Author's Note: Again, I seem to get stalled every few chapters or so. But I'm back so let's see where the Giant Wheel takes us this time. Apologies for the short chapter; the next will be longer.

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Arthur yawned hugely behind his hand and leaned more heavily on the rickety table behind him.

Stone was at his most animated, charming the hip young reporter sitting in a gilt chair across from him. The young man had stars in his eyes, sitting there with his hair set just so and his narrow black tie stylishly loosened over his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

The Eighties… dear God, what a dreary decade! No colour, no passion!

Arthur yawned again.

"Tired?"

The voice startled him, made him sit straighter and blink the boredom away. "Wha'? Oh. No, I was just…" he offered a humourless smile, "… just thinking."

Tommy nodded and turned back to the reporter looking curiously between the two of them. "That's all, then," he said firmly, "Good of you to drop by. Anything else?"

The reporter took this as the polite dismissal it was and smiled, standing up as quickly as he dared. He muttered his thanks and his awe and scurried away, shooting one last admiring look back as Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Bloody waste, isn't it?" Tommy commented suddenly. Grey eyes were fixed on the door. "All those pretty things, trying to be hip and new. Ghastly."

"Thought it was your scene," Arthur commented non-committally.

"My following, not my scene," Stone said, standing up and walking slowly to the mirror set above the mantelpiece. He dragged a hand through his impeccable hair and tightened the skin around his eyes in disdain. Wrinkles. He hated them, even though they were still tiny and hard to notice. But he knew they were there. He settled his jacket, watching Arthur watch him in the mirror. "Any questions so far?"

Dark eyes blinked.

"Questions, Art. Your article?"

"Oh." Arthur got his brain wrapped firmly around the concept. "No. No questions."

Tommy Stone grinned as he turned around, shaking his head in mocking accusation. "That bad, eh? Come on! It can't be getting you down so soon."

Arthur's usual response was to resent being laughed at, or condescended to, and he usually wanted to leave straight away. Today was no exception. Watching the fraud taking place made him as bitterly unhappy as knowing the truth in the first place. At one time this would have been a dream. Arthur would have pinched himself and held his breath, praying to every God he knew- and quite a few he didn't- that he didn't make a fool of himself in front of Brian Slade. But with Tommy Stone… perhaps hero worship was all it had been, he sighed cynically, not even respect for an artist. Just a good, old-fashioned crush on a gorgeous celebrity.

Stone was still watching him with those disturbingly unnatural grey eyes. Those eyes couldn't be hidden, Arthur realized. The same eyes there that he had once seen in his wildest daydreams. "Something wrong, Art?"

"Stop calling me that, Stone," Arthur snapped reflexively.

"Get off your high horse, Art, and give me a little help here. I'm trying to be nice!"

"I don't need you to be nice to me."

Great! The rock star kept a discreetly grim face but did a brief victory dance in his head. Arthur Stewart, reporter for the Herald and bane of Tommy Stone's existence, had just walked straight into his trap with his eyes shut. Just like a cat that follows a bit of yarn being twitched at it. Insanely predictable, almost. "Look," Stone finally growled, "You don't want to be friendly, that's okay with me. I'll survive. But I made a deal, Mr. Stewart, and I'm not backing away from it. From now on you can make your own way through the rigmarole of my life, but I want to get this bloody article out of the way so I can focus on my music."

He walked closer, deliberately standing a scowling arm's length away from the stiff, black-clad figure gazing at him with narrowed dark eyes. "So we will go out tomorrow evening," he seethed, "And we will have a drink together, and you will ask me anything you goddamned wish. After that, you're on your own. Got me?"

Stone spun on his heel and stalked out, already shouting for Shannon even though she was probably in the next room anyway. He left Arthur there, silent and stiff and just a little taken-aback. The man bit his lip to keep the smile from his face.

Arthur was all too easy.