FIC: Five Muppets Isaac's Pretty Sure He Never Hired
So.
I was asking people last night. What fic would be good enough to make up for the fact that I am crazy and needy lately and make people love me and stuff?
(Yes. I know. I know. Shut UP.)
Anyway. barely_bean promised that people will love me again if I write Sports Night/Muppets fic.
...*waves white flag*
Title: Five Muppets Isaac's Pretty Sure He Never Hired
Author: Amy (alexia@innergeekdom.net)
Fandom: Sports Night/Muppets
Rating: PG or PG-13. The latter, I guess; the word "fuck" is used.
Disclaimer: Sorkin and Henson. Neither are me.
Summary: Sports and felt. It's a match made in heaven. Gen. Mostly.
Spoilers: Vague, for everything, for both. I jump around both timelines like I am writing on a pogo stick.
Notes: Um, I blame the evil trifecta of barely_bean, scrunchy, and slodwick. Because it is their fault and they are BAD PEOPLE WHO MADE ME DO IT through a complex procedure involving IMs, illustrations, and HEAVILY BIASED LJ polls. And stuff.
Not so much "beta'd" as "I made jadelennox skim one draft and tell me it's not a complete failure". All of the many remaining mistakes are, obviously, mine.
2,321 words
one.
"Dammit, Casey!" Dan shook his head. "We leave you for an hour. An hour."
"What's going on?" Jeremy whispered to Natalie, who was watching them avidly.
"Shh. If you talk I miss something." She held out a hand, though, offering him a few kernels of microwaved popcorn.
"We were getting lunch!" Dan continued. "Do you know what you could have done in that hour?"
"Anything but arrange a date with her?" Casey guessed. He didn't seem able to keep the smirk off his face, but that didn't mean anything except that he was Casey.
"Anything but arrange a date with her!" Dan exploded. "One hour, Casey! Nothing ever happens in an hour! It takes more than an hour for a soccer team to fail to score! It takes more than an hour for those freakish chess tournaments they sometimes air when there's no actual sports activity! Can you not look after yourself for *one hour*? Do we need to arrange anchor-sitting sessions?"
"It's a date," Casey said. "It's one date. With a woman who is pretty, and smart, and actually knows something about sports."
"She does not."
"She's watched us every night for years. She was a big fan of our coverage of the Super Bowl."
"Let me guess. She watches for the commercials."
"Lots of people watch for the commercials. They're very good commercials."
"I wasn't saying they were bad commercials."
"I'm just saying, you shouldn't be insulting the Super Bowl commercials. You couldn't have come up with the talking frogs."
"I didn't much try."
"Chew softer!" Natalie hissed at Jeremy. "If they notice we're here, they'll stop."
"One hour," Dan said. "One hour and you set up a date with this woman."
Casey smirked. "Jealous?"
Dan's face fell. "She's just- she's a really neat pig, is all. And you'll hurt her."
"I won't hurt her."
"You said you wouldn't hurt Lisa."
"We were married seven years. She divorced me and got the house, the kid, the alimony, and a large portion of my dignity. She was not the one disappointed with that arrangement."
"You said you wouldn't hurt Dana."
"She had a plan, Danny! There was a plan!"
Dan's face turned deadly serious, and he stood up. "You cannot hurt this pig, Casey. That's all I'm saying. You don't know what she's like." And he started to walk out.
"Dan!" Casey called. "I'm not going to-"
Dan turned. "Just... don't hurt the pig, Casey. It's just not a smart plan." And he left.
"I'm not going to hurt the damn pig," Casey muttered. He looked up, fast enough that neither Jeremy nor Natalie could avert their eyes and pretend to be distracted by anything that might qualify as work. "I'm not," he said again.
"Of course you're not," Natalie said. "You never hurt any women. You are a wounded manchild, crying out for love."
"In the forest," Jeremy added. "Sometimes there's weeping. Some people beat symbolic drums."
"Fuck you," Casey said to Natalie. "And fuck you," he added to Jeremy. "And fuck everyone, I am not hurting the pig! We have a date! It's a good thing!"
Natalie nodded, suddenly solemn. "You're right," she said. "You're right, and I'm sorry. It'll be fine. It'll be great. You'll have as much fun as a pig in-"
"Don't finish that sentence."
"Go get 'em, tiger," Natalie said instead.
"Ten dollars that she'll be crying at him in the office before the week is out," Jeremy muttered.
