Act 2, Scene 24

Jameson's office, the Bugle. Night. Builders are packing up their stuff, putting the final touches to the repairs to his wall from the Goblin's bomb. One of them nudges another one. The second builder swallows and approaches Jameson's desk. Jonah is in the middle of an extremely heated phonecall.

We only hear Jonah say the following lines, as the whole time we're staying with the builder as he very, very nervously approaches JJ's desk. We see him get increasingly nervous.

JAMESON: No, you listen to me. I want round-the-clock updates on my son's condition. I don't care if he's in some god-damned secret military hospital, on the aft deck of the Titanic, or halfway to the centre of Mars - I want to know how my son is doing every ten minutes on the dot, or I open up a certain file and review if certain pictures would be in the public's interest to publish. Is that clear enough for ya, Mister President?

At those last two words, the builder performs a swift U-turn and makes a break for it. He has his hand on the doorhandle when-

JAMESON: You there!

The builder turns.

BUILDER: Y-yes?

JAMESON: Do I employ you to bring me coffee?

BUILDER: Um...no?

JAMESON: Well find me somebody I do employ to bring me some, you idiot! And get the hell out of my office!

The builder exits as if all the fires of Hades are after him. He passes Eddie Brock, who puts a hand on his chest to stop him. He has a Starbucks-type coffee container in his hand.

EDDIE: Is he in a good mood?

The builder simply laughs pityingly in Eddie's face and scampers onward.

EDDIE: I can do this.

He pushes onward into Jameson's office and sits down in the chair opposite Jonah. Jonah looks him up and down, totally astonished that ANYONE would dare have the cheek to exist at the present moment.

JAMESON: Where's my coffee?

EDDIE: Uh...right here, sir.

He hands him the coffee.

JAMESON: Good work, son. You'll go far. Now get the hell out.

EDDIE: Uh sir...Eddie Brock. You requested a meeting with me?

JAMESON: (taking a swig of the coffee and pulling a face) Ugh! You're fired!

EDDIE: I can get you a better one...

JAMESON: Not for the coffee, you idiot! Your column isn't working out. Bad reviews, and celebrities seem to think you're a...

He flicks through papers on his desk until he plucks the requisite page. He holds it up and reads from it.

JAMESON: '...desperate, cloying, bumbling fool who'd need an injection of charm to bring him up to a sleazeball'. Tough luck. Now scoot - I promised a guy your desk and he needs it by tomorrow morning.

Eddie has gone deathly pale.

EDDIE: Wait a minute...you're telling me I'm fired?

JAMESON: Despite that keen journalistic sense, yes.

EDDIE: But I have tomorrow's column ready! I can...I can change it, improve it-

JAMESON: (getting up and shepherding Eddie to the door)Type's set already for tomorrow. It'll be your last, so make it a good one.

EDDIE: I need another chance, please!

JAMESON: Son, you need a miracle.

The door slams. Eddie walks through the crowded chaotic office like a dead man walking, in a daze. One of the secretaries, Betty, calls to him.

BETTY: Someone to see you, Eddie.

EDDIE: Tell him to beat it. I'm gone.

He reaches his desk. Someone's sitting in his chair, facing toward the window and the world outside. Eddie's frown of annoyance at this intrustion evaporates somewhat when the chair spins around to reveal Harry Osborn, smiling broadly.

HARRY: Eddie Brock, have I got a story for you...