Patch's AN's: Howdy everyone! It took us a bit
but we finally have the next chapter out for
you all to enjoy. Now in case you haven't
realized it yet, this *is* a comedy so don't
forget to smile! ^_^ My Mizu-momma/poppa did a
wonderfulicious job on this one. Enjoy!
Mizu's AN's: ::jigs:: yay! Another chapter!
Courtesy of kana and I! ::pulls a reluctant
kana along into the jig who later turns @_@::
ehehe...^^;; Anywho, ::pokes kana:: bug obaa-
san over here (patch) to do the next chapter...
;)
Disclaimer: ever notice that this note always
states the obvious? (readers glare at fanfic
authors) ^^;; Anyway, sailor moon belongs to
naoko takeuchi.
Chapter 3: Not my cup of coffee…and what is
that green stuff?
yes…kana and I inject caffeine into our
systems daily ^^;;
Mamoru stared down at his wrist watch.
His wrist watch stared back at him in a vacant
mechanical fashion, reading,
"two forty-five..." Mamoru noted,
brushing back his coal-black hair for the
umpteenth time that day...err...make it hour...
^^;; Needless to say, he was just a little
frazzled about this prospecting job that Motoki
literally pounced on him through the telephone.
...Toshiba building...Twelve
floor...three o'clock...
Mamoru heaved another sigh. "I will not
be angry at Motoki," he repeated to himself
over and over, trying to quell that part of him
that still clung onto the idea of ringing
Motoki's neck. In fact, he was still muttering
profanities under his breath as he walked into
an elevator filled with people in business
suits. He looked at his reflection in the
metallic elevator wall and gave himself a
single, curt nod of approval that went
unnoticed by everyone.
Good idea I chose the green jacket, he
thought as he wedged himself between the wall
and a woman holding a clipboard. The
passengers in the elevator left for every
consecutive floor, however, to Mamoru, who
couldn't help being a little nervous, it felt
like an eternity.
By the time he got to the twelfth floor,
he navigated himself to the media branch.
Stopping at a cherry wood door, his eyes caught
sight of a bronze plaque.
"TSU-KI-NO U-SA-GI, talent agent," he
articulated carefully, just to make sure he was
in the right place.
"Very good," a voice behind him
applauded, nearly driving Mamoru from his
steady standing spot.
"What the...?" He turned to see what had
nearly made him jump out of his skin. A petite
blond stood in a dusty pink business jacket and
vest looking very harmless—at least, at first
glance…
"You're Chiba Mamoru, I assume?" She
said demurely, an absent look settled
comfortably on her face. She turned the brass
knob on the door to enter into her office.
Mamoru could only nod in reply. He
followed her in like an obedient child and
accepted the seat that she offered in front of
her desk.
"Coffee?" She asked, offering him a blue
mug filled with that glorious liquid. Mamoru
nodded hesitantly, not quite sure what he
should do next. Slowly, he lifted the cup to
his lips, taking a tiny sip.
Gah! The stuff was cold! He swallowed
the dark liquid carefully. Not wanting to be
impolite to his possible savior, he took
another sip…and another…then a gulp… He winced
a little…yeesh! This stuff tasted terrible
cold! What was this? The remaining laundry
water from old socks?
Usagi took a sip from the cup of coffee
she retrieved for herself, made a face and put
it down again on her gargantuan desk. She took
one look at Mamoru. How could he stand this
stuff? She smiled pleasantly at him. "So,"
she drawled, "Motoki tells me you've had
experience as a model..."
Mamoru nearly choked at that statement.
Pausing, he swallowed the latest gulp of the
sock water and nodded, a false smile creasing
his face in attempt to hide his fib.
"Ah, so you don't mind the early hours
and the long days..." Usagi murmured to
herself, as Mamoru gave her another all-too-
innocent smiles.
"No, no, Ms. Tsukino! I *love* early
mornings! Long days are built into my system,"
Mamoru cringed inwardly...that was one *cheesy*
way of impressing a talent agent. Usagi
swerved in her leather recliner seat, and
stared at him slack-jawed.