Natalie smirked. "Twenty says she kicks his ass instead."
two.
"That's not Casey," Dan said, skidding to a stop a good ten feet before he would normally slide into his chair and start his patented pre-show banter.
"No," Dana agreed through the headset. "Very good. We were wondering how long it would take you to notice."
"Four more seconds and I would've won the office pool," Natalie added. "When the show's over, your ass is mine."
"It's not Casey's night off," Dan said.
"Casey has the flu," Dana explained.
"Death flu," Natalie put in.
"It's tragic."
"Life-threatening."
"We wept a bit."
"He was fine when we were writing," Dan interjected. "He was barely sniffling."
"He got worse." He could almost feel Natalie's smile through the headset. He couldn't remember what he'd done that this was payback for, but wow, Natalie was good.
"Don't you normally let me know this more than five minutes before air time?" he asked carefully.
"We weren't sure you'd notice," Dana said.
"We thought it would be funny," Natalie agreed.
"I am no longer listening to either of you," Dan said. "If there's a sports emergency, let Kim tell me." He turned to the figure currently occupying Casey's seat. Took a deep breath. Sighed. And smiled. "Hi," he said. "I'm Dan Rydell."
"Hi-ho!" the other guy replied cheerily. "Kermit the Frog here."
At least now Dan knew what the wardrobe people had meant when they said that his tie would bring out the green of his co-anchor. He'd thought they were just being metaphorical.
three.
"He's just..." Jeremy shrugged. "He's this guy. I met him in college."
"And he's important to you," Isaac prompted.
"He is, I guess. We had a lot of classes together. We lived together senior year."
"I don't suppose there's any reason you're coming to see me about this?" Isaac asked.
Jeremy smiled weakly. "Well, I know we could use more help around here."
"And you think he's qualified?"
"I've never met anyone better at computers. Myself excepted, obviously, but he's been adept at them since he was a toddler. And he has a history in show business- he managed a theatre-"
"How'd he get that job?"
"He would have gotten it even if his uncle didn't own the theatre," Jeremy pressed.
"What does he know about sports?" Isaac asked.
"I'm sure he could learn," Jeremy said. "Fast. He's a very agreeable guy. He likes to keep his job."
"You know, I used to think the same thing about you."
"Funny, Isaac, but you know, Natalie says that you like to intimidate, and really you just find us all entertaining, and I think she's right. I'm on to you." He nodded. "You're loving this conversation."
"I'm loving the idea of you leaving to go bother Dana with this conversation."
"That's how you show affection, Isaac, I understand."
"I may have to have a talk with Natalie."
"She said to tell you that you're right, and she'll do better in the future, and also that if you just agree to hire Scooter, it'll get me out of your office."
"You added that last part yourself, didn't you?"
"Was it obvious?"
"Natalie's more subtle about it."
"Natalie's not subtle."
"No, but she likes to pretend she is."
"Got it." Jeremy nodded. "So. I'm just going to head downstairs now, and-"
"Jeremy?"
"Yeah?"
"Teach your friend some random sports trivia, and then set up an interview."
"Really?"
"Will it get you out of my office without your looking like I ran over your dog?"
"I can almost promise it will."
four.
They had been in meetings all day. And normally, Dana liked meetings. They gave structure to her day. They let her talk a lot. Usually before they were over, Casey and Dan were talking fast enough that you could get whiplash, and if you were lucky people could be easily provoked into a fistfight over the Yankees' starting line-up.
This, however, was not a normal meeting. This was a "what do you mean, we need a new tech guy right now?" meeting. That meant Natalie was handling the interesting stuff and Dana was occupied with the tech guys and an endless supply of resumes. That meant it was boring. And counterproductive. And far longer than a normal meeting. And that meant they were out of donuts.
At least they were at the bottom of the pile.
"Does no one but me find this resume a little bit..." Dana stopped, and did a flappy thing with her hand, until everyone stared and she stopped. "Odd?"
"What about it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "The fact that his main qualifications are ways he's electrocuted himself, for one."
"He's survived," Chris said with a shrug. "That's got to count for something." He was chewing on something. Dana wondered if he'd been stockpiling donuts, and if so, how she missed it. She made a note to study his technique.
"He also lists several performance pieces he's been involved with." Dana frowned at the list. "It's interesting how many of these involve the word exploding, isn't it?"
"There are going to be explosives?" Dave asked.
