stew ackerley needs purpose. (stewinit) wrote in allswell, @ 2011-05-06 16:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, *threads/logs, -- may 2011, ritchie coote, stewart ackerley |
Characters: Stew Ackerley, Ritchie Coote [& Damian NPC]
Setting: Friday afternoon
Rating: PG-13ish
Summary: Stew's got another job now.
Stewart had to admit that he might have been just a bit more interested since he first stopped in the WWN to retrieve an application from the producer of Man Speaking. He’d let it sit on the kitchen counter for about a week and a half before actually filling if out, but that had more to do with the fact that he hadn’t yet decided if he was actually going to do it. Even after that conversation with the blonde. And then he had filled it out, and he’d left it on the kitchen table because he hadn’t been sure about handing it in. That was when -- while on one of her visits to “check up on him” (which was just code for “see if Andrew’s around”) -- he got his sister’s advice. So he’d settled. And handed it in. Even while telling the producer how lucky he was that he was even getting it. Even then, he’d kept up work as usual as Temptation, not really expecting one but still something just short of pleasantly surprised that he’d gotten the owl for an interview. And that he’d apparently aced the interview (which didn’t happen that often, believe him) because here he was, on his way up to the correct floor to meet the other original hosts personally. This was going to be a joy, he was sure. The thought made him roll his eyes, even as he leaned against the wall of the lift and waited for the doors to open. He guessed he could have put a bit more effort into looking professional, but come on. Jeans and a shirt was perfectly reasonable for a show that came on in the middle of the night. Plus it was the only way he was going to make this two-jobs things work. At least until he could cut his hours back at Temptation. But that wasn't the task at hand, so Stew instead concentrated on finding the right room once the doors to the lift opened and he stepped off. It had to be said, both Ritchie and Damien weren’t much looking forward to the meeting either. Damien, because he felt that bringing in a host purely because of his sexuality would entirely change the dynamic of the show and thus damage the listener demographic. Ritchie, because he felt that the novelty value was not only patronising to them, the presenters, but to the listeners and even to the new guy himself. He was tactful, sure, but not a fan of populist bullshit like he thought this decision might well be. Still, he hadn’t been on the interview panel, and the producer seemed to think New Boy (as Ritchie had christened him mentally) was good, so the younger man decided to give him a chance. Most likely just the one, mind you. Sprawled in an arm chair in the corner of the office, Ritchie looked for all the world like any other bloke lounging at home would. It wasn’t a formal meeting, merely an introduction, so he wore the usual clothes he would to do the show - jeans, a clean t-shirt and a hooded jumper. He carried a muggle ringbound notebook in one hand and a quill in the other - his only visible concession to being the young wizard he was - and absently fiddled with his wedding ring as he jotted down a note to Rose for later. Just when Stew was thinking that he might have gotten off on the wrong floor and ended up lost -- which would have been a sodding brilliant way to start this entire mess off, really -- he came to the door with the same number as the one written on the slightly crumpled sheet of parchment he held in his hand. Putting it in his back pocket, he stepped up to the door and raised a hand to knock. Just in case he was wrong, he didn't want to go disturbing anyone. "Please don't let this turn out to be shit," he muttered under his breath, because honestly, with his luck in most things -- like work and sexual partners -- it sort of needed to be said. Now if he could get this to work, he might actually have something to go with. It'd make his mum happy at least. Something about how Ackerleys speak their mind (except Jessie, the oddball) and how he was perfect for radio because of that. Which he doubted, but whatever. Mums will be mums, and there's never telling them any different. Hearing a knock at the door, Ritchie was the first to look up, though he was the furthest away. One of the interns - a short, weedy looking thing whose name Ritchie couldn’t remember - was quickly dispatched by the producer to open the door, and out of courtesy, he put the notebook and quill down on the arm of the chair as the New Boy was ushered inside. The blond stood up and made a couple of strides towards him, prompting the other presenter to do the same in order to greet him. “Hi” he said, keeping it simple, knowing that if anyone was the type to make a speech around here, it was the producer. “I’m Ritchie” he added, thinking that there was something about