"Honestly, I don't understand how you
people do it," she said, turning into a ghastly
shade of white. "Uh-uh…" She shook her head
like a small child refusing to eat their
vegetables—or anything green, for that matter.
Well, that went well! Mamoru thought
sarcastically, pushing his enthusiasm back to
the closet where it had crawled from.
"Do you have some pictures from photo
shoots then?" Usagi asked, ready to pencil in
his answer on a pad of torn papers.
"Umm...no."
Usagi stared at him.
"Commercials?"
"No..."
"School pictures?!"
Mamoru shook his head.
Usagi heaved a sigh, slowly, as if she
were controlling her non-existant temper. She
turned her eyes heavenward and flung the pad of
paper behind her. "I'm doomed," she said in a
condemning tone.
"It can't be *that* bad," Mamoru said
soothingly, wanting to pat the poor girl on the
back. He heard her mutter something about
"Motoki" and "Why me?"
She started wailing incoherent words
about ringing Motoki's neck and it being
useless.
"Glad someone feels the same way I do,"
shrugged Mamoru. Although, it did break his
heart to see the girl in the tormenting
situation she was in. "How about this,"
offered Mamoru, "we'll go out to lunch and get
something to calm down the nerves? Come on,"
he wheedled, "You can pick the restaurant."
Almost instantly, the wailing stopped,
followed by the sound of an ambitious Usagi
stuffing papers into her bag.
"Let's go," she replied autonomously.
Mamoru raised his eyebrows. Talking
about change of heart...
***
They were green, *very* green. In some
sections, it was transparent, in others, opaque
and seemingly impenetrable. Their sloped forms
curved into a river of thick goo of some
unknown source.
Mamoru raised his eyebrows. He didn't
order vegetables, or at least, he didn't
remember doing so. He prodded at one of the
creatures with a fine silver fork. Either it
was his imagination or he was very tired, but
he could've sworn the thing blinked back at
him. He dropped his fork with a quiet thump on
the linen-covered table.
Usagi looked up from her large bowl of
cream mushroom soup. "Something wrong?" She
asked, spoon pausing midway en route to her
mouth.
Her lunch companion blinked. "Huh? Oh,
this?" He quickly picked up the fork (and
almost spilled his water in the process) and
pointed at his fork at his swamp-colored meal.
The plate seemed more appetizing than its
contents...
"Eat up then, you need to eat," she said
firmly, as if stating a law of life. Skipping
lunch, to her, was sacrilegious.
"Ehh..." He poked at one of the green
creatures again.
Usagi stared at him, "Go on..." she
nudged him on.
He punctured one of the creatures with
his weapon of choice; the fork. They were
soft, he admitted, as he lifted on off the
china plate with a disgusting squelching sound.
Slowly, he lifted the morsel of green
*something-or-other* to his mouth. Opening his
parched lips slowly, in went the morsel, and
out went Mamoru's sanity, or so he thought. He
must be crazy to eat something like this,
especially for a job. He chewed once, then
twice, then swallowed with an audible gulping
sound. They tasted rather salty, like swamp
water, and smelled rather salty, like swamp
water, and the meal itself looked like (you
guessed it!) swamp water.
What possessed me to order this? Mamoru
thought, regretting every single moment between
leaving Usagi's office and to this ongoing
point. Then again, the only thing he could
understand on the menu was this particular
entrée, which meant spiced peas, or so he
thought. In fact, that entrée did sound rather
suspicious to him. Why would a restaurant
serve "spiced peas"? But *no*, he didn't
listen to that little voice inside his head
telling him *not* to order anything outside a
glass of water.
"Eat them, they're a novelty," Usagi
smiled brightly at him and returned to her
soup. Now all Mamoru had to do was figure out
exactly *what* that novelty was.
However, what captured his attention most
was that smile of hers. For once, during that
day, she'd flashed him a truly generous smile.