"There will be nothing explosive," Dana said firmly. "Casey and Dan wrote it into their contracts."
"Do most resumes have a chicken clause?" Will asked. "Or is this a special case?"
Dana raised an eyebrow. "Why, are you updating yours?"
"I am if we get a cannon on set. Half the crew can't even remember to keep the open Red Bulls away from the switchboard."
"No one is blowing anyone up," Dana said firmly. "At least, not this week."
"His resume's better than any of the other candidates," Chris pointed out.
"I know," Dana said with a wistful sigh. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
"Doesn't have to be a problem," Will said. "Unless anyone on set is allergic to chicken."
five.
"They can't do this!" Dan exploded. He hit the memo twice for emphasis.
"They can," Dana said, never breaking her stride.
"Okay, but they shouldn't," Casey said.
"I prefer can't," Dan said. "It's more definitive."
"It's less accurate."
"You would rely on accuracy over emphasis."
"It's one of my failings."
"One of many."
"Guys!" Dana said. "Do I have to separate you two?"
"No," Casey said.
"Probably not," Dan agreed.
"Good." Dana sighed. "It's like being a preschool teacher with three-year-olds who curse a lot." Deep breaths, slowly, and then she turned to face them and use her most calm voice. "Dan. Casey. They're the network. They can, and will, do whatever they damn well please, and we are supposed to bend over the desk and say please and thank you. Because they are the network. And that is what they do."
"Why must every possible metaphor you come up with impugn my masculinity?" Dan asked.
"Just lucky, I guess." She turned back around and continued her walk. "They are in the office, and you will speak to them, and you will be polite, if it kills all three of us."
"Did you read the notes, Dana?" Casey demanded. "They tore our script apart! I mean, look at this. Too obscure. Too complicated. Too many soccer jokes. Dana, they said a script written by Dan has too many soccer jokes."
"The network thinks there's too many soccer jokes."
"There are never too many soccer jokes."
"There are often too many soccer games," Dan offered.
"You were probably better off when you weren't talking," Natalie called to him. He wasn't even sure how she'd heard, but Dan ignored her anyway.
"We've been making these jokes for two and a half years," Casey said. "The same jokes."
"Sometimes the exact same words," Dan interjected.
"Occasionally we don't even change the names. The point here is, nothing's new. Shouldn't they be used to our crap by now?"
"They're new," Dana said.
"What do you mean, they're new?"
"I mean they're new. Just hired. By Luther Sachs himself."
"I'm sure they were. That doesn't mean they're not inept."
"Look," Dana said. "They have a good, solid track record. They got this one guy out in the middle of nowhere to improve his comedy exponentially. They say it only took them forty years."
"What guy?"
"This bear. I don't know."
"Was the bear named something like Cheer, or Funshine?"
"No."
"Was he Yogi?"
"Bear or Berra?"
"Either."
"No."
"To either?"
"To both."
"Then I fail to see how this impacts us at all."
"Because they are with Sachs. Because they are with the network. Because they improved one man's comedy and now they can improve yours. Because I spent an hour this morning on my hair and neither of you has said a word about it and I would not be out of line in sending you without me, STRAIGHT to the lion's den-"
"There's a lion?"
"There's a metaphor lion."
"Was the bear a metaphor too?"
"I don't think so, no."
"Well, then it wasn't that dumb a question, now was it?"
Dana hugged her clipboard to her chest and glared at both of them. "There are two very important network executives in that office, and you will be nice to them, and you will not make any of these stupid comments, or so help me I will give Sally an opportunity to steal you both for her show and I will not regret it."
"You know-"
"Casey, whatever you're thinking, stop." Dana breathed in, breathed out, pasted on a smile, and opened the door. "Mr. Statler. Mr. Waldorf. Hi, it's so good to meet you. This is Dan Rydell, and this is Casey McCall-"
But none of them heard her. They were locked in a deadly stare-off, all four of them eyeing each other like wild animals about to strike.
"You know what?" Dana said. "I think Natalie needs some help with something. Why don't you all start your discussion, and I'll be back in a bit."
Even with the door closed, she could hear the insults, volleying back and forth like a perfectly-timed sitcom. But they were much clearer if you sat near Natalie, who'd had the forethought to leave a microphone on one of the empty chairs and then pipe the audio through a small speaker.
When Isaac approached, they started to scatter, but he shook his head. "Relax," he told them. "It was worth every penny."
