraid she would, she'd likely laugh her ass off.

She retracts the pen, clicking it and the nib disappears, slid back into a pocket. She stoops to pick up the table, sliding the strap over her shoulder, adjusting for the weight and winks at him. "Get some ice on it, I can tell it hurts. I don't do this and not be able to read body language"

Tahir is looking at his hand for a long moment. There's a big ol' smile on his face because, "This is so Old School. I love it." He wiggles his fingers and proceeds to inspect the jotted down number all the more carefully, before he's looking back up at the girl that has decided to be an abuser of TV stars with evil tables. "Wha? Hurt? Girl, please. It's gonna' take a lot more than your girly table to hurt Tahir Avery Dunham." He's winking and proceeding with the attempt to flex over dramatically, which only creates more pain. Ow. "Ice. Got it."

"It's all in your legs Mr. Dunham" She see's the name plate, she can read. "I got more clients to see. I'll be seeing you around" Hortense starts to head off, turning once she's halfway down the hall, lifting a hand and pointing her finger at him in imitation of a gun, pretending to fire it before blowing over her forefinger and 'holstering' it.

Hortense turns back around proper and she, and her offending table, disappear from sight around the corner.

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