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slashthedrabble Nov. 30th, 2007 08:54 pm)
shinodabear.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Nov. 30th, 2007 08:54 pm)Everyone’s a Critic
Fandom: Angel, Season 5
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Hamilton, thanks to Spike
Disclaimer: Sometimes, I wonder what my muse is, 'cause it's not Joss.
Note: Dialogue only.
“Oh, yes, Mr. I-Look-Good-In-a-Suit, I think that is a wonderful idea! Why don’t we go upstairs to my posh suite and —”
“SPIKE!”
“You got a ticket? No ticket, no show.”
“This isn’t a show!”
“Hm. Let’s see. Puppets handcrafted by an amazing talent known as me, a stage, which yeah is nothing more than a cardboard box with a hole cut out of it and some curtains, and oh look! an audience. Where there’s an audience, there’s a performance, mate.”
“It’s a handful of interns and Harmony. They don’t count, since you probably paid or intimidated half of them. You’re spreading rumors.”
“I’m gossiping. And they have tickets.”
“About me.”
“There is a puppet with an enormous forehead.”
“And Hamilton.”
“And one in an immaculate suit.”
“Where exactly were you going with this — I use the term loosely — play?”
“Oh I think you know.”
“I do not have a thing for Hamiton!”
“You shagged Eve.”
“That was a spell!”
“Just saying. You make those eyes at him.”
“He’s evil and he annoys me. Those are the only looks I give him.”
“Tell that to the deathly bored of W & H. What they’re watchin' is givin’ them other ideas.”
“You’re going to stop this stupid game right now.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Why?”
“Hamilton told me.”
“Mmhm.”
“It’s a professional relationship.”
“Yeah? And how’d your last one turn out?”
“You’ve got five minutes. If the puppets aren't sitting in my desk drawer by then I’ll —”
“Send your boyfriend after me?”
“Shut up, Spike.”
“S’called Freedom of Expression, mate. Look it up. You’re in a bloody law firm.”
“Maybe I’ll just let Hamilton do it for me.”
“. . .”
“I just gave you fodder for another show, didn’t I?”
“Yup.”
“Five minutes, Spike.”
“All I need, mate. All I need.”
Fandom: Angel, Season 5
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Hamilton, thanks to Spike
Disclaimer: Sometimes, I wonder what my muse is, 'cause it's not Joss.
Note: Dialogue only.
“Oh, yes, Mr. I-Look-Good-In-a-Suit, I think that is a wonderful idea! Why don’t we go upstairs to my posh suite and —”
“SPIKE!”
“You got a ticket? No ticket, no show.”
“This isn’t a show!”
“Hm. Let’s see. Puppets handcrafted by an amazing talent known as me, a stage, which yeah is nothing more than a cardboard box with a hole cut out of it and some curtains, and oh look! an audience. Where there’s an audience, there’s a performance, mate.”
“It’s a handful of interns and Harmony. They don’t count, since you probably paid or intimidated half of them. You’re spreading rumors.”
“I’m gossiping. And they have tickets.”
“About me.”
“There is a puppet with an enormous forehead.”
“And Hamilton.”
“And one in an immaculate suit.”
“Where exactly were you going with this — I use the term loosely — play?”
“Oh I think you know.”
“I do not have a thing for Hamiton!”
“You shagged Eve.”
“That was a spell!”
“Just saying. You make those eyes at him.”
“He’s evil and he annoys me. Those are the only looks I give him.”
“Tell that to the deathly bored of W & H. What they’re watchin' is givin’ them other ideas.”
“You’re going to stop this stupid game right now.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Why?”
“Hamilton told me.”
“Mmhm.”
“It’s a professional relationship.”
“Yeah? And how’d your last one turn out?”
“You’ve got five minutes. If the puppets aren't sitting in my desk drawer by then I’ll —”
“Send your boyfriend after me?”
“Shut up, Spike.”
“S’called Freedom of Expression, mate. Look it up. You’re in a bloody law firm.”
“Maybe I’ll just let Hamilton do it for me.”
“. . .”
“I just gave you fodder for another show, didn’t I?”
“Yup.”
“Five minutes, Spike.”
“All I need, mate. All I need.”
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