Scenario Entitled: A Toast To The Telly!Characters:
Walter
Roberta
Location: The Coeur De Lion
Date: It is Tiew's Day, Joon 30th, 109 PA
Standing on the edge of a cluster of well wishers, Walter nods and smiles at set intervals, sipping his glass of champagne in between listening to repetitions of: 'What's a snob do in a hair-dressers studio? Brushes people off, of course!' The man standing before him guffaws loudly and pulls a passerby around to tell the joke again. Walter's suit is black, purely conservative compared to a few of the other party-goers in here. A gold colored banner hangs over one wall reading, 'Congratulations, Winners!', another over the stage reads: 'Tolkeen Annual Television Awards, Fifty years of entertainment!' A stage has been set up against one glass wall of the restaurant, looking out over the city of Tolkeen at night, the glow of leylines silhouetting the buildings outside.
Birds of a feather flock together, right? Because who else would put up with them? That's probably why there are more than a couple Town Crier staff mingling around the fair-sized congregation of Channel One employees as Significant Others. The live music is toned down enough so that guests can hear themselves speak.. always a priority in celebrity-dom. Is that Benjamin Colbalt rubbing shoulders with bratty Courtnei Adams of 'I Can't Believe It's Not Reconstituted' commercial fame? He's holding a meatball on a little plastic sword, so you can bet Ms. Adams is behaving at the moment.
Roberta came in with someone surely, some pencil-necked gaff perhaps, but she's alone now, stalking through the clustered populace with a bright gaze flickering side to side at all the intriguing personalities present. Her party outfit is about as flamboyant as her casual wear is. Something of a cross between a tuxedo and a halloween bird costume might be the best way to describe it. Sheer black material makes up the jacket and smart pants of the suit, a frosted blue blouse with flaring lapels underneath. Low-heeled black dress boots keeps her height under control, and spider-webbed nylon gloves glitter like the real thing under morning dew. From her crown of curling black hair, several long raven feathers wave outwards with each turn of her head, and from the jade hoops at the tips of her ears dangle a trio of orange hawk breast feathers. Almost dragging behind her, attached to the flowing tails of her suit jacket, are five large, dusty violet-gray tailfeathers of a Steppe Ostriche, furling softly in her wake. She is not a particularly beauteous specimen, being shaped of angles and lines rather than curves, but she is definitely someone interesting to look at. Then there's the bright aggression that fairly radiates off of her. Brushing past a couple of curious news wives, she draws near the stage to view the statuettes lined up there.
At yet another repetition of that stupid joke, Walter excuses himself and wanders over towards a cluster of be-robed sponsors from Lazlo, clumped together like a gaggle of geese. The foreign guests seem aloof, distant somehow, as if they don't exactly understand the purpose of this party. Perhaps it's just cultural differences, or perhaps it's something else; disgust, jealousy? No. That one over there seems more than friendly enough for the whole collection, and the legal advisor over there is equally chatty. Walter decides to make his way over to that particular female, introducing himself with a bow, and a more Tolkeen-ish expression, a handshake. "Hi there, I'm Walter Reily of Channel One News..." he begins.
Roberta passes them with a slow glance from her dark eyes. She takes in the details of each delegate's face, her lips moving at a decibel lower than the current noise of the soiree. Extending from the black band around her throat, the delicate microphone wire is overlooked half the time in the riot of her other strangenesses. Her kohl-lined eyes rest on Walter... his news piece on last year's Teepowka Rampage received an award in the Live Reporting category, didn't it? She speaks further to herself, not caring if she appears a bit disturbed to the other guests. She stops several feet from the stage and makes choice commentary to herself about the looks of the awards.
