Sitting stiffly on an uncomfortable Starbucks patio chair, Fallon people-watched the sidewalk beside her, and stirred her straw around in her iced coffee slowly. She kept an eye on her open Uber app, watching as Kirby's hired car weaved up and down side streets, drawing closer and closer to the corner where she sat. She knew it was overkill, but after finding the redhead passed out in a mix of alcohol and her own blood, she felt that being extra precautionary - at least for the next little while - couldn't hurt. All of the ice had melted in her cup, leaving what was leftover tasting like a watery, sad excuse for coffee, but she couldn't bring herself to throw it out and show that she was almost being stood up.

Kirby's car pulled up slowly as Fallon closed out the app from her phone, pushing out the chair across from her for the other woman to sit down.

"You're late," she greeted.

"Had to stop for cigarettes," Kirby explained, adjusting her purse on her shoulder and making her way over. She pulled her sunglasses from her bag as she sat down, taking a quick glance at their surroundings before putting them on and getting comfortable.

Fallon watched her carefully, impatiently drumming her fingers on the metal table. She had advice to calm Kirby's nerves and keep a steady head - a lot of it - but they had more important matters to discuss. Since the trailer had been released only two days prior, Kirby had barely left her apartment unless it had been for work - as far as Fallon knew - and she hadn't had much of a chance to adjust to the idea of any new attention.

The morning after she'd… let herself in to Kirby's place, they hadn't been particularly productive. She'd had a car waiting for the actress as soon as she woke up, and the two of them spent their morning in the conference room of Carrington PR going over scheduling details for the upcoming weeks - or rather, Fallon and Kirby's manager, who had to be phoned in, had gone over scheduling details, while Kirby ate a protein bar and chugged four bottles of water.

She looked considerably more well-rested today, though. Her hair was all pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and her makeup was minimal, whatever hint of a tan she'd picked up from the last time Fallon had seen her in proper light seeming to finally glow through. She looked absolutely nothing like she did in Splintered Men , and Fallon realized that it was probably on purpose, to avoid being recognized.

"I didn't get a confirmation back from you about Chicago. Did you get the itinerary that I emailed?"

"I don't see why I can't bring my manager," Kirby complained, pulling a bottle of juice out of her bag after double-checking that none of the coffee shop staff would notice.

"Because we're only flying you and one more out. You can take her instead of me, if you want." Fallon knew her words had to have sounded like a threat, from the way the woman across from her stiffened, and then shook her head minutely.

She knew she had been hard on her, but it was a little rewarding to see her still recognize that even if she hated everything Fallon did, she still needed her on her team.

"Alright, so," Fallon sat up in her seat, steadying her gaze on the other woman despite her large sunglasses, "We'll call your management office when we land, you and I will go to the first day together, we'll spend the night, then head to New York. We have three days there, but only day two is work; we get in in the afternoon and leave early on day three, then… back home. There's four straight days once we're here, but then you can relax."

Kirby nodded slowly, processing everything, but Fallon continued.

"I know Alice is going to be in New York for the next few weeks." Fallon watched the redhead suddenly avert her gaze to her table, and then her phone, before looking up again.

" And?" she snapped.

"And you're not seeing her. We're busy. I can see the idea hamster running on his little wheel in your brain from here. Not a chance."

"Jesus, Fallon," Kirby breathed out, the annoyance obvious on her face. "What am I, fifteen?"

Fallon held both hands up as if she were a scale, leaning one way and then the other.

"Oscar… druggie girlfriend… Oscar… druggie girlfriend… which one?"

Kirby shook her head, and Fallon could see her roll her eyes beneath her glasses.

"Alice isn't my girlfriend. Not that it would have helped your case either way, but telling me who I can and can't be friends with seems like a stretch."

Fallon sighed.

"I'm not telling you who you can and can't be friends with. I'm telling you, as your publicist, that you're making a huge mistake by being seen with her constantly when you have so much riding on these next few months."

Kirby scoffed. "You don't even know her."

Taking a calming breath and closing her eyes for a moment, Fallon reined in her sudden surge of white hot frustration that tempted her to lean over the table and shake some sense into the woman on the other side.

"Kirby," she tried to sound as non-condescending as possible, her tone suddenly much more gentle. "You don't know her, either. I obviously can't lock you in a hotel room cuffed to the radiator and keep you away from her, but it's in your best interest to just make it through this tour with your head down."

She watched the other woman decide if she was going to fight her on it or not before seeming to decide the latter and nodding.

"Fine. Probably be too tired, anyway."

Fallon let out a tiny sigh of relief.

