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Wilford considered sticking around to finish his email task, but by the time he returned back to the fireplace to retrieve his breakfast, he was done with this place. He was done with everything. He just needed to go somewhere quiet where nobody would bother him for a while.
Unfortunately, it was nine o’clock in the morning, which made finding somewhere to be left alone a difficult task. Not an impossible one, but difficult. He could go home – it was Sunday, so there wasn’t too much work to actually be done at the studio. But he’d been skiving off a lot lately. One more time, they’d come look for him.
They’d probably even send Kevin, to be especially terrible.
Wilford did not go home, as much as he wanted to. The door took him right back to his dressing room, and that’s where he stayed. He put the coffee and hotteok on his desk, turned off the lights, and dropped himself onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to get any sleep, because he never did. But it didn’t hurt to try.
Wilford didn’t know how long he’d been trying to take a nap when Billy barged in on him. From where he lay on the sofa, Wilford had a good view of the back of Billy’s head as he realised he’d just barged into a dark and seemingly empty room. Wilford had a moment of hope that he might go away, but it was a hope that was quickly dashed. Billy had grown wise to this trick, and stepped further inside to peer around the other side of the door to the third of the room that was obscured by it. But at least it was Billy, who wasn’t completely ignorant to everything around him.
“I’ll come back,” he said, already stepping out.
“No, get it over with,” Wilford grumbled. He wasn’t going to get any sleep anyway, and he knew what Billy had hunted him down for.
Billy stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He had a thick stack of folders and files in his hands, which was promising. Even if Wilford didn’t want to deal with them now. Billy dropped the stack off at Wilford’s desk, trading them for one of the hotteok.
“Where’s your shirt?” he asked as he leaned against the desk.
Wilford debated sitting up, but found he didn’t have the energy for it.
“Some shit-for-brains doctor threw a bowl of soup at me,” Wilford said.
Billy nearly choked. Wilford sort of wished he had.
“Is he still alive?” Billy asked.
Wilford managed to sit up and pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes. They still sat on his face funny, since he never actually bothered to reset after his brawl at the track, and were probably the source of the headache that was currently threatening to bloom between his eyes. He didn’t want to do any of this. He didn’t want to be at the studio, playing the role of the responsible person in charge. He didn’t care about any of the stories anyone was working on. He didn’t care about Milliways or Guppy or anyone.
But he’d be damned if he handed any of that over to someone else. Billy could take care of it. Christine could take care of it. But Wilford didn’t want them to. He snapped his fingers and held out his hand, waiting for Billy to get over with what he came in here to do in the first place.
“Kevin’s still salty about his assignment,” Billy chuckled as he handed over the stack of papers and folders and everything else.
“Good,” he said.
He insisted on physical copies of everything. Digital notes were too easily lost or overwritten. They were also easier on his eyes.
Wilford flipped through everything to find Kevin’s stack, finding himself most curious about the Bigfoot story despite its origins as little more than a cruel form of punishment. Kevin’s notes were little more than a string of curses aimed at Wilford, with occasional references to video files. Taped to the inside of the folder was an SD card, which was enough to prompt Wilford to get up and head to his desk. He slotted the card into the external reader next to his monitor, and found more than a dozen video files on it. It only took a few seconds for Wilford to realise their contents would be largely similar to Kevin’s notes.
”Stupid cocksucker. What the hell did I ever do to him,” Kevin complained loudly somewhere off frame. The video was shaky and stuttery, catching occasional glimpses of thick underbrush and heavy brambles tangled around someone’s feet.
“You’re a fucking pain in the ass. That’s what you did,” Wilford said as he closed out of the media player.
On the other side of the desk, Billy laughed and shook his head. “You’re not even going to give him a hint about what happened?”
Wilford ejected the SD card and taped it back to the inside of the folder. “A hint’s all he needs to get annoying again,” he said.
“Again? I thought he was always annoying.”
He was always annoying, but Kevin still managed to find ways to become more annoying. Shaking his head and refusing to reiterate this fact, Wilford handed the file back over to Billy and picked up the next one from the stack. It was Mandy’s assignment, and therefore an example of proper journalism – even if his story was still in its infancy with almost no research to show for yet. This story would probably never even make it to air, but Wilford was curious enough about it to see what could be dug up.
“You should bring that guy back. Mandy would love to interview him,” Billy said.
“They’d probably kill each other,” Wilford said. “I’d make you hide the body.”
“Why?” Billy demanded.
“Because it’s your stupid idea.”
And it was a stupid idea. Jim had a way of bringing out the worst in people, and Wilford wasn’t going to let him near any of his staff ever again. Resetting over stupid, high school gossip was such a petty waste, and Wilford wasn’t going to go get shot every time just to give himself the excuse. (Though, whether he meant to or not, Jim did do him a favour with that one.)
Wilford flipped through the sparse notes to make sure he wasn’t missing anything before passing off that folder as well. “Don’t bother me with this one until he makes a break,” he said.
Nodding, Billy opened the folder to look over the notes as well. “Man, I’m so jealous. How come you find all the fun stuff?” he asked.
“Because I’m just a fun kind of guy,” Wilford said flatly as he started checking the next folder. He ignored the way Billy didn’t even try to not laugh.
