Solitary Confinement - chapter two
Notes: Well, here it is! I finally got some time to work on it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope you like this chapter.
I pulled at my shirt for what had to be the fourth time that morning, adjusting it so it was just the right length. Entering the station, I waved absent-mindedly at some familiar faces and tried to ignore the surprised looks I was getting.
I walked into my booth and watched Roz behind the glass, working quietly. She looked awful. Her hair was a mess, she had dark circles underneath her eyes, and she would stop her work every few seconds to wince and hold her head in pain.
"Good morning, Roz," I said, walking to her side of the booth and watching her carefully. "I'm guessing last night's vodka isn't being too kind this morning." She glared at me, as kind as my words had sounded, and collapsed in her office chair.
"I feel like a truck ran over me and left me for dead, Fras," she began, but stopped when she caught sight of what I was wearing. "Wait a minute, what's going on?" she said, her voice rising in something caught between terror and excitement. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"Like what?" I asked innocently, looking down at my attire.
"Frasier, the last time you wore jeans and a t-shirt to work we ended up having to rush you to the hospital," Roz said slowly, standing up and resting a warm palm against my forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"
I pulled her hand away, irritated. "I'm fine!" I snapped. "Why is it that everyone else can dress casually to work but I get weird looks if I don't wear an expensive suit?"
"Well, it's just that it's not really your style," Roz answered. "Not that the jeans don't suit you well. I mean, you look great, it's just not... expected of you." She threw me a sympathetic look, then turned to her desk to down another Tylenol. "So, what's with the jeans anyway?" she asked between swallows of water.
"If you must know, I'm trying to let out my fun side," I said softly, and watched Roz's face as she tried to keep from laughing. "That great female musician is coming to the station today to do a guest spot on Jennifer's show, remember?"
"Oh, you mean Ness Kelly? That's today?" Roz immediately pulled out a compact mirror from her purse and began to touch up her makeup. "Great, the most gorgeous twenty-something year-old in Seattle is coming to the station today," she whined, pulling at her hair, "the day I show up looking like a heroin addicted Albert Einstein."
"Oh calm down, Roz, you don't look that bad," I assured her, straightening out her skirt. "Besides, she's a pretty big star, we probably won't even get the chance to see her."
Just as I had finished my sentence, the door to the booth swung open and there stood Kenny, grinning. "Have a got a surprise for you guys!" he practically yelled, oozing with excitement. "She's here, doc, and she's a huge fan!"
Ness Kelly, Seattle's most prominent alternative musician, walked through the door. She smiled at me and extended her hand. "Hello, Dr. Crane, it's wonderful to meet you."
She was breathtaking. Decked out in a purple blouse and black jeans, her raven hair was tied loosely back and her green eyes shone out at me. "Hello, Ms. Kelly," I stuttered, shaking her hand gently, "the pleasure is all mine." That only made her smile wider.
"Hi, Ms. Kelly, my name's Roz Doyle. I'm Frasier's producer," Roz explained, shaking Ness's hand and giving me a weird look. "I love your music, you have such a beautiful voice."
"Oh, thank you," Ness said softly, releasing another of her dazzling white smiles. "I love your show, I listen to it everyday," she said to the both of us.
We both thanked her graciously. "So how long will you be doing this segment on Jennifer Harland's show?" I asked, my voice sounding oddly high- pitched.
"Only a week," Ness answered. "I'm really excited, I'm sure it will be a lot of fun." Glancing down at her watch, she frowned and looked directly at me. "Unfortunately, I have to run, I have a meeting with the station owner. It was great meeting you."
I watched her as she left, finding it hard to breathe. "She's gorgeous," I whispered, holding onto the counter for support.
"Sure is," Roz agreed, smirking. "She's a little young for you, though, Frasier." She patted me on the back, pulling the cap off of her bottle of Tylenol. "I hate to have to say this, but you could be her father."
"Look who's talking," I snapped. "How old was your date last night, Roz? I forget if he was eighteen or nineteen."
"He was twenty-seven," she answered angrily, "but that doesn't count because I was set up with him."
"I take it the date didn't go well, seeing as how I ended up driving you home."
"No, it went horribly," she answered softly. "Thanks for coming and picking me up, Frasier. You're a wonderful friend," she leaned over and hugged me. Surprised by the sudden show of affection, I barely had time to hug her back before she pulled away. "If only all men were like you."
Next chapter we'll see what happens with Niles.
