Author's Note: So, whaddya think? I'm going to switch POV's from now on,
whenever I feel like it, and if I get on a really big sugar high I'll write
from the stapler's view of things. I hope it doesn't come to that... so go
read now!
~~~~~
The office was small, crowded, and more of those pale walls that threatened to make Miranda go blind. Not that she was an overly neat or creative person, but even she knew that this was terrible. It needs some black, maybe a curtain or something, and a plant that can... well, sit there in the corner until I forget to water it. Nice, home touches, she thought casually, and then froze. That was exactly what she didn't want, any more reminders in her life that would make her mind go falling back. Did that enough anyway.
She threw her bag onto the desk and walked around it, taking in every inch of the room. Her new space, where she would work and survive in solitude, planning the future of another person. A future that involved his involvement in brutal- completely fake- matches against other equally steroid-induced muscle men. Almost smiling, she went to the only window and opened it. She was almost excited, anxious, never nervous of course, to meet the people who made this company so well known. Grandparents talked about watching wrestling in old arenas, and elementary students ran around telling people to smell what they were cooking. What an odd bunch of people indeed.
One of them was, for certain, a unique person. Kurt Angle had already managed to make her think he was on steroids, spineless, and almost normal, all within a ten minute meeting. What he'd be like in a normal situation, day to day life, she didn't know. What sane person would want to become that involved in their work? It was just that, work. She'd be damned if she even made friends with him, unless he turned out to be likeable, because friendship was nothing in the world of business. Absolutely nothing, and that's what she was good at.
She sighed and fell into the seat, crossing her legs at the ankle and pushing hair behind her ear with one hand. Might as well get more acquainted with my client. Sliding the clasp of her carrying case open and pulling out the desired folder, Miranda opened to the first page. A standard picture, boring but showing startling blue eyes, and a simple profile. Rolling her eyes, and turned to the next sheet. Statistics didn't mean anything, if she wanted to know Kurt's height then she'd stand next to him and guess. Which she'd already done, just for her own curiosity.
She'd forced herself to sit down and watch that past Thursday's show. Never being a soap opera fan, she practically had to tie herself to the seat. They had a pattern on Smackdown, that was for sure. Talk for a while, which made no sense to her because she'd never seen a show and didn't know the storylines, and then fight. After that, the loser would get mad and, most often, a rematch or some other match against the winner and his friends was made. What kept people coming back? Soon, Miranda would have a chance to find out for herself.
Having control over Kurt Angle's contract and wrestling matches meant one thing: she knew what was going to happen. Maybe that would help her understand, having that inside view couldn't possibly hurt. The next section of his folder certainly helped that, in a way any woman would understand. There were pictures of his various gimmicks, past events, and every fan favorite finishing move. Speaking of hurt, these looked to be as harmless as mouse. One in particular caught her eye, Kurt and an black- suited opponent in the ring.
Kurt was holding his ankle and turning the foot somewhat, holding his opponent's body off the mat and twisting his features like he was putting superhuman strength into this... twisted ankle. The other man's expression was even worse, like he was going through childbirth, getting teeth pulled, and paying child support at the same time. It looked almost pathetic, this was the kind of thing that sold as a big-time wrestling move?
Focusing in on Kurt and sliding down in her chair, she shook her head slowly. Maybe this wasn't going to be the boring repetition day job she had thought it would be. He looked good in tights, definitely a perk, and the inner workings of the business had to be interesting. How could one man rule this many people and so many fans? Subliminal messages, she thought dryly. There had to be something going on.
From what she had been told, Mr. McMahon's company had been going through a lot of changes lately. An on-show split into two shows with different sets of performers, giving the coveted Monday night Raw slot to an eccentric Ric Flair, and a lawsuit with ithe other/i WWF, resulting in a name change. She was in WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, and about to--
"Miss Irving? Sorry to bother you, but your presence is needed at a meeting."
She nodded and stood up, finally some action to be in. Grabbing her case and slinging it over her arm, she walked over to the- she thought- secretary. "Just show me where to go," she said quickly. Let the action begin.
~~~~~
He hated this. Not the performing, no, that was what he had been born to do. These, the meetings beforehand that planned out his future, were tedious. Why am I even here? It's not like Vince needs my opinion- or really wants it- when he makes these matches. Just get the story writer's idea, make sure it's catchy enough, and then make the plans with Alan... wait, make them with the new manager.