this bloke he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Did he look familiar? Stew guessed it was the right room, then, since no one was giving him that look of wondering just what he was doing there. Or, well, okay, he was still sort of seeing that look in a few faces as he stepped into the room. And while that probably should have been one of those things a person found uncomfortable, Stew knew why he was here, and it was to meet the team. He had every right to be here and if someone had a problem with it, it was just that. Their problem. Stew really didn't give much of a shit himself. His attention as first caught by the blond that came to greet him first and Stew gave a slight nod, saying, "Stew. Short for Stewart. Hi." What was it about introductions that always made them sound awkward even when that wasn't you were going for, Stew wondered even as he gave Ritchie another once over with a brief frown - and, no, it wasn't an "I find you attractive" look, because even Stew had limits (and besides, there was a wedding ring) - before dealing with the other host who Stew was starting to get the feeling was The Twat between the two. Once the other host introduced himself, Stew did the same and then rubbed his hands together and looking towards the producer he'd been dealing with. "All right, so how exactly it this supposed to work?" He guessed he could have introduced himself to the interns and whatnot, but there was definitely time for that later. Ritchie and Damien had both gone to sit down after introducing themselves, and the ever watchful Ritchie turned and gave his colleague a sharp look. It was a look that said play nice, because even though he had his own doubts, he was professional enough - and he cared enough about the show - to want this to work. He turned his head back towards the centre of the room as presenters and crew sat around the large table at the centre of the office, all waiting for the producer to speak. “Well, most of us here don’t really know you very well, not being privy to the interview process” began the nervous looking boss - interrupted by a muttered “too bloody right” from Damien, which earned him another glare from Ritchie - “...um, so, why don’t you tell us all a bit about yourself?” Stewart took a seat as well then, raising an eyebrow at the host that was Damien briefly before returning his attention to the one he assumed as in charge of this meeting. Leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest, he was possibly the perfect picture of comfortable even with the fact that pretty much everyone was looking at him and waiting for him to speak. Which was cool with Stew. He talked. And he liked having an audience. Anecdotes weren't as fun if there was no one to be entertained by them. "Tell you a bit about myself, yeah? Well my full name is Stewart Ackerley, and my mum is one of the ladies on Let's Talk About... -- but not the bint that's always saying the stupid shit, she's the older lady who talks about her sex life whenever the opportunity arrives for it, and she convinced me to actually get an application. Otherwise you would have gone another five or so months without filling the spot because who the hell sends out a bulletin for 'a gay one?' Does that even sound right to anyone?" He'd gone off on a bit of a tangent, but he paused to actually get back to what he'd intended to say. "Anyway, I left Hogwarts in 2001, was in Ravenclaw. Head Boy for my year, too, surprisingly. I've got a part time job as a bartender in Temptation and that's after being fired from a few desk jobs because the shit was boring. Don't ask me about fashion because I don't know anything about it. Don't give me any looks as if I'm going to hit on you, because believe me -- I'm not. And if you've got a problem with the fact that I pretty much say anything I'm thinking, that's your problem, not mine. I don't actually give a shit." Ritchie was polite enough to pay attention to Stewart’s introductory speech, though the further into it he got, the more often his eyes flickered over to Damien to gauge his reaction - and the more he did this, the bigger his own grin became. He did not look happy now that the New Boy’s personality was beginning to show itself. Damien had traditionally been the louder, more blunt one of the pairing, and the fact that this bloke, Stewart, could well be a rival... Forgetting his own curiosity about Stew looking familiar, Ritchie thought to himself that this could either be very interesting, or go badly wrong... "Anything else?" Stew asked, pretty sure that as far as introductions went, it wasn't his most outgoing or polite, but considering that bulletin, he figured it was better to nip all the bullshit in the bud before it actually became a thing. There were a lot of things Stewart tolerated, or just didn't get up in arms about, but being stereotyped wasn't one of them. And he'd be damned if he let it happen where he worked, too. He'd also noticed, through his speech