Dana turned to him in awe. "Intentionally?" she asked.
Isaac shrugged. "People were getting complacent. Besides," he added with a grin, "it's better than The Lion King."
I was asking people last night. What fic would be good enough to make up for the fact that I am crazy and needy lately and make people love me and stuff?
(Yes. I know. I know. Shut UP.)
Anyway. barely_bean promised that people will love me again if I write Sports Night/Muppets fic.
...*waves white flag*
Title: Five Muppets Isaac's Pretty Sure He Never Hired
Author: Amy (alexia@innergeekdom.net)
Fandom: Sports Night/Muppets
Rating: PG or PG-13. The latter, I guess; the word "fuck" is used.
Disclaimer: Sorkin and Henson. Neither are me.
Summary: Sports and felt. It's a match made in heaven. Gen. Mostly.
Spoilers: Vague, for everything, for both. I jump around both timelines like I am writing on a pogo stick.
Notes: Um, I blame the evil trifecta of barely_bean, scrunchy, and slodwick. Because it is their fault and they are BAD PEOPLE WHO MADE ME DO IT through a complex procedure involving IMs, illustrations, and HEAVILY BIASED LJ polls. And stuff.
Not so much "beta'd" as "I made jadelennox skim one draft and tell me it's not a complete failure". All of the many remaining mistakes are, obviously, mine.
2,321 words
one.
"Dammit, Casey!" Dan shook his head. "We leave you for an hour. An hour."
"What's going on?" Jeremy whispered to Natalie, who was watching them avidly.
"Shh. If you talk I miss something." She held out a hand, though, offering him a few kernels of microwaved popcorn.
"We were getting lunch!" Dan continued. "Do you know what you could have done in that hour?"
"Anything but arrange a date with her?" Casey guessed. He didn't seem able to keep the smirk off his face, but that didn't mean anything except that he was Casey.
"Anything but arrange a date with her!" Dan exploded. "One hour, Casey! Nothing ever happens in an hour! It takes more than an hour for a soccer team to fail to score! It takes more than an hour for those freakish chess tournaments they sometimes air when there's no actual sports activity! Can you not look after yourself for *one hour*? Do we need to arrange anchor-sitting sessions?"
"It's a date," Casey said. "It's one date. With a woman who is pretty, and smart, and actually knows something about sports."
"She does not."
"She's watched us every night for years. She was a big fan of our coverage of the Super Bowl."
"Let me guess. She watches for the commercials."
"Lots of people watch for the commercials. They're very good commercials."
"I wasn't saying they were bad commercials."
"I'm just saying, you shouldn't be insulting the Super Bowl commercials. You couldn't have come up with the talking frogs."
"I didn't much try."
"Chew softer!" Natalie hissed at Jeremy. "If they notice we're here, they'll stop."
"One hour," Dan said. "One hour and you set up a date with this woman."
Casey smirked. "Jealous?"
Dan's face fell. "She's just- she's a really neat pig, is all. And you'll hurt her."
"I won't hurt her."
"You said you wouldn't hurt Lisa."
"We were married seven years. She divorced me and got the house, the kid, the alimony, and a large portion of my dignity. She was not the one disappointed with that arrangement."
"You said you wouldn't hurt Dana."
"She had a plan, Danny! There was a plan!"
Dan's face turned deadly serious, and he stood up. "You cannot hurt this pig, Casey. That's all I'm saying. You don't know what she's like." And he started to walk out.
"Dan!" Casey called. "I'm not going to-"
Dan turned. "Just... don't hurt the pig, Casey. It's just not a smart plan." And he left.
"I'm not going to hurt the damn pig," Casey muttered. He looked up, fast enough that neither Jeremy nor Natalie could avert their eyes and pretend to be distracted by anything that might qualify as work. "I'm not," he said again.
"Of course you're not," Natalie said. "You never hurt any women. You are a wounded manchild, crying out for love."
"In the forest," Jeremy added. "Sometimes there's weeping. Some people beat symbolic drums."
"Fuck you," Casey said to Natalie. "And fuck you," he added to Jeremy. "And fuck everyone, I am not hurting the pig! We have a date! It's a good thing!"
Natalie nodded, suddenly solemn. "You're right," she said. "You're right, and I'm sorry. It'll be fine. It'll be great. You'll have as much fun as a pig in-"
"Don't finish that sentence."
