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Spring was on the verge of a triumphant return, with spells of perfect weather gracing the city for a few hours each day, before flickering out and turning frigid. The sun still shone brightly in the distance, but revelers of its prior warmth cursed themselves for their presumptuous flip-flops and shorts.
Adora was no different and, as she breezed through the office of Faust, Ford and Reed, past the secretarial staff - because with the frequence of her visits, she no longer asked to be ushered into Brian Reed's office - she was grateful to be inside, away from the five o'clock chill.
"Hi Princess," Brian greeted Adora in an oddly chipper tone as she entered his office, a pleasant smile playing on his lips.
"What the hell are you so peppy about?" Adora shot back in reply, her guard automatically up and her eyes squinted with suspicion. She eased herself cautiously into a chair opposite him and crossed her legs.
"Let's just say that you're getting a three-for-one deal with me for reasons I have yet to really figure out or justify in my mind, and I've been managing, publicizing and lawyerizing you all at once out of the goodness of my heart."
"You're misappropriating funds?!" Adora gasped theatrically, a hand fluttering to her throat.
"Tsk, why must you always put a damper on my mood? Especially when I'm working so hard for you."
"Alright, so what do you have for me?" she asked with an arch of her eyebrow, her interest piqued.
"Let's just say there's going to be a feature film made of the Masters of the Universe cartoons, as well as just She-Ra, Princess of Power, and assuming you don't totally suck--"
"I'm going to be She-Ra?!~" Adora screamed happily, bouncing eagerly in her seat. "How did you manage that? Do I have it for sure? What the fuck?"
"Almost sure - 90%, let's say. Just act capable when you meet with the casting director, producers and director."
"Who's directing it?"
"Sofia Coppola, I believe. And by 'it,' you mean all three movies, right?"
"Three?! Holy shit, son. This is amazing. How are you doing all this? I just met you. And you hate me. And I hate you!"
"Entertainment law, baby. I'm a celebrity in my own fucking right. You do know that a good lawyer can make you a superstar, right?" Brian asked, as if stunned that she would be so naive.
"In an industry that crushes the modest and humble, it's no wonder you've gotten so far," Adora said, shaking her head incredulously. "What worries me, though, is the day that you come to me and demand some outrageous return for your troubles. Like my firstborn or something."
"I'm working more for points right now. The bigger I make you, the bigger I make myself. I can't believe I went into this working relationship so sourly, not seeing the possibilities."
"Points my ass; I pay you a lot as it is. Points are payment from those who have yet to establish themselves."
"True. But the richer you get, the richer I get. And since you already have a fanbase, think of how much easier it'll be!"
"That works for me!" Adora cackled, indifferent to the business aspect of Brian's assistance - she was still trying to wrap her head around the awesomeness that would be her She-Ra and Princess Adora costumes.
"I have some other stuff to sort out with you; paperwork and the like."
"Can Morgy be in the movie too?!" Adora asked suddenly, certain that the answer would be 'no,' but feeling obliged to ask anyway.
"I'm going to say yes, even though I have absolutely zero say in real life."
"She will be Glimmer!" Adora proclaimed, her eyes darting about wildly as she tapped her fingertips against each other, channelling her best Mr. Burns.
"Yeaaah, we'll see. Now shut up and sit down, we have work to do."
"Cool," Adora grinned, choosing not to fight him or say anything crusty as a show of gratitude. "Wait, I am sitting down," Adora realized as she glanced down at her reposing legs, apparently perplexed by the revelation. "Sorry, I'm a bit frazzled today. I have to leave for Atlantic City tomorrow to hang out-slash-beat people up in a casino." She reached into her large, plaid shoulder bag and pulled out a water bottle full of brilliant blue liquid. She took a sip, a blissful smile forming on her lips.
"I see... what is that? Rainbow vitamin water you kooky celebrities think will override the damage caused to your brains and nose cartilage by your cocaine addictions?" Brian demanded, his friendly tone replaced by his more common, less pleasant one.
"God, cartilage is disgusting. When I still ate meat, I always hated biting down on a hunk of that shit by accident. Barf. But seriously, this is what I like to call an 'Electric Surfboard.' Malibu, blue cura�ao, 7-up. lime, tonic and grenadine. It's absolutely delicious."
