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magic_fratboy “I just can’t keep doing this anymore!!”
Tommy blanched reflexively at the sound of Channing’s voice ringing out sharply through The Rapture’s production offices, which still weren’t much more than a back dressing room lined with folding tables and crammed with people. Reflective of his apprehension as he lifted his gaze, his bare toes dug into the dark berber carpeting one last time before wistfully inching forward and into his office sandals as he got to his feet.
“Something wrong, Chan?” he asked, wincing a little as he heard stage manager Paul Fillmore hiss softly beside him. Yeah, that sounded as small and strangled as he thought…she could smell blood on the wind. Crap.
She didn’t even hesitate as she stormed across the room right in his direction, confirming that he was the one she was pissed at as she shook a fistful of paperwork at him. “I am not going to stand for this one more minute! If I place an order with a supplier again and find out that you cancelled it, so help me, I’m going to fire you myself!”
Startled by her venom, Tommy blinked as one foot slid out of his sandal, big toe idly scratching at his Achilles’ Tendon. “Wait a sec…is this about the saffron stage dressing for the Samurai routine?”
“What else would it be about?!”
Relief flooded him as he breathed a deep sigh and absently stepped out of his sandals, moving forward to stare down at her.
“Bite me.”
“I…beg your pardon?!?”
“You heard me, Chan: bite me. ‘I hired you for your eye, don’t let me screw up no matter how big a bitch I am.’ Your words, not mine.” He informed her calmly, tapping the invoices still wadded in her fist. “I told ya three fuckin’ times, there’s too goddamn much yellow up there. I’m changing the order back to red, and you’re gonna freakin’ look at it before you send it back, alright? You want a more violent look up there? You’re gonna have to add a little variety up there. Mix it up, clash a little. Take it or leave it.”
His toes digging into the carpet again were his only sign of nerves as she gaped at him. Calmly, he reached up and pulled his hair back from his face with an elastic from around his wrist while his feet held on to Planet Earth for dear life in preparation for a blow he was and wasn’t sure would come.
Finally, she shook the invoices in his face, spitting furiously. “If it looks bad, I’m taking the shipping costs out of your paycheck.”
“And deprive my daughter of some new toy? Please.” He called out as she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
She managed to flip him off before vanishing from sight.
No one in the room said a word for a long moment…then just as suddenly, everyone broke into applause.
“Give it up for Mr. Karras! Only his third day in the office, and he’s already standing up to the Wicked Bitch of the East!”
Blushing, Tommy stepped back, his feet finding refuge in his sandals once again as he ducked his head with a smile and shuffled meekly back to his seat.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 550
Tommy blanched reflexively at the sound of Channing’s voice ringing out sharply through The Rapture’s production offices, which still weren’t much more than a back dressing room lined with folding tables and crammed with people. Reflective of his apprehension as he lifted his gaze, his bare toes dug into the dark berber carpeting one last time before wistfully inching forward and into his office sandals as he got to his feet.
“Something wrong, Chan?” he asked, wincing a little as he heard stage manager Paul Fillmore hiss softly beside him. Yeah, that sounded as small and strangled as he thought…she could smell blood on the wind. Crap.
She didn’t even hesitate as she stormed across the room right in his direction, confirming that he was the one she was pissed at as she shook a fistful of paperwork at him. “I am not going to stand for this one more minute! If I place an order with a supplier again and find out that you cancelled it, so help me, I’m going to fire you myself!”
Startled by her venom, Tommy blinked as one foot slid out of his sandal, big toe idly scratching at his Achilles’ Tendon. “Wait a sec…is this about the saffron stage dressing for the Samurai routine?”
“What else would it be about?!”
Relief flooded him as he breathed a deep sigh and absently stepped out of his sandals, moving forward to stare down at her.
“Bite me.”
“I…beg your pardon?!?”
“You heard me, Chan: bite me. ‘I hired you for your eye, don’t let me screw up no matter how big a bitch I am.’ Your words, not mine.” He informed her calmly, tapping the invoices still wadded in her fist. “I told ya three fuckin’ times, there’s too goddamn much yellow up there. I’m changing the order back to red, and you’re gonna freakin’ look at it before you send it back, alright? You want a more violent look up there? You’re gonna have to add a little variety up there. Mix it up, clash a little. Take it or leave it.”
His toes digging into the carpet again were his only sign of nerves as she gaped at him. Calmly, he reached up and pulled his hair back from his face with an elastic from around his wrist while his feet held on to Planet Earth for dear life in preparation for a blow he was and wasn’t sure would come.
Finally, she shook the invoices in his face, spitting furiously. “If it looks bad, I’m taking the shipping costs out of your paycheck.”
“And deprive my daughter of some new toy? Please.” He called out as she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
She managed to flip him off before vanishing from sight.
No one in the room said a word for a long moment…then just as suddenly, everyone broke into applause.
“Give it up for Mr. Karras! Only his third day in the office, and he’s already standing up to the Wicked Bitch of the East!”
Blushing, Tommy stepped back, his feet finding refuge in his sandals once again as he ducked his head with a smile and shuffled meekly back to his seat.
Muse: Tommy Karras
Fandom: Original Character
Words: 550