"Can I at least go out or do something on my own? No offence, but the less time that I'm stuck with you, the better your chances of me keeping you," Kirby faux-threatened.

"Oh, please." Fallon flapped one hand dismissively. "If you wanted to fire me, you would have already."

Kirby sat up straighter in her seat, turning her gaze out to the street for a moment, before huffing, "Can we just go over the talking points now, or what? I have my own life."

Fallon reached into her bag and flipped open the folder sticking out from the top, turning it toward Kirby on the table.

"Fine. Alright, we'll start with Chicago."

A week passed, leading up to the trip. In Kirby's defense, she did still show up to every interview that Fallon had set up for her - though that may have had more to do with the cars that Fallon sent for her than a serious passion for work.

Some evenings, anxiety kept Fallon awake, thinking about whatever stupid, rebellious comment or threat to go rogue that Kirby had made to her during the day, but each morning, she showed up, flipped the switch, and did her interviews.

She'd seen enough of Kirby being a professional, and she knew she was fully capable of turning it on and off when she needed to - so she was convinced that the troublemaking aspect of her personality that seemed to come out when the cameras were off was specifically making its visits to rattle her nerves.

And boy, was it was working.

She found herself reminding Kirby about appointments and meetings and interviews so often that the redhead seemed genuinely irritated at the constant nagging, and then still showed up with only a minute to spare.

Fallon was sure she'd occasionally caught her smirking to herself after stumbling through some excuse for being so rushed, but for the sake of her own sanity, told herself she was being paranoid.

With just two days to go before they flew out, Fallon was rushing around from the office to interviews like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to keep an eye on Kirby while also letting her think that she was easing up on her. It was a delicate balance, and the truth was that if she hadn't been as busy as she was, it would have been easier to maintain.

She nearly forgot about Kirby getting home from her last interview of the day - one of the first few that she was doing without Fallon - and when she pulled up to the curb of the hotel, in the rain, she could almost see steam rising off of the redhead as she made her way over to the car.

Rolling down the passenger side window, Fallon leaned over a little to call out for her, but she waved a hand dismissively at her as she leaned down and poked her head into the car.

"I'm going to finish this." She held her cigarette up, the small tower of ash balancing on the end of it looking precariously close to toppling off into the car seat. "You can wait."

She stalked back across the sidewalk toward the building to lean against it again, and Fallon could see her shivering from several feet away. She watched her for a few moments, while she smoked with shaking hands and glared out down the street at passersby. Fallon rarely saw her genuinely angry like this, but her crankiness was becoming increasingly more common over the last week they'd spent together. She was partially convinced that they'd have some kind of fight once they started on the trip - they were already right on top of each other, constantly, just working together for a few hours each day. Being stuck in the same hotel suite and spending almost every waking moment together would be a new nightmare.

She was also going to miss her apartment. She hadn't been on a single trip out of town - at least not an overnight one - since she'd signed her lease, and she was beginning to realize that she'd grown much more attached to the space than she originally thought.

Kirby let herself back into the car and a wave of smoke-scented air followed her.

"D'you have any gum?" She asked, dropping her (wet) purse down to her feet and sitting back in her (now wet) seat.

Fallon took in the sight of her dripping all over the upholstery, and wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"D'you have an umbrella?"

"Obviously not." Kirby quirked an eyebrow, then held her hand out. "Gum?"

Fallon sighed, shifting the car into park and reaching behind herself to dig around in her bag for a moment, before finding a package and holding it out to the other woman.

She watched Kirby take two pieces out and then drop the pack into her own purse at her feet, settling in and then clearing her throat.

" Well? Are we going?"

Fallon chuckled in disbelief at the sudden ugly attitude rearing its head, blaming it reflexively on how cold and uncomfortable she must have been - and then wondering why she was doing the mental work to bother justifying it.

Pulling away from the curb she made her way towards Kirby's apartment complex.

"Before I forget, I think I sent you the packing list," Fallon spoke after a few long minutes of bitter silence. "Can you double check?"

She glanced over and did a double take impatiently before Kirby pulled her phone out with a sigh that sounded like it was ripped off of an angsty teenager in a nineties sitcom.

Fallon bit her lip in response, trying not to give in to her amusement, instead clearing her throat and squinting out the windshield as if she were super concentrated on watching the rain fall.

"This seems excessive." Kirby finally spoke again, her eyes locked on her email screen on her phone.

"It's pretty straightforward. I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have." Fallon kept her tone as neutral as possible, but couldn't help but let the boredom seep into her voice. It was beginning to get a little bit exhausting - butting heads with Kirby had become so routine that it wasn't even a challenge anymore, just a predictable push and pull game.