Kurt raised his eyebrow when she chose that moment to walk in, things happening like that too often would be unnerving. His new manager looked very business oriented, good too, and he'd never seem a woman who went to those lengths to intimidate the opposite sex. It was a nice change from the people in WWE, so much different from the flirty secretary who only noticed men from the neck down, and the certain divas who wanted to put out for anyone.
He knew one thing already, Miranda Irving was no petty diva. Slightly goth though, he could picture her easily as a teenager with black nails and lipstick, and now she seemed to carry on that tradition. Black skirt- long, thank god she wasn't another one of "those female employees"- and a black jacket to cover her arms. Add the dark brown hair, and she looked... dangerous. Even her eyes seemed so hidden, so deep that he couldn't tell their colour. Dark brown, he guessed.
She sat across from him, giving him only a passing glance, and she might've even looked scared to someone who didn't know her. For some reason, Kurt knew that look, and he knew what it meant. Brooding yet interested, she didn't feel it was of any value to speak or use any other pleasantries. That look fit her too well. Now, he thought, where do I remember that from?
"I'm glad we're all here," Vince began, pausing to look at the very late Miranda. "We've got some important business with Kurt's contract to discuss, some basic signatures to change, and a new little idea to plan." Some of the men in the room nodded, giving each other looks of "what has he got planned now?" Kurt looked to Miranda for a reaction, but she sat silent, taking it all in. Did she ever talk? He'd barely heard ten words from her earlier, but was surprised by her strong tone. She definitely wasn't shy.
Vince had started rambling again, and Kurt watched him as he spoke. His contract had to be resigned, that was expected, because of Miranda, and apparently a few new security clauses were now added. If she pulls the same stunt as Alan, Vince is going to sue her for all she's got. He didn't think she had much, there was a look about her that suggested experience, but not the high-paying kind. Secretary, filing, other plain things like that which could give knowledge if one looked for it- she probably had- but had no possibility for good wages.
Kurt eyed her obliviously, and didn't look up until his contract was shoved under his face. He signed quickly, and then it was slid over to Miranda. Her signature was bold and readable, yet tiny like it wanted to hide something. He held back a sigh. Don't turn all suspicious on yourself, Kurt. Even though she could be another workaholic who ends up going mad and selling all your secrets. Miranda didn't look like she would, that aura of stone seemed like nothing could break it- for the time being, anyway- and if she could look like she was hiding something that expertly, she probably was. At least she could keep a secret... or at least look like she was.
"I know you're going to think this a bit odd, Kurt," looking up at the mention of his name, Kurt watched Vince now, "but we've got an idea that will really get the crowd going. It's basically an extension on the whole 'hair vs hair' match, which- as previously discussed- you will be losing."
Miranda's eyes shot up, and everyone who saw that action knew what she was thinking. What's a 'hair vs hair' match? Vince, however, didn't see her, and he continued.
"After you lose that match, the next Thursday night, you'll be at the arena with... a wig. One that is obviously fake, but you'll say it's real anyway. It's going to be the start of a big 'take the wig off Angle' plot with Edge. He won and shaved you, but now he can't have the satisfaction of seeing you bald."
Kurt had to smile. "They're going to hate me," he said with a shake of his head. "The fans are going to go absolutely nuts."
Grinning, Vince nodded back at him. "That's what we want. They'll watch for weeks on end to see if you lose the wig, and to see if Edge has the privilege of taking it. We still need to decide on a good way to keep the wig on your head, we don't want anyone to see the baldness until we're ready to show it. I think we may fit you with some sort of headgear," everyone's eyebrows raised at this, "to keep it secure."
"Headgear?" one of the executives repeated. "Wouldn't that make him look like... well, even more of a dork?" The younger man smiled at his own comment, and Kurt felt Miranda look at him to check how true it was. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Kurt gave the man a casual stare to hide it.
"I get paid to look like a dork, it's more entertaining," he said, and no one missed the double meaning. It had the same effect as dancing on the table chanting 'you're a dork and so am I, but I get paid to be one, so hahaha.' This time, he couldn't hide the grin that lit up his broad features.
