I quickly turned my attention back to the six or so lawyers in front of me, all of whom stood silently. Everyone was positioned awkwardly; I was leaning against the sturdy oak desk that dominated the spacious office, and the lawyers and advisors stood around me in a half-circle. I wasn't sure why I was at the head of the room, but no one made a move to reclaim a position behind the desk.

"It's a very private and unfortunate situation, one that his family doesn't wish to discuss openly," began one of them. "He was ill for quite some time, so this doesn't come as much of a shock."

"That's terrible!" I lamented, unsure of what else to say. After all, I barely knew the guy, and I was sure he'd led a nice, cushy life of excess. "Who will take his place in representing me? I hope you have someone with equal experience--I don't want to have to find another firm." I didn't waste much time grieving the loss, as they didn't seem ready to indulge it, and I just wanted to get the fuck out of the building.

"Precisely why we've asked you here today. We believe we have the perfect candidate for you. He's young, highly capable and very thorough in his work," the same man continued, while his colleagues nodded stiffly in agreement.

"Oh? Well, where is he?" I raised an eyebrow inquisitively, seeing no one fitting of that description among the men in the office. Before anyone could reply, there was a brusque knock at the door, and almost simultaneously, an extremely handsome young man stepped in. He was dressed in a stylish black suit--very casual in comparison to his colleagues--with an orange tie. His dark hair was tousled and messy, but I was sure it was no accident. There was a certain polish to his wayward tufts of hair that I was certain took a significant amount of time to achieve each morning. He looked rugged, with his brooding eyes tucked beneath wisps of hair, but his full mouth and elegant jawline made me wonder if he was gay. He was much too pretty for a straight man.

"Oh, am I late?" he smiled, his face devoid of sincerity. "I'm sorry," he said--apparently quite satisfied with himself--as he looked everyone in the eye. He made his way over to the desk, pulled the chair out, and plopped himself down. I followed him with my eyes when he made his way past me, and turned my body completely to face him as he sat down. I crossed my arms over my chest, narrowing my eyes and clenching my jaw in displeasure. "Frankly," he continued with a cocky smile, resting his elbows on the desk, "this meeting isn't exactly ranking high on my list of priorities."

"And who the fuck are you?" I asked irately. Not gay, deeefinitely not gay, I thought to myself. I could tell that, in his mind, he was a big, giant, walking cock, and the world was his slippery, welcoming vagina, waiting to be fucked by him again and again.

"This is Brian Reed," the man in the grey suit interjected. "He's the candidate we're suggesting to replace Bill."

"Are you serious? This is the kind of guy I screw--an arrogant, possibly mindless prettyboy. I'd be better off representing myself," I snapped at them, narrowing my eyes. "Not to mention that the fucker stole my name."

"See? She doesn't want me to be her lawyer, so if you could just find some other moron to deal with her, that would be super," he smiled again, a matter-of-fact expression on his face. "What does she need a lawyer for, anyway? She's just a wrestler, so aside from the occasional 'possession of illegal steroids' trial, she probably doesn't require legal services," he sharply tilted his head to one side, his lips forming a tight, fake smile that transuded arrogance. I furrowed my brows, clearly annoyed.

"Right, because I'm so huge and beefy," I rolled my eyes. "If you're going to talk to me, don't do it through your ass, fool."

"Hey, you haven't wrestled in four years. You probably haven't exercised in just as long. In fact, you look like you might need to hit the gym...you know, only if you want to regain that figure of yours."

"Well now, you know quite a bit about me for someone so disinterested in behaving with any semblance of civility when you speak to me. Do you have a poster of me covered in jizz stains like every other boy in this country? Am I your Madame X, dear?" I glared at him, my neck strained, fingers digging into my arms.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," one of the lawyers finally said, feeling that the childish exchanges between us had gone on long enough. He scowled at Brian, though it didn't seem to differ from his normal espression. "Ms. Reed, I'm terribly sorry about this," he glanced over at me apologetically, "but we'll leave you two to discuss this matter further. We truly believe that this is in your absolute best interests, and do know that we would never wish to jeopardize the status of your account with us," he pressed his lips together, forming a thin, sad little line of a smile, as he and his men began to rigidly exit the room. The two of us stared at each other in silence. He was still smiling--and I yearned to reach out and smack the expression off his face--with his head, once again, cocked to one side in preparation for what was sure to be another disparaging remark. I wasn't sure what to do, so I reciprocated, my eyes angrily fixated on him.

"Listen, I don't want to go to have to deal with you either, but work is work," he shrugged slightly. "We just have to look over your Sin Wrestling contract and get all other legalalities sorted out, so we don't have to see each other!"