"I bet. You been drinking that all day?" he asked, extending an expectant hand towards her. She handed him the bottle after taking a swig, and he quickly did the same.
"Nah, I just brought it to help me deal with you," she said.
"Well then, let's have us a little party, shall we?"
"Pass me another booze, will you, Sweetcheeks?" he asked Adora, who was similarly positioned on the other side of the desk. The straps of her black spagetti strap tank top hung limply at her her arms, and her flowing skirt of delicate white cotton was tangled about her legs. Without paying him much attention, Adora grabbed a nearby bottle and slid it across the polished wood - the two had long since polished off the plastic bottle of cocktail, and they had taken to consuming bottles given to Brian by clients as gifts.
"Empty," he stated upon receiving it. She slid another. "Empty... empty... aaaand empty."
"Lissen chumpy," Adora said, pointing a wobbly finger that fell somewhere between accusatory and aimless, "there's gotta be some more boozecohol 'round these parts, and I demand that you find it."
"What's his face has a mini fridge in his office," Brian nodded solemnly, "let us investigrate. I mean gate." He rose gingerly from his chair, bracing himself on the desk. He extended a hand towards Adora who, after several failed attempts at making contact, finally managed to grab it. She nearly toppled them both with the force of lifting herself from the chair, but they used the momentum to cannon ball toward the office door and down the hall.
They reached Geoffrey Faust's office and, after fumbling with the doorknob, spilled into the dark room. Neither one moved as their eyes struggled to adjust to the pitch dark, until Brian grabbed Adora's hand again and tugged her towards an expensive looking mini fridge underneath Geoffrey's desk.
"This guy is such a drunk, it's ridiculous," Brian informed Adora as they crouched to examine the contents of the fridge. "Huh, there's some paper in here."
"Oooh, maybe it's some important document!" Adora squealed with uncharacteristic excitement.
"'Reed - stay out of my stash.' What the, how did he know?!"
"Oh god, that rules both of us out!" Adora moaned as she gave up on crouching and fell backward onto her butt.
"You're technically Redova, so haul ass and grab some bottles!" Brian commanded, stepping out of Adora's way and plopping unceremoniously down onto the ominously large, plush desk chair behind him. Dutifully - but clumsily - she began to amass dozens of tiny sample bottles of various liquors, and almost as many of them as she gathered fell from her grasp with each load.
"Don't they teach you how to do this better in Soviet land? Aren't you people like, born drunken drinking experts in drunken stupors?" he asked, his voice dry and cracking from hours of drinking.
"And that makes you what? French? Portuguese? Or insert any other generally unpleasant nationality here?"
"What the fuck did the Portuguese do to you?" he asked in a defensive tone not fitting of a man who was probably eight kinds of Canadian and nothing else.
"I don't know, but ever since I started studying the language, I've developed an irrational dislike for them." She stood up and dropped an armload of bottles on top of the desk before attempting to straighten her top and skirt - a task she predictably struggled with.
"Kind of like your irrational dislike for me?" Brian asked, catching her completely off guard with his oddly contemplative tone. She stopped what she was doing abruptly and turned slowly to him, a thumb still beneath the pesky spaghetti strap that had once again slid down her shoulder. He sat low in the chair, his arms squarely on the rests, and he gazed up at her with what she would have misconstrued as vulnerability if she didn't know any better. She sighed deeply, her eyes darting about his face for a long moment, drinking in his features, before she allowed her gaze to settle on his.
"You started this animosity!" she exclaimed, struggling with and slurring the word 'animosity.'
"How?"
"You were a prick to me before I had the chance to be anything else to you, so I just followed suit. The really annoying part was that I didn't totally mind you," she admitted, a feeling of regret for having been so honest immediately overcoming her. He sat up properly in the chair and grabbed Adora's arm easily, pulling her to him, then releasing his grip.
"There's something about you that really pisses me off," he told her, as if it were an observation he was just coming to terms with. His eyes bored into hers and, by the moonlight, she could see his jaw pulse as he clenched and unclenched it, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.