Well, it was probably brought upon by food, but
for some reason, unknown to Mamoru, it seemed
to brighten his day a little. Those regrets
that he had suddenly dissipated into thin air
as the creatures on his plate beckoned to him.
***
Lunch did a number on his wallet, but
Mamoru saw the meal as a task, perhaps even a
test. However, this test would leave him with
his trusty anti-stomach pain medication friend.
Somehow, he managed to trudge himself back to
Usagi's office. He flopped himself comfortably
on the seat by the table and proceeded to get
back to the interview.
"Where was I?" Usagi pulled out a bunch
of other papers from the ground. She turned
one upside down and grinned. "yes, photos..."
Mamoru cringed. "Don't have any, sorry."
Usagi gave him that same stare she did before
lunch before nodding curtly.
"Take off your clothes." A simple
statement, one that meant the world to Mamoru.
"Wha...?" Mamoru gaped at her. She
didn't just say what I thought she did, did
she?
"Take off your clothes," she said firmly.
Mamoru continued to gape at her. A
demanding woman, indeed. However, he wasn't
really interested in a steamy relationship with
this woman...yet. He suppressed the urge to
grin devilishly, but nevertheless, his lips
twitched slightly upwards.
"Don't be a hentai! I'm not going to
defile your dignity or anything," she sighed,
rolling her eyes. "I need to see your
physique. After all, you are going for the
cupid role, ne?"
Mamoru blushed; a rare event that occurs
once every few years or so. Gingerly, he
peeled off his clothes, exposing his torso.
And what a torso indeed...Usagi's eyes
widened. I wonder what...no! Usagi held her
hormones back, getting back to the business at
hand. (Interesting business, ne?)
Mamoru had a gorgeous figure. His skin
was pulled tautly over firm muscles and sinews.
He had the classic Greek physique; which was
naturally perfect for the role of cupid.
They'd better not be looking for the role
of Psyche, Usagi's eyes flattened. I'll ring
whoever...? Wait a moment...where did *this*
thought come from?
"Turn around, please," Usagi murmured,
voice a little husky.
Obediently, Mamoru turned himself around,
rotating a complete 360 degrees for inspection.
"Need the pants off too?" Mamoru asked, then
recorded in his mental agenda to slap himself
for that later.
Usagi gulped, trying miserably to
maintain her calm, collected self.
Fortunately, Mamoru was too embarrassed for
himself to even notice.
"Umm...no, no, it's not necessary," Usagi
managed to say, straightening her collar, which
had suddenly began to feel tight around her
throat.
"So, would I get the part?" Mamoru
asked, sitting himself down on the seat once
more, forgetting to dress. Her answer was more
important than anything at the moment.
"Uhh..." she began. "Yes, yes you do,
Chiba-san." She rose from her seat,
"Congratulations."
However, upon rising from her overgrown
chair, a magazine had decided to land just
where she was about to step, causing her to
slip and have her face meet the lovely desk.
"Ack!" She yelped, landing right
into...Mamoru's arms? She blinked, unable to
get her footing. Mamoru blinked, holding a
rather frazzled Usagi in his bare arms.
The door suddenly opened, revealing
Usagi's receptionist. Both Mamoru and Usagi
held their breaths, the tension growing in the
air around them. The receptionist went to the
desk mechanically, dropped some folders and
left out the door without a single peep or
glance. The door shut with a loud thud as both
Mamoru and Usagi let out a sigh of relief.
However, the door opened again, as Usagi
and Mamoru became still as statues once more.
They looked very much like two people, posing
in an embrace, in the midst of...
"Never mind," the receptionist blinked,
then frowned, then finally shook her head. She
looked from Usagi to Mamoru and then back
again. "I won't even ask..."
The door shut again for the last time
that afternoon, however, Usagi had the feeling
that her co-workers wouldn't let this itty bit
of juicy gossip out of their grasp. It was
going to be a *long* afternoon indeed.
***
Psyche – the wife of Cupid, I think...
Cupid *is* from Greek Mythology, I think...