that the host Damien seemed less than pleased with his presence, which he honestly wasn't too surprised about and had sort of expected to happen even before today. But, as Stew had said in his own speech, that wasn't his problem, now was it? So, all right, maybe the thought made him smirk just a little. Ritchie, the producer, producer’s assistant and the three interns (one each now, Ritchie noted - nice one) all politely shook their heads as Stew finished speaking, feeling that for now, his introduction. Damien, however, didn’t seem to agree. “So, was your mum really the primary influence behind your application?” he asked, the beginnings of a sneer on his face, “because that doesn’t much sound like you really wanted the job, to me.” At this point, the producer was beginning to look increasingly nervous, the interns were looking back and forth as if at a tennis game, and Ritchie could be heard audibly muttering “fucking hell, Damien, you idiot” and rubbing his temples in anticipation of an oncoming migraine. Stew was quiet for a moment as he gave Damien a look, an eyebrow raising. He guessed, this was what it was going to be for a bit, with Damien somehow thinking that he was going to... actually Stew had no idea what Damien thought he was trying to do by asking that, but sure, whatever. Stew would go with it. "You must have hearing and comprehension issues. I picked up the application because she thought it would be a good idea, but she had nothing to do with me filling it out." Stewart finally replied, almost unaffected. His mum the wannabe psychiatrist would say that obviously Damien felt threatened and was trying to scare him off, but that wasn't exactly how Stew worked, so he'd have to do better than that. As Damien scoffed by way of reply, Ritchie began to sink lower into his chair, making eye contact with the producer sitting directly across from him, and put his fingers to the side of his head, as if cocking a pistol. When his senior colleague began to actually speak, he mimed shooting himself in the head - a muggleborn through and through, really - and slumped down still further, causing one of the interns to let out a half concealed giggle and and earning himself a glare from Damien, clearly unimpressed at the lack of the support. “I have no issues of any sort, though thank you for such a lovely remark” replied the older wizard. “I can’t help but noticing, however, that you still haven’t answered the question. All you’ve done now is tell us that she had nothing to do with you filling it out, so what did make you complete it and hand it in? I don’t think that’s an unreasonable thing to ask” he added, looking around the table, suddenly going “oof!” at a kick from someone sitting nearby him. “Though naturally, I’m sure we appreciate the elaboration” he added, obviously saying so in order to supplicate the unknown but pissed off attendee of the meeting. "How sure are you of that, because I've listened to more than enough of past episodes that I think there should be some reasonable doubt as far as that is concerned." Here was the thing. As of right now, Stew didn't like Damien. Not even a little. And when Stew didn't like a person, it sort of made his... tactlessness even more obvious that the usual day to day did, like now. "And while I'm sure you'd appreciate the elaboration, I can let you know now that I'm not going to give it. The obvious conclusion would have been that I apparently decided of my own free will to finish the application and the fact that you're trying to make it seem as if I'm hiding some secret as to my motivations says more about you than it does about me. But please, ask more unnecessary questions. It doesn't make you look threatened at all." Apparently, Stew wouldn't even get what he wanted in having things go pleasantly at least every once in a while. But then, hadn't he expected that? And, at least he could say that it wasn't looking as if Ritchie was going to be a pain in his ass. He supposed that was a plus. Ritchie, meanwhile, wasn’t looking much at all. As Stew had continued on, he had pulled his wand from the pocket of his hoodie and silently cast a disillusionment charm upon himself - not a brilliant one, but one that was enough to make him begin to fade into his surroundings. As his producer looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he finally sat up, his lazy Essex drawl sounding as switched off and unimpressed with proceedings as doubtless others in the room were feeling. “Oh, you know, don’t mind me” he said, removing the charm as he addressed the producer and Damien in particular, having made his point. “I’m just sitting here while somebody” he said, looking pointedly at Damien, “tries to mark his territory like my nan’s elderly Jack Russell. Just don’t piss all over the office or it’ll be more than this ‘meeting’ that stinks”. He didn’t need to have continued beyond the remark about Damien marking his territory, but by adding the comment about a weak and feeble