The executive gave him no reply, and the meeting continued in all its tedious glory. He was going to wear a wig, after his head was shaved by the still long-haired Edge, and say it was his own real hair. Supplements maybe, like a Chia pet on his head. Knowing Vince, he'd probably be lucky if he got something looking half as good as a ball of grass. Kurt glanced over at Miranda again, had she just said something? Whatever it was, he missed it.
~~~~~
"So, he's in a... hair vs HAIR match?" The tall blonde named Jayden, usually her hair was dyed a shining black, looked at Miranda with wide eyes. She had been Miranda's friend through the years, having met in junior high when both were tormented for dying their hair black and other wild colours, and had been inseparable ever since. Jayden had just enough life to bring out Miranda's louder side, not too often though, and Miranda proved to be the all too realistic one. She hadn't been like that always, but a past where Miranda was always screaming seemed too far gone.
In the present, Jayden's home was near NYC- although soon to be moved- while Miranda's changed often. Determined and flighty, that was the woman she'd become. Not like Jayden, who was so ever-changing and vibrant in her everyday life that it became comforting and expected.
Miranda shook her head slightly and threw her jacket over the nearest chair. "Don't even bother asking, I haven't figured that one out yet." She could've gone further, letting her suspicions of it being a baldness- related idea, one that was going to end in a wig, but the contract she had read stopped that instantly. Mr. McMahon had given her a copy of her contract beforehand, and she'd read every last word. He wasn't going to let another secret of the company's get out, and Miranda decided to tread lightly until she knew what was safe to say and what wasn't.
Jayden shrugged and fell onto the couch- no, Miranda's couch. They had been sharing an apartment for a few months, ever since Miranda had moved to town and started looking for work while Jayden kept her steady job as a teaching substitute. Each of them had their own personal touches throughout the four room space- two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room- with Jayden's being the happy memories of home, and Miranda's forest green couch and random appliances. Despite her happy appearance, Jayden had a heart that seemed constantly pulled at and an often forced smile. They had more in common than people thought.
Coming from a classic broken home, Jayden had a persistent desire to create a happy, peaceful living environment- she was lucky to have found a room- mate like Miranda who kept to her own and wouldn't complain unless she had a better way to do things. It was a rare virtue to say the least, especially when Miranda wanted something that wasn't a reminder of home.
"Is he cute?" Jayden said suddenly, now that she had raided the kitchen for a bowlful of popcorn. Falling back into the couch, she looked at Miranda expectantly and munched softly.
Miranda sighed and sat next to her, grabbing the ever-present carrying case and pulling out his file. She should've known that one was coming, Jayden had very willingly watched the last WWE show and was anxious for more. Shuffling through the papers inside, Miranda grabbed the page with Kurt's picture and profile and gave to it Jayden's eager hands.
Green eyes lit up, as did her smile, and Jayden held the picture close to get the best view. "Whew! Damn girl, now I know why you enjoy work so much! I've got a good mind to apply for a job too!" She relaxed but held the picture, and read of her favorite statistics with an unstoppable smirk. "Our Kurt is 6'2-"
"Our Kurt?" Miranda interjected with a raised eyebrow.
Jayden nodded slowly, engrossed. "Oh yeah! Anyway, OUR Kurt is 6'2- oh I love tall men- and weighs 220 pounds- all muscle, by the looks of it- and is... woah, an Olympic gold medalist!" She paused and read over more of his accomplishments- Miranda rolled her eyes, she wasn't that easily impressed- while stopping to read off the more interesting ones. "He's their champ too, well he was... did you read any of this? This guy's almost... surreal."
Grabbing some popcorn, Miranda smiled slightly. "I've glanced at it, but keep in mind that the show's fake. I wouldn't want to base my entire opinion of him on a series of false medals."
"The Olympic medals were real, I don't think Mr. WWE cold control that!" Jayden protested, and this got a real laugh from her friend. One of the few people who could do that, most people were lucky if they could get a smile from Miranda.
"I know, I know." Miranda grabbed the paper with a quick flick of her wrist and had it slid back into the case before Jayden could blink.
Shaking her head at Miranda now, Jayden stared at her empty hands. "I hate it when you do that, it makes me think of when you used to be..." She slowed and caught Miranda's eyes, and then stopped. "Well, it's true! It's damn true!" At this she burst into laughter, while Miranda sat clueless. She slid down almost to the floor, and then looked up at her dark eyed best friend. "You said you read his profile... that's his catch phrase!" She breathed heavily, thought of her new favorite picture, and sighed. "Damn, I envy your little cold and dark self."