(Lot's of unsure answers, I know... ^^;;)
mail is nice. (Hint! Hint!) ;)
December 10/2000
but we finally have the next chapter out for
you all to enjoy. Now in case you haven't
realized it yet, this *is* a comedy so don't
forget to smile! ^_^ My Mizu-momma/poppa did a
wonderfulicious job on this one. Enjoy!
Mizu's AN's: ::jigs:: yay! Another chapter!
Courtesy of kana and I! ::pulls a reluctant
kana along into the jig who later turns @_@::
ehehe...^^;; Anywho, ::pokes kana:: bug obaa-
san over here (patch) to do the next chapter...
;)
Disclaimer: ever notice that this note always
states the obvious? (readers glare at fanfic
authors) ^^;; Anyway, sailor moon belongs to
naoko takeuchi.
Chapter 3: Not my cup of coffee…and what is
that green stuff?
yes…kana and I inject caffeine into our
systems daily ^^;;
Mamoru stared down at his wrist watch.
His wrist watch stared back at him in a vacant
mechanical fashion, reading,
"two forty-five..." Mamoru noted,
brushing back his coal-black hair for the
umpteenth time that day...err...make it hour...
^^;; Needless to say, he was just a little
frazzled about this prospecting job that Motoki
literally pounced on him through the telephone.
...Toshiba building...Twelve
floor...three o'clock...
Mamoru heaved another sigh. "I will not
be angry at Motoki," he repeated to himself
over and over, trying to quell that part of him
that still clung onto the idea of ringing
Motoki's neck. In fact, he was still muttering
profanities under his breath as he walked into
an elevator filled with people in business
suits. He looked at his reflection in the
metallic elevator wall and gave himself a
single, curt nod of approval that went
unnoticed by everyone.
Good idea I chose the green jacket, he
thought as he wedged himself between the wall
and a woman holding a clipboard. The
passengers in the elevator left for every
consecutive floor, however, to Mamoru, who
couldn't help being a little nervous, it felt
like an eternity.
By the time he got to the twelfth floor,
he navigated himself to the media branch.
Stopping at a cherry wood door, his eyes caught
sight of a bronze plaque.
"TSU-KI-NO U-SA-GI, talent agent," he
articulated carefully, just to make sure he was
in the right place.
"Very good," a voice behind him
applauded, nearly driving Mamoru from his
steady standing spot.
"What the...?" He turned to see what had
nearly made him jump out of his skin. A petite
blond stood in a dusty pink business jacket and
vest looking very harmless—at least, at first
glance…
"You're Chiba Mamoru, I assume?" She
said demurely, an absent look settled
comfortably on her face. She turned the brass
knob on the door to enter into her office.
Mamoru could only nod in reply. He
followed her in like an obedient child and
accepted the seat that she offered in front of
her desk.
"Coffee?" She asked, offering him a blue
mug filled with that glorious liquid. Mamoru
nodded hesitantly, not quite sure what he
should do next. Slowly, he lifted the cup to
his lips, taking a tiny sip.
Gah! The stuff was cold! He swallowed
the dark liquid carefully. Not wanting to be
impolite to his possible savior, he took
another sip…and another…then a gulp… He winced
a little…yeesh! This stuff tasted terrible
cold! What was this? The remaining laundry
water from old socks?
Usagi took a sip from the cup of coffee
she retrieved for herself, made a face and put
it down again on her gargantuan desk. She took
one look at Mamoru. How could he stand this
stuff? She smiled pleasantly at him. "So,"
she drawled, "Motoki tells me you've had
experience as a model..."
Mamoru nearly choked at that statement.
Pausing, he swallowed the latest gulp of the
sock water and nodded, a false smile creasing
his face in attempt to hide his fib.
"Ah, so you don't mind the early hours
and the long days..." Usagi murmured to
herself, as Mamoru gave her another all-too-
innocent smiles.
"No, no, Ms. Tsukino! I *love* early
mornings! Long days are built into my system,"
Mamoru cringed inwardly...that was one *cheesy*
way of impressing a talent agent. Usagi
swerved in her leather recliner seat, and
stared at him slack-jawed.