Notes: Well, here it is! I finally got some time to work on it. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I hope you like this chapter.
I pulled at my shirt for what had to be the fourth time that morning, adjusting it so it was just the right length. Entering the station, I waved absent-mindedly at some familiar faces and tried to ignore the surprised looks I was getting.
I walked into my booth and watched Roz behind the glass, working quietly. She looked awful. Her hair was a mess, she had dark circles underneath her eyes, and she would stop her work every few seconds to wince and hold her head in pain.
"Good morning, Roz," I said, walking to her side of the booth and watching her carefully. "I'm guessing last night's vodka isn't being too kind this morning." She glared at me, as kind as my words had sounded, and collapsed in her office chair.
"I feel like a truck ran over me and left me for dead, Fras," she began, but stopped when she caught sight of what I was wearing. "Wait a minute, what's going on?" she said, her voice rising in something caught between terror and excitement. "Why are you dressed like that?"
"Like what?" I asked innocently, looking down at my attire.
"Frasier, the last time you wore jeans and a t-shirt to work we ended up having to rush you to the hospital," Roz said slowly, standing up and resting a warm palm against my forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"
I pulled her hand away, irritated. "I'm fine!" I snapped. "Why is it that everyone else can dress casually to work but I get weird looks if I don't wear an expensive suit?"
"Well, it's just that it's not really your style," Roz answered. "Not that the jeans don't suit you well. I mean, you look great, it's just not... expected of you." She threw me a sympathetic look, then turned to her desk to down another Tylenol. "So, what's with the jeans anyway?" she asked between swallows of water.
"If you must know, I'm trying to let out my fun side," I said softly, and watched Roz's face as she tried to keep from laughing. "That great female musician is coming to the station today to do a guest spot on Jennifer's show, remember?"
"Oh, you mean Ness Kelly? That's today?" Roz immediately pulled out a compact mirror from her purse and began to touch up her makeup. "Great, the most gorgeous twenty-something year-old in Seattle is coming to the station today," she whined, pulling at her hair, "the day I show up looking like a heroin addicted Albert Einstein."
"Oh calm down, Roz, you don't look that bad," I assured her, straightening out her skirt. "Besides, she's a pretty big star, we probably won't even get the chance to see her."
Just as I had finished my sentence, the door to the booth swung open and there stood Kenny, grinning. "Have a got a surprise for you guys!" he practically yelled, oozing with excitement. "She's here, doc, and she's a huge fan!"
Ness Kelly, Seattle's most prominent alternative musician, walked through the door. She smiled at me and extended her hand. "Hello, Dr. Crane, it's wonderful to meet you."
She was breathtaking. Decked out in a purple blouse and black jeans, her raven hair was tied loosely back and her green eyes shone out at me. "Hello, Ms. Kelly," I stuttered, shaking her hand gently, "the pleasure is all mine." That only made her smile wider.
"Hi, Ms. Kelly, my name's Roz Doyle. I'm Frasier's producer," Roz explained, shaking Ness's hand and giving me a weird look. "I love your music, you have such a beautiful voice."
"Oh, thank you," Ness said softly, releasing another of her dazzling white smiles. "I love your show, I listen to it everyday," she said to the both of us.
We both thanked her graciously. "So how long will you be doing this segment on Jennifer Harland's show?" I asked, my voice sounding oddly high- pitched.
"Only a week," Ness answered. "I'm really excited, I'm sure it will be a lot of fun." Glancing down at her watch, she frowned and looked directly at me. "Unfortunately, I have to run, I have a meeting with the station owner. It was great meeting you."
I watched her as she left, finding it hard to breathe. "She's gorgeous," I whispered, holding onto the counter for support.
"Sure is," Roz agreed, smirking. "She's a little young for you, though, Frasier." She patted me on the back, pulling the cap off of her bottle of Tylenol. "I hate to have to say this, but you could be her father."
"Look who's talking," I snapped. "How old was your date last night, Roz? I forget if he was eighteen or nineteen."
"He was twenty-seven," she answered angrily, "but that doesn't count because I was set up with him."
"I take it the date didn't go well, seeing as how I ended up driving you home."
"No, it went horribly," she answered softly. "Thanks for coming and picking me up, Frasier. You're a wonderful friend," she leaned over and hugged me. Surprised by the sudden show of affection, I barely had time to hug her back before she pulled away. "If only all men were like you."
Next chapter we'll see what happens with Niles.