"Oh you'd think that," I began. "But you'd be wrong. There's one big difference between us, darling, and that's that nothing in my life depends on you. You, on the other hand, must face your idiot boss, and explain how you managed to lose my account in a matter of seconds." I shifted my gaze away from his, picked my bag up, and turned to the door. As I walked out of the room, I heard him muttering obscenities to himself, obviously frustrated that he'd have to appease me somehow. Ohhh, the joys of celebrity. I walked out of the office, quickly making my way to the elevator. I pressed the button and leaned back against the wall parallel to the elevator doors, silently counting down from ten, curious to see how long it would take him to beg for my forgiveness. I reached three when his slightly frazzled figure appeared, his quick steps peppered with half-hearted jogging as he made his way towards me.

"Jesus, you didn't have to get your fucking panties in a twist." He straightened his jacket out and leaned against the wall beside me.

"Wow, that was clever. They sure were right when they told me about your wit!" I sneered, looking straight ahead, as if he were invisible.

"Well, what can I say? I expected a muscular, androgynous creature in tights when I was told I'd be representing a wrestler. Not some meek, girly thing like you," he replied with an annoying sort of mock enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes and let my head fall to the side so that our eyes met. He grinned at me, his jaw slightly clenched.

"That's special for you, you must feel smug in your ignorance," I said flatly. There was a ding, signalling the arrival of one of the four elevators. "Catch you on the flipside, lawyer boy," I used the wall as leverage to launch myself back into walking position. He followed close behind.

"Awww, just like a puppy, sniffing around at my heels, desperate to keep up!" I marvelled, stepping into the elevator.

"Ha! Is that why you don't like me? I'm not fawning over you, like some pathetic yes man?" he shot at me, pressing the lobby button. "You're lucky Bill died, because now you can have a real lawyer. Someone who won't bullshit you."

"Is that why you don't like me? Because I don't find your 'in your face' attitude refreshing?" I countered. He was silent. "Whatever. No point in acting like we know each other," I muttered. He remained silent. "Well smack my ass and call me Frank! When did this get so awkward, and why the fuck are you still with me?"

"Listen, we'll go for lunch, or some other social fuckwaste of time, and we'll just get the damn papers signed," he looked at me, waiting for me to look back.

"Sounds like a kickass fuckin' time!" I said sarcastically. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. I walked out, leaving him to once again trail after me. "So how long is this going to take?" I asked in a choleric tone, as I slid a pair of ridiculously large, yellow sunglasses over my eyes. I was growing increasingly frustrated with the situation, but as we exited the building, the depressing, rigid atmosphere instantaneously melted away. Mellifluous rays of sunshine filtered down on us, accompanied by a strong breeze created by the many skyscrapers in the vicinity. Sure, it was December, but I'd barely needed a coat at all so far and the weather remained abnormally warm.

"You need to sign some documents and contracts to secure your account with me, we have to review your SW contract...and I guess that's it." A large, grey cloud drifted lazily overhead, briskly casting shadows over us as he interrupted my moment, nearly ruining it by answering a question I myself had asked.

"I see," I said, looking over at him. We locked eyes for a fleeting moment, before the portentous clouds sped away to once again bathe us in golden sunlight.

"Where do you want to do this?" he asked, quickly turning his head forward. "Can we just go back to my office?" He didn't wait for me to answer.

"Never," I replied quickly. "I don't do offices." He stopped walking, but I didn't notice and kept going.

"Just make an appointment with my secretary when you're ready, okay princess?" he barked at me, once I was a couple of metres away. I turned around to face him, wishing he'd stop being so melodramatic about everything. This made me sadly realize that I'd have to constantly deal with melodramatic, whacked out people for as long as I was with SW. Perhaps that's why I was being forced to deal with some random asshole, so as to prepare me for the wrestling business, to remind me that no one was going to take care of me, but me. And maybe Morgy.

"Whatever you say," I shrugged, knowing that the only way to deal with this situation, and many situations to come, was to not let him get to me. Indifference. Once again, he wore a smile of confidence and arrogance, only this time, frustration tugged at the corners of his eyes, giving him the air of a madman. I turned on my heel without looking back and set out for my car. Well, Morgy's car. I chuckled to myself. It was funny because I didn't know how to drive, nor would I ever know unless I was magically morphed into Mario Kart 64 land. There, and only there, would my driving skills be unmatched.

Morgy sat in the driver's seat of the offensively pink Mini Cooper she drover--custom made, naturally--looking bored while texting someone. Timothy, I assumed.

"Sup baby?" she inquired half-assedly as I plunked myself crudely into the passenger seat.

"Eh, meh, eh. Meh," I grumbled. "Needs less lawyers."

"Understandable. Did you sign those SW contracts yet?" She started the ignition and pulled out of the parking spot.