Kirby didn't answer her, and instead continued to stare at her screen. Fallon knew she didn't have any real issues with the list.

Approaching Kirby's building, Fallon pulled over and parked, turning her attention to the woman next to her, expecting her to bail out of the car before she was even parked. Instead, the redhead tucked her phone away and stared straight ahead for a long, quiet moment. Her hair dripped onto the seat and herself, the scent of her shampoo being reawakened from the rain and filling the car almost cloyingly.

"Kirby?"

"Do you always do this?"

Fallon frowned, turning in her seat a little more.

"Do what?" she asked.

"Put everyone you're concerned about on a toddler leash."

"I'm not concerned about you , I'm concerned about your image."

Kirby scoffed, shaking her head a little and gathering up her purse.

"Right. My mistake."

Fallon sighed, turning off her ignition.

"I have no reason to be concerned about you," she insisted. "But I don't think some of the decisions you're making right now are particularly beneficial to what we're trying to do, here."

Kirby snorted.

"Whatever, you're the expert."

Fallon felt the smirk pulling at her lip before she could stop it.

"By all means, you can pull the plug on this entire thing. Have another publicist try to parade you around and keep you out of trouble, or, better yet, just do the whole thing yourself."

"Does it ever get tiring?" Kirby practically cut her off. "Acting like a sociopath and refusing to make, I don't know, any real human connections with people because god forbid someone actually enjoys being around you for anything other than employing you?"

Fallon froze on the spot, slowly pulling her bottom lip into her mouth and biting down on it to keep from spitting out the slew of reactionary insults that suddenly boiled up inside of her.

Kirby seeing her as some sort of robot wasn't the worst case scenario. She didn't need to let it get under her skin. It could be beneficial, if she played her hand properly.

"People deserve to see your work," she said, after a moment of thought. "You're not just an actor; you're a movie star. Recognition should be a given, but it isn't. You can't fault me for wanting what's best for you."

Kirby turned to her, finally, and her eye contact was so intense that Fallon found herself squirming uncomfortably in her seat.

"Did you even see the movie?"

"Of course I did."

Kirby scoffed quietly. "Well, you could hardly remember the title. Did you watch it? Really watch it? And think, yes, that woman deserves a Best Actress award because she really earned it."

Fallon opened her mouth to respond, but Kirby continued.

"If you're only doing this because you think I could be shaped into someone who could manage to get that award, I don't want to do this. Not with you."

Fallon felt her heart thudding against her chest but ignored it.

"Kirby, I -"

"You know what the worst part is?" Kirby went on. "I can feel that you think I deserve it. But you can't admit -out loud, at least - that you believe in me. Doesn't that seem shitty to you? Would you want to work with someone like that?"

"What do you want me to say, then?" Fallon asked.

"I want you to admit that you believe in me. At least when it comes to this."

The two of them stared each other down for a long moment, and then Fallon cleared her throat again.

"I do. Believe in you, I mean."

Kirby watched her for a moment and then raised an eyebrow.

"Good. You want to come upstairs for a drink?"

Fallon shook her head, sinking back into her seat and starting the car again. She watched the windshield wipers spring back to life and clear the rain from her window.

"No. I don't drink while I'm working. And this is work."

Kirby opened the door and climbed out without so much as a goodbye, slamming it shut behind her. Fallon watched her walk towards the door and shifted her car back into drive, pulling away from the curb before she could give the other woman a chance to look back.

She drove in silence for awhile.

Kirby wasn't the first and certainly wouldn't be the last person to whirlwind into her life and try to change all of her opinions on how to conduct herself professionally, personally, and whatever else, but it still stung.

She thought about watching the movie again. It was still sitting in the basket by her television, right on top of the pile and waiting for yet another revisit. She couldn't, though - watching it over and over again made her feel soft, like she couldn't quite separate the woman with the perfect work ethic from the woman who had been antagonizing her on a daily basis for the entire time she'd known her. She considered reaching out to Kirby's manager and asking if she wanted her spot on the press junket, but also knew that deep down it had to be her.

Kirby's question did float around in her head, though, and she let herself think about it beyond what everyone had needed to hear in the moment. Did she think Kirby genuinely deserved that award? Before then, her job had consisted of selling the client and getting the award, regardless. She didn't make a habit of watching the competition, avoiding it as much as she could. She'd only paid attention to Kirby, until now, but was realizing that it wouldn't hurt to take a look at who they were trying to knock down.

Putting her own biases aside, she flipped on her signal light and changed course to head back to the office - there was a locker full of 'Films for Consideration' waiting for her, and she had nothing else to do with the rest of her evening but pack and catch up on what she was up against.