dog, he was deliberately drawing comparisons with a senior colleague who was clearly feeling more and more undermined as the afternoon went on. Stew could be stubborn when he wanted to be, and at this point, even if he absolutely hated working on the show, he'd stay on just to piss Damien off every other day by his mere presence and what he stood for. Even so, he couldn't help but to laugh at Ritchie's comparison as he'd never heard anything that sounded more truthful in his life. Especially as Damien has refused to let go of the circumstances of him applying, like a dog to a bone. "So does this make the part of the meeting where asking me questions in order to... I don't even know what the point of that just now was, actually..." Stew paused for a moment, frowning. "Anyway, does that make it over. Does everyone know enough about me for the moment?" Ritchie himself was about to reply “Yeah, I think so...” but was cut off by the non-too-surprising occurrence of Damien getting up from his seat, gathering his papers and heading towards the office door. “Frankly, I’ve seen enough” said the older man, casting a vague attempt at a withering look over his shoulder at no-one in particular before leaving. There was a silent, pregnant pause for a couple of seconds before Ritchie piped up again. “So, that went well, didn’t it?” He might have been annoyed, and maybe even a bit insulted as well, but that wasn't all that obvious considering that Stew laughed at the entire thing. The fact that Damien had walked out in the middle of everything, when he only got what he dished out and apparently couldn't handle, as well as Ritchie's comment on what had just transpired. Even if this was going to turn out to be a complete and utter train wreck, there was no doubting it would be an entertaining train wreck. "And it will only get worse." Stew commented, fully believing as much. “Nah, he’s a bit of a pansy, really, much as he doesn’t like to admit it” Ritchie responded, casually examining his fingernails. “I find calling him a dickhead usually works nicely when I’m in a shit mood. Kind of therapeutic, like” he said, picking up his notebook and quill from the other chair and carrying on his note-writing now that the tension in the room had gone. “Just... just don’t do it on air?” the long suffering producer interjected, hopefully and resignedly at the same time. "I think I might prefer twatwaffle myself. It's unique." he replied to Ritchie before giving the producer something of an apologetic look. "Wouldn't be able to promise that. I think it, it's said. Usually in the same second. Would if I could, though... no that's a lie." And even if he hadn't admitted to it being a lie, it was obvious in his voice. Now hopefully his mum would be satisfied. Even if that hadn't been his motivation, it would be lovely if she'd stop dropping hints. Ritchie chuckled to himself at Stew’s choice of curse. “Got to say I won’t be joining you in using that one” he said, in a tone that was half amused and half apologetic. “If I used that word on air, I think I’d be sleeping in the spare room for weeks.” Taking his turn to look at the producer, he raised an eyebrow. “I think you should know by now that nobody on this show really controls their mouth...” "You can stick to dickhead, and I'll keep twatwaffle. It's fine." He almost frowned in confusion of the second part, but then reminded himself that Ritchie was married. Right. "See, relationships. Not my thing. I think I'll stick to one-offs and other things of that nature." There was nothing else for Stew to add, as he was pretty sure that discussing his sex and relationship habits sort of went a way in showing just how much of what he said, Stew didn't really make an effort to reign in. And maybe, after so many years, he partly amused himself with the different reactions he would get from people because of it. “Call me old fashioned, but I kind of like having the missus at home. Different strokes, and all that” Ritchie shrugged as he relaxed in Damien’s absence, continuing to scribble on the pad. “Does me good, y’know?” he said, addressing the room in general at that point, tearing the piece of paper from the pad, rolling it up and sealing it with an elastic band from his pocket, beckoning one of the interns to go and send the owl for him. "Definitely different strokes," Stew said, which was the closest he got to saying how he felt without being offensive, since he guessed he was trying now. Or something. At least for now. He was about close to 100 percent sure that should the whole idea of relationships come up again as a topic of conversation in the future, a more detailed reply would come along with it. Then, looking over to the producer, he asked, "Was that all there is to the meeting, then?" He didn't exactly have anywhere to go right that moment, but if there wasn't more to discuss than Stew verging on being too honest of things in people's personal lives, it would be great to delay that revelation. "I