"Honestly, I don't understand how you
people do it," she said, turning into a ghastly
shade of white. "Uh-uh…" She shook her head
like a small child refusing to eat their
vegetables—or anything green, for that matter.
Well, that went well! Mamoru thought
sarcastically, pushing his enthusiasm back to
the closet where it had crawled from.
"Do you have some pictures from photo
shoots then?" Usagi asked, ready to pencil in
his answer on a pad of torn papers.
"Umm...no."
Usagi stared at him.
"Commercials?"
"No..."
"School pictures?!"
Mamoru shook his head.
Usagi heaved a sigh, slowly, as if she
were controlling her non-existant temper. She
turned her eyes heavenward and flung the pad of
paper behind her. "I'm doomed," she said in a
condemning tone.
"It can't be *that* bad," Mamoru said
soothingly, wanting to pat the poor girl on the
back. He heard her mutter something about
"Motoki" and "Why me?"
She started wailing incoherent words
about ringing Motoki's neck and it being
useless.
"Glad someone feels the same way I do,"
shrugged Mamoru. Although, it did break his
heart to see the girl in the tormenting
situation she was in. "How about this,"
offered Mamoru, "we'll go out to lunch and get
something to calm down the nerves? Come on,"
he wheedled, "You can pick the restaurant."
Almost instantly, the wailing stopped,
followed by the sound of an ambitious Usagi
stuffing papers into her bag.
"Let's go," she replied autonomously.
Mamoru raised his eyebrows. Talking
about change of heart...
***
They were green, *very* green. In some
sections, it was transparent, in others, opaque
and seemingly impenetrable. Their sloped forms
curved into a river of thick goo of some
unknown source.
Mamoru raised his eyebrows. He didn't
order vegetables, or at least, he didn't
remember doing so. He prodded at one of the
creatures with a fine silver fork. Either it
was his imagination or he was very tired, but
he could've sworn the thing blinked back at
him. He dropped his fork with a quiet thump on
the linen-covered table.
Usagi looked up from her large bowl of
cream mushroom soup. "Something wrong?" She
asked, spoon pausing midway en route to her
mouth.
Her lunch companion blinked. "Huh? Oh,
this?" He quickly picked up the fork (and
almost spilled his water in the process) and
pointed at his fork at his swamp-colored meal.
The plate seemed more appetizing than its
contents...
"Eat up then, you need to eat," she said
firmly, as if stating a law of life. Skipping
lunch, to her, was sacrilegious.
"Ehh..." He poked at one of the green
creatures again.
Usagi stared at him, "Go on..." she
nudged him on.
He punctured one of the creatures with
his weapon of choice; the fork. They were
soft, he admitted, as he lifted on off the
china plate with a disgusting squelching sound.
Slowly, he lifted the morsel of green
*something-or-other* to his mouth. Opening his
parched lips slowly, in went the morsel, and
out went Mamoru's sanity, or so he thought. He
must be crazy to eat something like this,
especially for a job. He chewed once, then
twice, then swallowed with an audible gulping
sound. They tasted rather salty, like swamp
water, and smelled rather salty, like swamp
water, and the meal itself looked like (you
guessed it!) swamp water.
What possessed me to order this? Mamoru
thought, regretting every single moment between
leaving Usagi's office and to this ongoing
point. Then again, the only thing he could
understand on the menu was this particular
entrée, which meant spiced peas, or so he
thought. In fact, that entrée did sound rather
suspicious to him. Why would a restaurant
serve "spiced peas"? But *no*, he didn't
listen to that little voice inside his head
telling him *not* to order anything outside a
glass of water.
"Eat them, they're a novelty," Usagi
smiled brightly at him and returned to her
soup. Now all Mamoru had to do was figure out
exactly *what* that novelty was.
However, what captured his attention most
was that smile of hers. For once, during that
day, she'd flashed him a truly generous smile.
Well, it was probably brought upon by food, but
for some reason, unknown to Mamoru, it seemed
to brighten his day a little. Those regrets
that he had suddenly dissipated into thin air
as the creatures on his plate beckoned to him.