The female legal advisor bows in response and chimes, "Ah, yes. I heard so much about you from my brother; do you remember him?" Walter's blank look at this question remains on his face until recognition hits him. "You're, oh now I've forgotten his name, Tanner Clive's sister? Does he still," He pauses for a moment as a tray of cheeses passes by him, carried by a waiter. He helps himself to a piece, "have that bent nose from the time he got drunk and decided to hit on someone's wife?" The woman nods, "Oh yes. He still tells me about his days at the university here, is it true you and he 'kidnapped' the professor's daughter at her request, just because she was angry at him for giving Clive low marks?" She raises her eyebrow's suspiciously.
"..and in this writer's opinion they'll make ideal bludgeoning instruments in the event of another ratings scramble like the one we've seen this year.." Roberta turns away from the stage and intercepts a caterer with a tray of filled wineglasses. Lifting away a slim goblet of white, she crosses one arm over her ribs while sipping from the glass, wetting her black-glossed lips. Parked beside a barrel-chested, pompous ass (though not Walter's joke-telling friend), she tolerates his incessant blather about the points sweep for Woden's Day evening eight o'clock slot, while training her gaze directly on Walter with a determined channeling that could rival the attention span of a black-winged monitor bird of Port Hope.
Ah, boyhood pranks. Walter blinks and laughs quietly at the woman's version of events. "Oh, now that was just totally untrue. She was angry at her father because he gave me," he thumps his chest, "low marks. Clive just came along because he was bored_Clive never got low marks. Hey, is Clive going to come down one of these years? I'd sure love to see him after all these years." He looks up suddenly as Benjamin Colbalt motions him over from across the room, and he turns back to the legal advisor once more. "Hey, listen_" Oh yes, here comes the part where he asks where she is staying. "Get in touch with me, and I'll show you around, my boss is motioning me over. I'll talk to you later." With that he walks over towards the station manager, and passes near Roberta.
Roberta smiles openly at Walter as he approaches, and makes no effort to alter her remarks as they tumble out for the benefit of her microphone and anyone else in earshot. "..and with another display of what has been termed as 'inexplicable charm', the man of a hundred voices and about that many hands, or so the ladies tell me, strikes again.." She pauses to pay some attention to her wine glass, toasting Walter before she takes a small sip.
Of course, Walter just has to take that comment at face value and swallow whatever pride he might have. Maybe he didn't hear it with all the noise in the restaurant tonight. Raising his glass as he passes by the feather bedecked Roberta. He stops momentarily and takes a sip of his glass, which seems to be the same one he started the party with tonight, now only half full. After the sip and required glass raising, Walter approaches the Town Crier reporter with a neutral expression, "I don't believe we've met officially," he extends his hand to the pale-skinned Roberta, "I'm Walter Reily. You work for the Crier, correct?"
Roberta disengages her free hand from under her wine-bearing arm, and reaches forward to clasp Walter's hand in an cool but agreeable grip. "Yes," she nods, "Gheist. Roberta Gheist. I don't expect yet to share elbow space with Tolkeen's star reporters, Reily. I've only just arrived, after all." She releases his hand and leans closer to add, "But I've done all my homework, so I hope in time that I'll have a spot in the first two rows at the official press conferences... although I've noticed that it does turn into more of a stampede than a conference," a glimmer of concern creases her brow during this conversational sidetrack. "Does that happen very often, Reily?"
With a chortle, Walter responds, "Oh, but that's half the fun, isn't it? You don't win your place at the table by being at the rear of the stampede, do you? Although lately it seems to have gotten worse than normal these last few weeks. Just remember that your elbows are your friends, and the louder you yell the more questions you'll get answered." He absently rubs a spot on his side and adds quickly as his boos looks more and more impatiently over towards the detoured Walter, "Anyway, I hope you enjoy your position at the Crier, and don't worry about not getting up to the front." He glances over at the boss's direction, who seems to be covering up his agitation by chewing on yet another meatball. "It's been good meeting you, Miss Gheist. Get in touch with me if you ever need anything, okay?" He shoves off into the crowd to flirt with the boss's acquaintances as the lights dim and the band plays slightly louder.