“Fun like a heart attack,” Billy said under his breath.
Wilford shook his head and ignored that too.
Unfortunately, it was nine o’clock in the morning, which made finding somewhere to be left alone a difficult task. Not an impossible one, but difficult. He could go home – it was Sunday, so there wasn’t too much work to actually be done at the studio. But he’d been skiving off a lot lately. One more time, they’d come look for him.
They’d probably even send Kevin, to be especially terrible.
Wilford did not go home, as much as he wanted to. The door took him right back to his dressing room, and that’s where he stayed. He put the coffee and hotteok on his desk, turned off the lights, and dropped himself onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to get any sleep, because he never did. But it didn’t hurt to try.
Wilford didn’t know how long he’d been trying to take a nap when Billy barged in on him. From where he lay on the sofa, Wilford had a good view of the back of Billy’s head as he realised he’d just barged into a dark and seemingly empty room. Wilford had a moment of hope that he might go away, but it was a hope that was quickly dashed. Billy had grown wise to this trick, and stepped further inside to peer around the other side of the door to the third of the room that was obscured by it. But at least it was Billy, who wasn’t completely ignorant to everything around him.
“I’ll come back,” he said, already stepping out.
“No, get it over with,” Wilford grumbled. He wasn’t going to get any sleep anyway, and he knew what Billy had hunted him down for.
Billy stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him. He had a thick stack of folders and files in his hands, which was promising. Even if Wilford didn’t want to deal with them now. Billy dropped the stack off at Wilford’s desk, trading them for one of the hotteok.
“Where’s your shirt?” he asked as he leaned against the desk.
Wilford debated sitting up, but found he didn’t have the energy for it.
“Some shit-for-brains doctor threw a bowl of soup at me,” Wilford said.
Billy nearly choked. Wilford sort of wished he had.
“Is he still alive?” Billy asked.
Wilford managed to sit up and pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes. They still sat on his face funny, since he never actually bothered to reset after his brawl at the track, and were probably the source of the headache that was currently threatening to bloom between his eyes. He didn’t want to do any of this. He didn’t want to be at the studio, playing the role of the responsible person in charge. He didn’t care about any of the stories anyone was working on. He didn’t care about Milliways or Guppy or anyone.
But he’d be damned if he handed any of that over to someone else. Billy could take care of it. Christine could take care of it. But Wilford didn’t want them to. He snapped his fingers and held out his hand, waiting for Billy to get over with what he came in here to do in the first place.
“Kevin’s still salty about his assignment,” Billy chuckled as he handed over the stack of papers and folders and everything else.
“Good,” he said.
He insisted on physical copies of everything. Digital notes were too easily lost or overwritten. They were also easier on his eyes.
Wilford flipped through everything to find Kevin’s stack, finding himself most curious about the Bigfoot story despite its origins as little more than a cruel form of punishment. Kevin’s notes were little more than a string of curses aimed at Wilford, with occasional references to video files. Taped to the inside of the folder was an SD card, which was enough to prompt Wilford to get up and head to his desk. He slotted the card into the external reader next to his monitor, and found more than a dozen video files on it. It only took a few seconds for Wilford to realise their contents would be largely similar to Kevin’s notes.
”Stupid cocksucker. What the hell did I ever do to him,” Kevin complained loudly somewhere off frame. The video was shaky and stuttery, catching occasional glimpses of thick underbrush and heavy brambles tangled around someone’s feet.
“You’re a fucking pain in the ass. That’s what you did,” Wilford said as he closed out of the media player.
On the other side of the desk, Billy laughed and shook his head. “You’re not even going to give him a hint about what happened?”
Wilford ejected the SD card and taped it back to the inside of the folder. “A hint’s all he needs to get annoying again,” he said.
“Again? I thought he was always annoying.”
He was always annoying, but Kevin still managed to find ways to become more annoying. Shaking his head and refusing to reiterate this fact, Wilford handed the file back over to Billy and picked up the next one from the stack. It was Mandy’s assignment, and therefore an example of proper journalism – even if his story was still in its infancy with almost no research to show for yet. This story would probably never even make it to air, but Wilford was curious enough about it to see what could be dug up.
“You should bring that guy back. Mandy would love to interview him,” Billy said.
“They’d probably kill each other,” Wilford said. “I’d make you hide the body.”
“Why?” Billy demanded.
“Because it’s your stupid idea.”
And it was a stupid idea. Jim had a way of bringing out the worst in people, and Wilford wasn’t going to let him near any of his staff ever again. Resetting over stupid, high school gossip was such a petty waste, and Wilford wasn’t going to go get shot every time just to give himself the excuse. (Though, whether he meant to or not, Jim did do him a favour with that one.)
Wilford flipped through the sparse notes to make sure he wasn’t missing anything before passing off that folder as well. “Don’t bother me with this one until he makes a break,” he said.
Nodding, Billy opened the folder to look over the notes as well. “Man, I’m so jealous. How come you find all the fun stuff?” he asked.
“Because I’m just a fun kind of guy,” Wilford said flatly as he started checking the next folder. He ignored the way Billy didn’t even try to not laugh.
“Fun like a heart attack,” Billy said under his breath.
Wilford shook his head and ignored that too.
