Despite earlier news of his departure, Tino was taking his final afternoon of auditions in his stride, as if he was really making the most of his time and making a name for himself. He even took a 'messy' bullet for Palmer on one occasion to save the Sentinel from a germ-fuelled panic attack, and had been ordered to clean himself up in order to stop the wardrobe department from stepping in and screwing with continuity.

Backstage in the bathroom facilities, the Montana was softly crooning to himself as he wiped the specks of rubbish off his leather jacket; suddenly swapping to half-assed impressions of his fellow judges, he then proceeded to judge himself in a rather jokey manner as he carried on cleaning up his jacket.

"Tino, hun, I thought that was a-ma-zing...why grazie, Lady...well I thought it was ok. Nothing special but what are you going to do?...what a refreshing yet considerate criticism, Palmer. Let me shake your hand...please don't, that'll be health code violation 21, because I'm such a whiny little cagna."

He couldn't help chuckling to himself as he wiped off the last bits of rubbish, muttering a somewhat light-hearted "a little bit of dirt never hurt anyone". However, his mood soon changed when he heard what sounded like a camera click; there was only one type of person who would need a camera so close to the backstage window, and that was a filthy, little paparazzo.

Any other time, Tino would have pushed the window open and grabbed the snooping paparazzo by the collar, yet he had a valid reason to simply stop at opening the window when he noticed exactly who he was.

"Mo?! The actual cazzo?!" He exclaimed, his tone a mixture of surprise and annoyance; surprised that the likes of Mo DiFalco would resort to snooping on something his own clanmates were involved in, and annoyed that the fact he was an Upper meant he couldn't beat him up too badly without Bianca having a go at him in the long run.

"Just be cool," Mo said, seemingly desperate to escape the situation as he straightened his journalist headwear. "All I want is the latest CGGT scoop for my website, ok?"

"How about the scoop where one of the judges had to beat a little sense into a nosy, little puntura?"

"I just wanna know if you're staying on or not," Mo stumbled, a little nervous laughter escaping him as he wasn't sure what to make of the other male's light-hearted threat. "There's been rumours and it's my job to give the people what they want."

"You basically want me to spill an executive decision about me not staying for the semi-finals so you get more website traffic," Tino sighed, his irritation then turning to himself when he realised what he'd just admitted. "Oh for cazzo's sake!"

As he eagerly scribbled down the media 'revelation', Mo failed to notice that the cannibal hadn't stayed too irritated for long, and didn't catch even the smallest glimpse of the smirk that was forming on his face. However, the smirk on the gossipist's own face was causing his company to grow more and more furious at the sheer cheek of his actions; his skin only saved from any potential punches when a familiar and slightly impatient voice called from speaker system.

"Tino, we can't wait here for you all day!"

"You got lucky," the Montana said, shooting the 'I'm watching you' gesture at the Uppers male before closing the window with such force that it knocked Mo off balance and onto his bum; the cannibal chuckling rather deviously to himself as he heard the other male's annoyed grumbling, he couldn't help but keep the grin on his face as he returned to the theatre.

"There you are," Colin said, signalling at the stage crew member next to him to tick something off their clipboard. "Now we can carry on...hey, wipe that smile off your face. You're not supposed to enjoy yourself."

However, his little jibe had all been in good faith, as the producer soon had a huge grin on his own face now that everyone was where they should be. With Tino back in his seat, the final auditions were under way as the last talented dregs of the soup that were Clint City were making themselves known, giving the judges an even more difficult time in regards to who would be best semi-finalist material. One of the best candidates arrived in the form of a tall, blonde, dog handler, Demi, who was effortlessly keeping her 'best friend' under control.

"Oh your dog is just gorgeous!" Lady cooed, sounding genuinely smitten. "What's the breed?"

"Maple's what they call a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever," Demi explained, smiling as she gently stroked the fur on top of the Retriever's head. "I've had her for seven years, been training for this kind of act since she was a puppy."

"And I'm guessing the act is doggy dancing?" The Upper replied, simpering a little at the cuteness of it all. However, her sentiments were not shared with the judge to her right who had suddenly became rather uneasy.

"Dogs on their two legs...it's not natural."

At that moment, Maple had decided to make her way towards the judging panel; causing Palmer to yelp when she jumped into his lap, it seemed the licking of the face was too much as the Sentinel hurriedly yet carefully let Maple hop off said lap, before running off to wash the slobber from his cheek.

~

"Apart from the slobber...that dog-dancing act was genuinely amazing. I think it's safe to say that the auditions ended on a high."

Still smiling as he shuddered a little at the flash of memory that had struck him, Palmer turned to Tino and Lady, eager to hear their opinions on the afternoon's events. However, their talk was soon cut short when Colin approached the panel with a smile on his face almost identical to Palmer's.

"I really have to hand it to you guys, you really know how to pick them," he said, even applauding them as he spoke without a hint of sarcasm in neither word nor action. "From what I've seen and heard, these semi-finals are set to be the best that the show has had. I'd hate to have to choose, honestly."

"Speaking of semi-finals," Tino began, completely in control as he looked the male Upper straight in the eye. "Colin, you gotta shift from a three judge panel to a four."

"You've already been told, Tino. I don't trust your clan enough to not crash the show."

"I can make them behave with the right threat," he said, grinning rather deviously. "And you could prove one of Mo DiFalco's rumours to be complete stronzate."

"That's Italian for bullshit," Lady then said, upon noticing the confused look on Colin's face. However, said confused look soon turned to one of intrigue, as if the male Upper was actually considering Tino's offer.

"Mo was sneaking around here earlier, well, backstage," Tino began to explain, rather calmly. "Whilst I was getting the merda, the shit, off my jacket. I caught him and nearly made him piss himself before he could start asking too many questions. You calling for me also cut his opportunity short, by the way. But I did end up letting slip about me not staying on for the semi-finals and he lapped it up like gold dust."

"And you made him truly believe that you not staying on was the truth, right?" Colin pondered, his attention focusing on the now-nodding Montana. With an answer on hand, he couldn't help letting a somewhat self-satisfied 'huh' escape him as he took what looked like a clipboard from one of his personal assistants.

"Mo's been spilling out every ounce of information about this show ever since it started," he began, scribbling away with pen in hand. "It would be nice to keep this one thing from him and prove him wrong. Ok, Tino. As long as you keep your clan under control, you can stay on the judging panel."

"Yay!" Lady chirped, suddenly throwing her arms around the cannibal and giving him a big hug; Palmer seeming less enthusiastic, but managing to keep a smile on his face all the same, until Tino tried to hug him. Both Tino and Lady swore they could hear him mutter 'violation twenty-two' under his breath.

"Anyway, guys," Colin then announced, gently signalling to the judges that they could leave. "Semi-finals decision time coming up. I want you to all get a good night's sleep and meet me at Clint City Studios tomorrow, 8 am sharp. Don't let me down."