~~~~~
~~~~~
The office was small, crowded, and more of those pale walls that threatened to make Miranda go blind. Not that she was an overly neat or creative person, but even she knew that this was terrible. It needs some black, maybe a curtain or something, and a plant that can... well, sit there in the corner until I forget to water it. Nice, home touches, she thought casually, and then froze. That was exactly what she didn't want, any more reminders in her life that would make her mind go falling back. Did that enough anyway.
She threw her bag onto the desk and walked around it, taking in every inch of the room. Her new space, where she would work and survive in solitude, planning the future of another person. A future that involved his involvement in brutal- completely fake- matches against other equally steroid-induced muscle men. Almost smiling, she went to the only window and opened it. She was almost excited, anxious, never nervous of course, to meet the people who made this company so well known. Grandparents talked about watching wrestling in old arenas, and elementary students ran around telling people to smell what they were cooking. What an odd bunch of people indeed.
One of them was, for certain, a unique person. Kurt Angle had already managed to make her think he was on steroids, spineless, and almost normal, all within a ten minute meeting. What he'd be like in a normal situation, day to day life, she didn't know. What sane person would want to become that involved in their work? It was just that, work. She'd be damned if she even made friends with him, unless he turned out to be likeable, because friendship was nothing in the world of business. Absolutely nothing, and that's what she was good at.
She sighed and fell into the seat, crossing her legs at the ankle and pushing hair behind her ear with one hand. Might as well get more acquainted with my client. Sliding the clasp of her carrying case open and pulling out the desired folder, Miranda opened to the first page. A standard picture, boring but showing startling blue eyes, and a simple profile. Rolling her eyes, and turned to the next sheet. Statistics didn't mean anything, if she wanted to know Kurt's height then she'd stand next to him and guess. Which she'd already done, just for her own curiosity.
She'd forced herself to sit down and watch that past Thursday's show. Never being a soap opera fan, she practically had to tie herself to the seat. They had a pattern on Smackdown, that was for sure. Talk for a while, which made no sense to her because she'd never seen a show and didn't know the storylines, and then fight. After that, the loser would get mad and, most often, a rematch or some other match against the winner and his friends was made. What kept people coming back? Soon, Miranda would have a chance to find out for herself.
Having control over Kurt Angle's contract and wrestling matches meant one thing: she knew what was going to happen. Maybe that would help her understand, having that inside view couldn't possibly hurt. The next section of his folder certainly helped that, in a way any woman would understand. There were pictures of his various gimmicks, past events, and every fan favorite finishing move. Speaking of hurt, these looked to be as harmless as mouse. One in particular caught her eye, Kurt and an black- suited opponent in the ring.
Kurt was holding his ankle and turning the foot somewhat, holding his opponent's body off the mat and twisting his features like he was putting superhuman strength into this... twisted ankle. The other man's expression was even worse, like he was going through childbirth, getting teeth pulled, and paying child support at the same time. It looked almost pathetic, this was the kind of thing that sold as a big-time wrestling move?
Focusing in on Kurt and sliding down in her chair, she shook her head slowly. Maybe this wasn't going to be the boring repetition day job she had thought it would be. He looked good in tights, definitely a perk, and the inner workings of the business had to be interesting. How could one man rule this many people and so many fans? Subliminal messages, she thought dryly. There had to be something going on.
From what she had been told, Mr. McMahon's company had been going through a lot of changes lately. An on-show split into two shows with different sets of performers, giving the coveted Monday night Raw slot to an eccentric Ric Flair, and a lawsuit with ithe other/i WWF, resulting in a name change. She was in WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, and about to--
"Miss Irving? Sorry to bother you, but your presence is needed at a meeting."
She nodded and stood up, finally some action to be in. Grabbing her case and slinging it over her arm, she walked over to the- she thought- secretary. "Just show me where to go," she said quickly. Let the action begin.
~~~~~
He hated this. Not the performing, no, that was what he had been born to do. These, the meetings beforehand that planned out his future, were tedious. Why am I even here? It's not like Vince needs my opinion- or really wants it- when he makes these matches. Just get the story writer's idea, make sure it's catchy enough, and then make the plans with Alan... wait, make them with the new manager.