***
Lunch did a number on his wallet, but
Mamoru saw the meal as a task, perhaps even a
test. However, this test would leave him with
his trusty anti-stomach pain medication friend.
Somehow, he managed to trudge himself back to
Usagi's office. He flopped himself comfortably
on the seat by the table and proceeded to get
back to the interview.
"Where was I?" Usagi pulled out a bunch
of other papers from the ground. She turned
one upside down and grinned. "yes, photos..."
Mamoru cringed. "Don't have any, sorry."
Usagi gave him that same stare she did before
lunch before nodding curtly.
"Take off your clothes." A simple
statement, one that meant the world to Mamoru.
"Wha...?" Mamoru gaped at her. She
didn't just say what I thought she did, did
she?
"Take off your clothes," she said firmly.
Mamoru continued to gape at her. A
demanding woman, indeed. However, he wasn't
really interested in a steamy relationship with
this woman...yet. He suppressed the urge to
grin devilishly, but nevertheless, his lips
twitched slightly upwards.
"Don't be a hentai! I'm not going to
defile your dignity or anything," she sighed,
rolling her eyes. "I need to see your
physique. After all, you are going for the
cupid role, ne?"
Mamoru blushed; a rare event that occurs
once every few years or so. Gingerly, he
peeled off his clothes, exposing his torso.
And what a torso indeed...Usagi's eyes
widened. I wonder what...no! Usagi held her
hormones back, getting back to the business at
hand. (Interesting business, ne?)
Mamoru had a gorgeous figure. His skin
was pulled tautly over firm muscles and sinews.
He had the classic Greek physique; which was
naturally perfect for the role of cupid.
They'd better not be looking for the role
of Psyche, Usagi's eyes flattened. I'll ring
whoever...? Wait a moment...where did *this*
thought come from?
"Turn around, please," Usagi murmured,
voice a little husky.
Obediently, Mamoru turned himself around,
rotating a complete 360 degrees for inspection.
"Need the pants off too?" Mamoru asked, then
recorded in his mental agenda to slap himself
for that later.
Usagi gulped, trying miserably to
maintain her calm, collected self.
Fortunately, Mamoru was too embarrassed for
himself to even notice.
"Umm...no, no, it's not necessary," Usagi
managed to say, straightening her collar, which
had suddenly began to feel tight around her
throat.
"So, would I get the part?" Mamoru
asked, sitting himself down on the seat once
more, forgetting to dress. Her answer was more
important than anything at the moment.
"Uhh..." she began. "Yes, yes you do,
Chiba-san." She rose from her seat,
"Congratulations."
However, upon rising from her overgrown
chair, a magazine had decided to land just
where she was about to step, causing her to
slip and have her face meet the lovely desk.
"Ack!" She yelped, landing right
into...Mamoru's arms? She blinked, unable to
get her footing. Mamoru blinked, holding a
rather frazzled Usagi in his bare arms.
The door suddenly opened, revealing
Usagi's receptionist. Both Mamoru and Usagi
held their breaths, the tension growing in the
air around them. The receptionist went to the
desk mechanically, dropped some folders and
left out the door without a single peep or
glance. The door shut with a loud thud as both
Mamoru and Usagi let out a sigh of relief.
However, the door opened again, as Usagi
and Mamoru became still as statues once more.
They looked very much like two people, posing
in an embrace, in the midst of...
"Never mind," the receptionist blinked,
then frowned, then finally shook her head. She
looked from Usagi to Mamoru and then back
again. "I won't even ask..."
The door shut again for the last time
that afternoon, however, Usagi had the feeling
that her co-workers wouldn't let this itty bit
of juicy gossip out of their grasp. It was
going to be a *long* afternoon indeed.
***
Psyche – the wife of Cupid, I think...
Cupid *is* from Greek Mythology, I think...
(Lot's of unsure answers, I know... ^^;;)
mail is nice. (Hint! Hint!) ;)
December 10/2000