mean, on the agenda and what not?" “Well, I...um, no” stuttered the hapless producer, who looked as though he was currently thinking of handing in his notice there on the spot. “We were sort of planning for the introductions to last a little bit longer, but...” His voice trailed off into the open air, and Ritchie raised his eyebrows in the older man’s direction - thinking that if planning had gone properly from the beginning, perhaps the whole awkward mess could have been avoided. Stew was sort of expecting the producer to have... more of a presence. Or something Instead of looking as if he was more unsure than Stew when he'd been there much longer than Stew himself. Stew only gave the man a look at that, nodding slowly. "Right." He paused. "So is it all right if I go, then? Because as much as I'd like to try to pretend to love having small talk... especially when it's slightly awkward at best. If I don't have to stay for anything else important..." Ritchie looked at the producer and pointed at Stewart, saying “and if he’s going, I might as well go too... not going to be much of a meeting with ⅓ of the presenting staff here, is it?” To be honest, Ritchie still wasn’t sure about adding one in number to the presenting team. Keeping panels small meant subjects could be properly discussed, which was why he was glad Manspeaking had had two presenters this whole time, as opposed to the larger numbers on other programmes. Having met Stew now, he did wonder where the guy’s passion was. Radio in the wizarding world was sort of a big deal, and this show was Ritchie’s job, so he did hope that Stew was going to have interesting things to say rather than argue back at Damien, as he was sure that Damien was likely to try and antagonise him. The last thing he wanted was for a show he enjoyed doing to go down the toilet. Stew had nothing to add at that, only raising an eyebrow and waiting for the input of the producer. He was very ready to go. He could go to What Goes In and get a quick salad before work at Temptation if he left sometime in the next fifteen minutes. He wasn't sure how this was going to work out, really. He's sort of just went with it. Could be fun, could be a disaster, but that won't be found out until it actually happened, now would it? Ritchie sat back in his chair, tapping the end of his quill against the pad to shed it of the remaining ink in the nib. Or at least, that’s what it looked like he was doing. In reality, this seeming act of concentration was buying him some time as he gathered his thoughts from what remained of the disastrous meeting. He still couldn’t quite think why his new colleague looked so familiar. Had they perhaps met at a party, or something? Stew had given up on figuring out Ritchie, and the double look from earlier. Mainly because he'd realised that there were any number of ways he could remember the other man - Hogwarts, various public outings, it sort of went on, the list. As Stew wasn't a person who liked to put limits on himself. He guessed, if he was going to find out for sure, he'd find out eventually, and that was that on it for him. Another look at the producer and Stew stood. "All right, I'm out then. First show's next week, yeah?" He asked the producer mainly, but he wouldn't turn down an answer from anyone. While he wasn't eager about work, he was pretty eager to see if he really had any talent for this while on air and live. Hypothetical situations from the interview only went so far. Ritchie nodded in agreement as the producer confirmed the date of Stewart’s first show, and he himself began to pack all of his things away that he’d brought with him to the meeting. As he put away the notebook, he paused, his eyes fixed on a random point of the wall as he pondered. An image had jumped into his head, of a dark club, loud music, dancing... He frowned. He couldn’t remember where that place was at all... perhaps it would come back to him later. Quickly shoving the book away and standing up, he put the bag on his shoulder and got ready to leave. He wasn’t sure he wanted to stick around whilst memories were beginning to reappear. With nothing else to be said, Stew took his leave with little more than a wave, heading out the room. It was easier now that he'd already gone through that whole "I have no idea where the fuck I am" thing on the way in, that he found it easier getting to back to the lift. He'd owl his mum later and let her know that he absolutely did not want her to say anything about him on her show. No coming to his defense, none of that. Especially since he'd be naive if he expected this to be the last time he argued with Damien. But now was the time to put those thoughts away and instead concentrate on the upcoming work schedule. And that was why he couldn't quit Temptation. He might go mental if he had to deal with that shit and didn't get the relaxing nights of mixing drinks and watching half-naked bodies, too. This was going to be some fucking experience, overall. |