Kurt raised his eyebrow when she chose that moment to walk in, things happening like that too often would be unnerving. His new manager looked very business oriented, good too, and he'd never seem a woman who went to those lengths to intimidate the opposite sex. It was a nice change from the people in WWE, so much different from the flirty secretary who only noticed men from the neck down, and the certain divas who wanted to put out for anyone.
He knew one thing already, Miranda Irving was no petty diva. Slightly goth though, he could picture her easily as a teenager with black nails and lipstick, and now she seemed to carry on that tradition. Black skirt- long, thank god she wasn't another one of "those female employees"- and a black jacket to cover her arms. Add the dark brown hair, and she looked... dangerous. Even her eyes seemed so hidden, so deep that he couldn't tell their colour. Dark brown, he guessed.
She sat across from him, giving him only a passing glance, and she might've even looked scared to someone who didn't know her. For some reason, Kurt knew that look, and he knew what it meant. Brooding yet interested, she didn't feel it was of any value to speak or use any other pleasantries. That look fit her too well. Now, he thought, where do I remember that from?
"I'm glad we're all here," Vince began, pausing to look at the very late Miranda. "We've got some important business with Kurt's contract to discuss, some basic signatures to change, and a new little idea to plan." Some of the men in the room nodded, giving each other looks of "what has he got planned now?" Kurt looked to Miranda for a reaction, but she sat silent, taking it all in. Did she ever talk? He'd barely heard ten words from her earlier, but was surprised by her strong tone. She definitely wasn't shy.
Vince had started rambling again, and Kurt watched him as he spoke. His contract had to be resigned, that was expected, because of Miranda, and apparently a few new security clauses were now added. If she pulls the same stunt as Alan, Vince is going to sue her for all she's got. He didn't think she had much, there was a look about her that suggested experience, but not the high-paying kind. Secretary, filing, other plain things like that which could give knowledge if one looked for it- she probably had- but had no possibility for good wages.
Kurt eyed her obliviously, and didn't look up until his contract was shoved under his face. He signed quickly, and then it was slid over to Miranda. Her signature was bold and readable, yet tiny like it wanted to hide something. He held back a sigh. Don't turn all suspicious on yourself, Kurt. Even though she could be another workaholic who ends up going mad and selling all your secrets. Miranda didn't look like she would, that aura of stone seemed like nothing could break it- for the time being, anyway- and if she could look like she was hiding something that expertly, she probably was. At least she could keep a secret... or at least look like she was.
"I know you're going to think this a bit odd, Kurt," looking up at the mention of his name, Kurt watched Vince now, "but we've got an idea that will really get the crowd going. It's basically an extension on the whole 'hair vs hair' match, which- as previously discussed- you will be losing."
Miranda's eyes shot up, and everyone who saw that action knew what she was thinking. What's a 'hair vs hair' match? Vince, however, didn't see her, and he continued.
"After you lose that match, the next Thursday night, you'll be at the arena with... a wig. One that is obviously fake, but you'll say it's real anyway. It's going to be the start of a big 'take the wig off Angle' plot with Edge. He won and shaved you, but now he can't have the satisfaction of seeing you bald."
Kurt had to smile. "They're going to hate me," he said with a shake of his head. "The fans are going to go absolutely nuts."
Grinning, Vince nodded back at him. "That's what we want. They'll watch for weeks on end to see if you lose the wig, and to see if Edge has the privilege of taking it. We still need to decide on a good way to keep the wig on your head, we don't want anyone to see the baldness until we're ready to show it. I think we may fit you with some sort of headgear," everyone's eyebrows raised at this, "to keep it secure."
"Headgear?" one of the executives repeated. "Wouldn't that make him look like... well, even more of a dork?" The younger man smiled at his own comment, and Kurt felt Miranda look at him to check how true it was. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Kurt gave the man a casual stare to hide it.
"I get paid to look like a dork, it's more entertaining," he said, and no one missed the double meaning. It had the same effect as dancing on the table chanting 'you're a dork and so am I, but I get paid to be one, so hahaha.' This time, he couldn't hide the grin that lit up his broad features.
The executive gave him no reply, and the meeting continued in all its tedious glory. He was going to wear a wig, after his head was shaved by the still long-haired Edge, and say it was his own real hair. Supplements maybe, like a Chia pet on his head. Knowing Vince, he'd probably be lucky if he got something looking half as good as a ball of grass. Kurt glanced over at Miranda again, had she just said something? Whatever it was, he missed it.
