Hey! Sorry it's taken me a while to get to this...I've got too many things in the works, I'll admit. I'll try to do better. Hope you enjoy!


Current Interaction: Courtney and Chris

"No...please..."

She leaned his chair back; Chris was now laying down, head falling lower than his chest, unable to move from the strap around his neck. Courtney leaned over, the blade in her hand.

"You don't want me to do it? Then give me what I want," she demanded, brown eyes narrowing in fury.

Chris sputtered. "I---I can't. We have to let it play out naturally---we need more drama, it would be better to leave him---AGH!"

The blade slid across his cheek. His eyes widened as he struggled against his restraints. "No!"

"Give me what I want!"

Chris was breathing hard. "They'll probably just do it themselves anyway!" he screamed. "What if---okay, we'll make sure the Bass don't get immunity? Then it can just work itself out---"

The blade flashed again. "Agh!"

"Don't treat me like an idiot, Maclain! I know you'll just find some way to save him, for the sake of your stupid script! I want him out NOW!" The blade lowered back towards his neck. "Unless you want me to finish the job?"

Chris began to sob. This was too much, too much...he sputtered something incomprehensible.

"What was that?"

Chris took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright...alright. If the Bass don't vote him off themselves, I'll...I'll make sure he gets kicked off."

She smirked. "There, see?" she said, putting the blade down slowly. "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

Grinning maliciously, she undid the straps on his arms, legs and neck, and then swept out of the room. He sat up, shaking, breathing hard.

Oh well. They had wanted to keep Harold on for a bit longer...he was a fan favorite, and anyway, he really wanted to wait until Duncan figured out that he was the one who switched the votes to get Courtney voted off in the first place. He and the producers had considered the whole "next-episode-karma-kick-off"...he'd just have to convince them it was the better way to go after all.

His eyes wandered to the little table by his chair, and to the small blade that sat there.

The Gilette Mach Four razor sat there innocently enough, gleaming in the light. Chris trembled at the sight of it. Slowly, his hand traveled up to his cheeks, to the two little spots now smooth of any hair...it would have been so easy for her to finish the job, to bring that blade across his whole neck and face...Chris brought his hand across his neck, wiping the fluffy shaving cream from his precious, precious stubble. Man. It would have taken him days to regrow that.

Rising to his feet, still trembling at the near calamity that had just occurred, Chris got off the Playa des Losers beach chair and walked out of the room.


Because I'm just weird that way.

Next Interaction: Izzy and Chef