(no subject)

[cottoncandypink]

Last week, Wilford got some confirmation on something he's been suspecting for a while. He wasn't even a little bit surprised to hear it, but now that it's there, he has to either face it, or find a new way to ignore it. Like the champ he is, he's going to continue to ignore it.

Today, he comes into the bar with his new puppy. She's wearing one of his old t-shirts, and drooling significantly more than usual. Stoned out of her mind is probably an appropriate description for this dog. But at least between that and the t-shirt, she doesn't seem to have even noticed the stitches in her belly. Which is good, because that's the last thing Wilford needs right now.

He takes Bailey over to the fireplace and lets her lounge on the sofa next to him. Between them, they take up the entire thing. Which is probably a nice change of pace from Wilford taking up the entire sofa by himself. While his dog soaks the sofa in drool, Wilford orders a drink and pulls his laptop out of his inventory. He's got one hell of a script to write if he wants to come back with a bang.

Comments

[holdingacat]

Cecil, flush with the knowledge that he can get books without risking a librarian encounter, drops the largest dictionary he could convince Bar to give him on short notice on the side table next to Wilford.

It makes a satisfying bang.

"I have a message for your producer." The ruffled radio host announces, the growling undertones in his voice dragging it to the lower edges of its range. "But first... Whooooo's a good girl! You are! Oh lookit your face!" Aaaand then it swings up again, buoyed by the proximity to an adorable canine as Cecil crouches near the puppy's head.

Priorities.

[cottoncandypink]

Oh. Interesting. Nichola doesn't usually go out of her way to piss people off. She's all talented like that, so this should be good.

And then Wilford's completely sidetracked by Cecil's sudden outburst. "She's high. You're not going to get much out of her."

Bailey seems to recognise that she's being talked to, judging by the tiniest little wag of her tail, but she's otherwise on Jupiter right now. Wilford only brought her here because it seemed like a bad idea to leave her alone right now.

[holdingacat]

"Ah. And here I was afraid I was losing my touch." He offers a bit of an ear-scritch anyway, because she is a very good dog, and deserves scritches.

[cottoncandypink]

Her tail gives a few more taps on the sofa. And then she falls asleep. Wilford leans over to make sure she's still breathing. "Damn, they really did a number on you," he says.

What a ridiculous creature.

[holdingacat]

Awwww, she's even cute while asleep. Cecil admires her for a few moments more, then remembers why it is he hauled that dictionary over here to begin with.

"Your producer is indulging in inaccurate journalism, and it is shameful." Whoop, the growl is back.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford looks up at Cecil, and blinks.

"Okay."

Look how much he cares!

[holdingacat]

... That's just about as helpful as telling a riled person to calm down. His 'angry bluebird' impression intensifies.

"It is our job as journalistic professionals to report the truth! How else in a world so chaotic and and wild can anyone make sense of it if journalists are lying to the public? To their own peers?" He demands, fiercely, his arms crossed over his chest.

[cottoncandypink]

Usually, Wilford is perfectly content to let Nichola fight her own battles, but she's not here to do that. And nobody insults his woman to his face like this.

"Hey, it's her job to find the money and make sure the show runs. She doesn't write the scripts. I do."

Nichola's honour properly defended, Wilford goes back to blatantly meddling in an election.

[holdingacat]

Cecil sees red, he really does (along with a few other colors, but they aren't important right now). With speed honed by scout training, he snatches away the laptop and dances back out of reach.

"You're the one who taught that girl to disregard basic journalistic ethics?" Cecil grumbles, outraged, as he tries to make heads or tails of the story on the screen in front of him.

[cottoncandypink]

The story on the screen in front of him is a disaster. Wilford's pretty proud of it. Ratings are going to soar after this one.

"No, we interned at the same place together."

He's pretty pissed off about his laptop being stolen, but he's working on this whole 'self-control' thing lately. Mostly because his face is still trying to heal and he doesn't want to get it punched again.

She'd enjoy being called a girl, though. She probably doesn't hear that very much these days.

[holdingacat]

"Ugh, next you'll be telling me you two interned at Desert Bluffs." The scorn is laid so thick at the name it's a wonder the words don't go crawling off to find some place to die.

They might, actually. Has anyone seen them recently?

"What is this, even?"

[cottoncandypink]

"Ugh. No. Where's that?"

Gross. He hates the desert.

"Midterms, man. I'm trying to shake things up."

By ousting a potential frontrunner as having a weird doll hobby. But come on, everybody knows dolls are pure evil.

He holds out his hand, clearly expecting Cecil to give him back his laptop.

[holdingacat]

Wilford gets points for instinctively hating Desert Bluffs.

Well, one point.

...

Half a point. He's up to half a point.

Desert Bluffs is easy to hate.

"Dolls? Really? This is what you choose to dedicate your talents to? Ugh." Cecil retreats another step, with the laptop, his lip curling as his reads.

[ostro_goth]

"You cannot possibly mean to take on another dog."

That is Teja, staring at the puppy with utter disbelief.

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford looks up at Teja. There's a puppy drooling on his pants, and he's not doing anything about it.

Obviously, taking on another dog is exactly what he intends to do.

[ostro_goth]

"You do realise you already have one that is an utter disaster, and you are not fit to take care of dogs?"

[cottoncandypink]

"Excuse the fuck out of you."

Where in the hell did that come from? Buster is an utter disaster, sure, but that's not Wilford's fault.

[ostro_goth]

"There is no rule against the ill-treatment of animals here," Teja muses. "Maybe that must be changed."

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford looks down at Bailey, who's stoned out of her mind, but otherwise shows no signs of ill-treatment.

"Where the fuck do you get off?"

He'd get up, but there's a sleeping puppy to navigate around.

[ostro_goth]

"I do not," Teja says gruffly. "Something is wrong with this one, also."

[cottoncandypink]

Wilford glares at Teja. He knows what's going on, and isn't going to play this game.

"She just had surgery, dipshit. Maybe I should cut you open and pull your guts out and see how you feel."

[ostro_goth]

"Why did you do that to her?"

[cottoncandypink]

Is this guy stupid?

"If nobody's talked to you about the birds and the bees yet, I'm not going to be the one to do it."

He puts a protective hand on his dog and goes back to trying to write his script with the other hand. It's not as easy to type one-handed, but he's going to power through as long as he needs to.

[ostro_goth]

"She is but a pup, far too young to bear a litter," Teja says.

[cottoncandypink]

"Go read a book," Wilford says tiredly.

He's not a vet. He's just doing what the vet told him to do.