"Aw heyll naw, I'm still wondering what the fuck we've gotten ourselves into, to be honest," I admitted, a tinge of panic in my voice. "I made enough money from XWW and NEW alone to live a fat and sassy, workfree life till I'm dead. It almost seems shameful work again when it's so unneccessary."

"What, you'd rather hang out at U of T's Portuguese department and pretend that love of cod constitutes an interesting culture?" she snickered.

"Hey man, Brazilians are the masters of soap operas. It's worth learning the language just for that!" I exclaimed defensively. The thought of my love for retarded soap operas gave me warm fuzzies. "Anyway, I was always so half-assed with wrestling. I trained so hard all my life, but when I actually got to a fed, everything I did was mediocre. I don't want to get into this shit again just to be mediocre."

"Maybe you weren't ready for the responsibility back then," Morgy suggested. "I mean, I did sort of just drag you into it randomly. You weren't really prepared for it."

"No, I guess not. I was just needlessly arrogant with a total 'a-hyuck!~! whatevs~!' attitude about everything. Hell, I spent more time fucking Jeff Evans than I did working out or training. And twice as much time bitching about how I didn't want to be there."

"Do you actually want to be there now?" she asked cautiously. "Or are you just going back because you don't know what else to do with yourself?"

"Little bit of A, little bit of B. It's like you said, very little compares to the rush of not only wrestling in front of 50, 000 people, but of just standing in front of them, all eyes on you. I have to say, the past, what, three or four years have been really, really anti-climactic. Going from random and constant adulation to sitting in a roomful of boring university kids, learning how to say the weather is nice in Portuguese, is really hard."

"Ewww, university kids," Morgy shuddered.

"For serious. That made me realize just how good I had it in the wrestling business. Even though I was a lazy hack and never performed as well as I should have, I was appreciated. Clearly, that's the best kind of job for me--doing very little and getting a lot out of it." I grinned.

"But you just said you wanted to do it right this time."

"Well, yes, that too. Obviously I'm no you; you got so fucking good during your last run that they may as well have shut wrestling down completely. But I'd like to be able to show more for my years of training than a nanosecond of a World Title reign," I griped, shaking my fist menacingly at no one in particular.

"Oh my god, you're like a cranky old grandma about that!" Morgy laughed, having heard the same whiny, bitter spiel countless times.

"I know that as soon as I have a match, all the same old trite excuses for insults will start being flung around. Every guy I'm put against will be like, 'Oh, she's just a girl, which means she's a whore, which means she's not a worthy opponent!!!! Tuhuhuhuh, logic doesn't escape me at all!~!' And if it's not that, it will be, 'She's just a Morgana wannabe, blah blah blah.' Of course we're similar; we grew up together, we spend 95% of our time together. If we were monkeys, we'd spend all our time picking at each other's parasites. And possibly asses. Who knows what monkeys do these days." I waved my arm, dismissing the subject I wasn't sure why I'd brought up.

"...monkeys?" Morgy shifted her eyes.

"Oh I don't know. Shut up. Anyway, I have to prep myself mentally, train myself to be indifferent to retarded remarks like that. It's just that all the guys who usually say that shit are so dull and impossible to differentiate from one another as it is, I can't help but be pissed off that they're so content in their hypocrisy."

"Please, don't even start. I dealt with that shit a whole hell of a lot more than you. Only, in my last couple of runs, you weren't there, so I didn't even get comparisons to you, I just got the whore bit every fucking match. Some people's kids, I tell you," she shook her head bitterly, so annoyed at the memory that she practically drove past her own house.

"Well fuck everyone this time. They're going to have to do a lot more than use thesauri to find words far above their reading level to insult us with."

"Ha!~!" Morgy cackled, much like Alf would have. "Seriously though, when are you going to sign your SW contract? Needs less beating around the bush."

"I'll beat around your bush!~!@" I screeched, raising my fist to shake it menacingly again.

"Hay baby, that better be a promise!~!" she winked retardedly at me.

"But seriously, I have to meet with that there lawyer fellow again, have him look everything over, make sure it's kosher."

"I already had my lawyer do that. God legal meetings are boring," she moaned at the memory. Finally, we'd arrived back at Morgy's estate. She parked the car haphazardly half on concrete and half on the lawn, knowing that a groundsperson would move it into the garage eventually.

"You haven't been eating the chocolate fudges out of the Quality Street chocolates, have you?" I asked suddenly as we walked up the front steps, sounding almost hysterical. She sighed.

"No, I haven't."

"Are you sure? Because I count those. I know how many there are and how many there should be," I rambled sternly.

"Shut up, Dor." Upon entering the house, we decided to build a fort in the living room and watch Queer As Folk DVDs/nap in it, savouring our last few moments of simple life. Soon things would get hectic and crazy and probably pretty petty. We'd rarely be home and have time to act like carefree children. For better or for worse, Morgy and Adora were back in the wrestling world.