"That seems to be the general consensus about me," Adora replied, her voice firm and even. "I guess you're no different."
"Only, there is a distinct difference," he said, rising suddenly from the chair and moving toward her. He was uncomfortably close to her now, a hand sliding beneath her long skirt, the fabric bunching in his palm as he moved up her thigh. His craned his neck as he stared down at her, and she strained her own neck to see him properly through the pieces of hair that obstructed his eyes from her view. She was scared he would back her into an obstacle - a table, chair or misplaced object - and that she would topple to the ground, but for reasons that she could not explain, she found herself trusting him. "I never said I didn't like it," he finished, almost hissing his words.
With a forceful thud, he backed her into the wall she had thought to be much farther away and slipped his other hand under her skirt and up her thigh. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips to his, tightly holding onto him as he lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist, pinning her firmly to the wall.
She bit down on his lower lip and then his cheeks, as if with vengeance as he single-handedly undid the buttons of his suit pants. Both were woefully oblivious to the world around them, focused only on releasing the tension that had been building between them for the last five months, and if they noticed any foreign sounds in the otherwise silent office building, they did not investigate.
1. Going into this match, I had no intention of allowing or asking Morgana to help me in any way. Why would I have wanted that to happen at all? Every god damn week, I have to fight off the same accusations that I only succeed because of her, so asking her to help me would be like digging my own hole. It doesn't make sense.
2. Even after being arbitrarily attacked by Shane Donovan - in front of a bunch of children - I didn't want special treatment from Morgana. But she's her own person, and neither of us got to where we are by allowing pettiness at our expense from random, entitled shitdisturbers. It was her prerogative to referee as she did, and ultimately, I can't say I blame her.
3. I find it funny that a big man such as Shane felt the need to get the SW equivalent of a restraining order against the 110lbs., 5'2" Morgana, despite so regularly and easily writing her off as a competitor. I guess that, just like everyone else, he knows he's not good enough to make it against either wifey on sheer skill alone. Like I said, I wanted to prove that I'm capable in this match, not that Morgana's always got my back.
4. All that being said, why did Shane feel the need to prematurely tip the scales in his favour? I had no intention of doing anything so cowardly, yet a dude thrice my size thought it imperative to? Nice.
5. Yeah, I was pretty fucked up going into that match, and I'm lucky I didn't get a concussion - can you blame me for being out of it? I'm not glad that I won by DQ, but at least I perservered in the face of severe douchebaggery and roid rage.
...I've been trying to avoid the whole, "haw haw, yer on steroids!!" thing, because the way I see it, it's the same sort of unwarranted assumption people make about me being a whore. Fortunately for me, it's not so much an assumption anymore as it is an easily made observation about Donovan! Holy sweet shit, I haven't seen that much testosterangst in a very long time.
Note to Shane: You're supposed to get all your promos done before the actual events take place, and if you fail to say your piece in that allotted timeframe, you can wait until the next week. No one wants to have one of your asinine diatribes imposed on them during a show - it's called Eternity, after all, not "Shane Donovan: Verbal Diarrhea - Now With More Chunks!"
The worst part of it was that you'd been saving up that "bimbo Barbie fashion accessory" comment so gleefully, as if you had an arsenal of sheer gold stashed under your mattress, right beside some crusty photos of Destiny Daniels.
Seriously though, I wish I had been allowed the courtesy of a straight match, without retarded twists and stipulations. It's like people are trying to make my wins seem weak or assisted, because the last thing they want is to admit that I really am good on my own merit. I guess that's what this week is for! Ostensibly, this match was booked for Shane to get some retribution, but it's not going to pan out that way. Frankly, I don't think he really deserves any glory after his various attempts at cheating last week.
As for Nikita, I'd like to take this opportunity to thank her for wasting twenty minutes of my life explaining how very undead she is. For the record, I never thought that; I figured she threw a bitchfit about no longer being the queen shit around here and sulked away, realizing she's nothing with the likes of Morgana, me and even Destiny Daniels around.
But I guess I was wrong... she was just off not dying all this time. Good for her, though! She's here to put the angsty LiveJournal entry back in wrestling!
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