Roberta grins disdainfully at the chaos-favoring advice from Walter. "No doubt!" she calls after him in her clear, hard, alto voice. Then she laughs to herself frivolously, and takes another drink, before moving off into the crowd before it disperses from the dancing area.
An MC walks up to the small podium on the stage and waves the small smatterings of applause throughout the gathering down so he can talk. He taps the microphone in front of him, which returns a satisfying pop amplified over the speakers throughout the room. He begins, "Well, it's been an exciting year in television, this season, hasn't it? Of course, it's always exciting in television, or else you fine people wouldn't watch it, am I right?" He grins stupidly as the crowd laughs, more at his appearance on stage, a funny little wizened man, one of the very first television actors in Tolkeen. It doesn't really count that he just read what was handed to him, but still, the very fact that he's here speaks wonders for the memories of the television executives.
Roberta smiles thinly at the MC from her position near the front of those assembled. Already started taking Walter's advice, maybe? She's discarded her wineglass meantime, and claps when there is applause, and laughs at the appropriate points as well. One of the bold executives from the board of censors brushes against her as he smiles grimly through the dirty looks shot at him, and is rather pleased to receive from her a friendly grin. Soon, they are talking quietly through the speech, while pretending they're actually interested in the has-been up stage.
The MC continues, "Well, as you know, a lot's changed in Television since I worked there, and most of it's been wonderful. The de-regulation of stations thirty years ago..." Walter listens idly as his neighbor in the crowd whispers something in his ear. He snickers slightly and then claps the man next to him on the back. The MC continues his description of the past years of Television, "... All the way up to such wonderful shows today as.." As the MC finishes his homage, he leans over and grasps a white envelope handed to him from off the stage. "And now, here's the time I know you've all been waiting for," Applause interrupts his speech for a moment, or perhaps he is just pausing theatrically, "The awards!" He flares his hands into the air like some sort of stage magician, pulling a carrot instead of a rabbit out of a top hat.
The dark-suited man beside Roberta folds his hands behind his back and rocks on his heels.. he'll get no awards, but he's still smug in the knowledge that to some small extent, he and his colleagues have had a hand in dictating the course of the broadcasting year, and thus the awards ceremony itself. Roberta gazes sidelong at him with a wide smile, as if she believed he deserved a medal of bravery for just showing up. Meanwhile, she makes sure to lean close whenever he makes an offhand comment about one producer/director/manager/actor or another, unaware yet of his folly in doing so.
Politely waiting for the MC to wind down through the awards list until he gets to: 'Best News Anchor', Walter shifts from one foot to the next and only half listens as the awards are handed out. "... And for Best Special effects in a Television Drama Series, 'Dark Soldiers'!" The cast of the show steps up to accept the crystal award shaped like an un-broken version of the Tower of Tolkeen. "_Thank you guys, enjoy your award! ... ... Now, for 'Best Evening News Series', Channel One Action News! Come on up and take a bow!" The MC waves the Channel One News Staff up to the stage, Walter and Jhartha both place their hands on the award and smile as their photograph is taken.
Roberta eyes Walter, and then Jhartha, intently while she keeps her large-size smile intact. Her gaze flickers occasionally over to Ben Colbalt standing off to the side, looking his behind-the-scenes high-energy best. Finally, she drops her gaze to study the foot of the stage through the rest of the announcements, and does not respond even to her censor-friend's scathing comments about Jhartha.
What a crock of something disgusting! The next award went to that bastard, Cruchzeck! Oh well, at least the 'Best Live News Coverage' award was given to Walter. It is disappointing to miss the: 'Best News Anchor' award for the first time in five years... Well, there's always next year. As the awards ceremony winds down, Walter begins to make his strategic retreat, carefully hiding his yawn as the ceremony continues on into the wee hours of the morning. As the MC finally wraps it up with the: 'Best Director in a Television Movie' award, he makes his way for the exits, chit chatting some more with a few of the Channel One sponsors before disappearing down to his apartment on the lower levels.
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