~~~~~
"So, he's in a... hair vs HAIR match?" The tall blonde named Jayden, usually her hair was dyed a shining black, looked at Miranda with wide eyes. She had been Miranda's friend through the years, having met in junior high when both were tormented for dying their hair black and other wild colours, and had been inseparable ever since. Jayden had just enough life to bring out Miranda's louder side, not too often though, and Miranda proved to be the all too realistic one. She hadn't been like that always, but a past where Miranda was always screaming seemed too far gone.
In the present, Jayden's home was near NYC- although soon to be moved- while Miranda's changed often. Determined and flighty, that was the woman she'd become. Not like Jayden, who was so ever-changing and vibrant in her everyday life that it became comforting and expected.
Miranda shook her head slightly and threw her jacket over the nearest chair. "Don't even bother asking, I haven't figured that one out yet." She could've gone further, letting her suspicions of it being a baldness- related idea, one that was going to end in a wig, but the contract she had read stopped that instantly. Mr. McMahon had given her a copy of her contract beforehand, and she'd read every last word. He wasn't going to let another secret of the company's get out, and Miranda decided to tread lightly until she knew what was safe to say and what wasn't.
Jayden shrugged and fell onto the couch- no, Miranda's couch. They had been sharing an apartment for a few months, ever since Miranda had moved to town and started looking for work while Jayden kept her steady job as a teaching substitute. Each of them had their own personal touches throughout the four room space- two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room- with Jayden's being the happy memories of home, and Miranda's forest green couch and random appliances. Despite her happy appearance, Jayden had a heart that seemed constantly pulled at and an often forced smile. They had more in common than people thought.
Coming from a classic broken home, Jayden had a persistent desire to create a happy, peaceful living environment- she was lucky to have found a room- mate like Miranda who kept to her own and wouldn't complain unless she had a better way to do things. It was a rare virtue to say the least, especially when Miranda wanted something that wasn't a reminder of home.
"Is he cute?" Jayden said suddenly, now that she had raided the kitchen for a bowlful of popcorn. Falling back into the couch, she looked at Miranda expectantly and munched softly.
Miranda sighed and sat next to her, grabbing the ever-present carrying case and pulling out his file. She should've known that one was coming, Jayden had very willingly watched the last WWE show and was anxious for more. Shuffling through the papers inside, Miranda grabbed the page with Kurt's picture and profile and gave to it Jayden's eager hands.
Green eyes lit up, as did her smile, and Jayden held the picture close to get the best view. "Whew! Damn girl, now I know why you enjoy work so much! I've got a good mind to apply for a job too!" She relaxed but held the picture, and read of her favorite statistics with an unstoppable smirk. "Our Kurt is 6'2-"
"Our Kurt?" Miranda interjected with a raised eyebrow.
Jayden nodded slowly, engrossed. "Oh yeah! Anyway, OUR Kurt is 6'2- oh I love tall men- and weighs 220 pounds- all muscle, by the looks of it- and is... woah, an Olympic gold medalist!" She paused and read over more of his accomplishments- Miranda rolled her eyes, she wasn't that easily impressed- while stopping to read off the more interesting ones. "He's their champ too, well he was... did you read any of this? This guy's almost... surreal."
Grabbing some popcorn, Miranda smiled slightly. "I've glanced at it, but keep in mind that the show's fake. I wouldn't want to base my entire opinion of him on a series of false medals."
"The Olympic medals were real, I don't think Mr. WWE cold control that!" Jayden protested, and this got a real laugh from her friend. One of the few people who could do that, most people were lucky if they could get a smile from Miranda.
"I know, I know." Miranda grabbed the paper with a quick flick of her wrist and had it slid back into the case before Jayden could blink.
Shaking her head at Miranda now, Jayden stared at her empty hands. "I hate it when you do that, it makes me think of when you used to be..." She slowed and caught Miranda's eyes, and then stopped. "Well, it's true! It's damn true!" At this she burst into laughter, while Miranda sat clueless. She slid down almost to the floor, and then looked up at her dark eyed best friend. "You said you read his profile... that's his catch phrase!" She breathed heavily, thought of her new favorite picture, and sighed. "Damn, I envy your little cold and dark self."
~~~~~