"Go get 'em, tiger," Natalie said instead.
"Ten dollars that she'll be crying at him in the office before the week is out," Jeremy muttered.
Natalie smirked. "Twenty says she kicks his ass instead."
two.
"That's not Casey," Dan said, skidding to a stop a good ten feet before he would normally slide into his chair and start his patented pre-show banter.
"No," Dana agreed through the headset. "Very good. We were wondering how long it would take you to notice."
"Four more seconds and I would've won the office pool," Natalie added. "When the show's over, your ass is mine."
"It's not Casey's night off," Dan said.
"Casey has the flu," Dana explained.
"Death flu," Natalie put in.
"It's tragic."
"Life-threatening."
"We wept a bit."
"He was fine when we were writing," Dan interjected. "He was barely sniffling."
"He got worse." He could almost feel Natalie's smile through the headset. He couldn't remember what he'd done that this was payback for, but wow, Natalie was good.
"Don't you normally let me know this more than five minutes before air time?" he asked carefully.
"We weren't sure you'd notice," Dana said.
"We thought it would be funny," Natalie agreed.
"I am no longer listening to either of you," Dan said. "If there's a sports emergency, let Kim tell me." He turned to the figure currently occupying Casey's seat. Took a deep breath. Sighed. And smiled. "Hi," he said. "I'm Dan Rydell."
"Hi-ho!" the other guy replied cheerily. "Kermit the Frog here."
At least now Dan knew what the wardrobe people had meant when they said that his tie would bring out the green of his co-anchor. He'd thought they were just being metaphorical.
three.
"He's just..." Jeremy shrugged. "He's this guy. I met him in college."
"And he's important to you," Isaac prompted.
"He is, I guess. We had a lot of classes together. We lived together senior year."
"I don't suppose there's any reason you're coming to see me about this?" Isaac asked.
Jeremy smiled weakly. "Well, I know we could use more help around here."
"And you think he's qualified?"
"I've never met anyone better at computers. Myself excepted, obviously, but he's been adept at them since he was a toddler. And he has a history in show business- he managed a theatre-"
"How'd he get that job?"
"He would have gotten it even if his uncle didn't own the theatre," Jeremy pressed.
"What does he know about sports?" Isaac asked.
"I'm sure he could learn," Jeremy said. "Fast. He's a very agreeable guy. He likes to keep his job."
"You know, I used to think the same thing about you."
"Funny, Isaac, but you know, Natalie says that you like to intimidate, and really you just find us all entertaining, and I think she's right. I'm on to you." He nodded. "You're loving this conversation."
"I'm loving the idea of you leaving to go bother Dana with this conversation."
"That's how you show affection, Isaac, I understand."
"I may have to have a talk with Natalie."
"She said to tell you that you're right, and she'll do better in the future, and also that if you just agree to hire Scooter, it'll get me out of your office."
"You added that last part yourself, didn't you?"
"Was it obvious?"
"Natalie's more subtle about it."
"Natalie's not subtle."
"No, but she likes to pretend she is."
"Got it." Jeremy nodded. "So. I'm just going to head downstairs now, and-"
"Jeremy?"
"Yeah?"
"Teach your friend some random sports trivia, and then set up an interview."
"Really?"
"Will it get you out of my office without your looking like I ran over your dog?"
"I can almost promise it will."
four.
They had been in meetings all day. And normally, Dana liked meetings. They gave structure to her day. They let her talk a lot. Usually before they were over, Casey and Dan were talking fast enough that you could get whiplash, and if you were lucky people could be easily provoked into a fistfight over the Yankees' starting line-up.
This, however, was not a normal meeting. This was a "what do you mean, we need a new tech guy right now?" meeting. That meant Natalie was handling the interesting stuff and Dana was occupied with the tech guys and an endless supply of resumes. That meant it was boring. And counterproductive. And far longer than a normal meeting. And that meant they were out of donuts.
At least they were at the bottom of the pile.
"Does no one but me find this resume a little bit..." Dana stopped, and did a flappy thing with her hand, until everyone stared and she stopped. "Odd?"
"What about it?"
She raised an eyebrow. "The fact that his main qualifications are ways he's electrocuted himself, for one."
"He's survived," Chris said with a shrug. "That's got to count for something." He was chewing on something. Dana wondered if he'd been stockpiling donuts, and if so, how she missed it. She made a note to study his technique.
"He also lists several performance pieces he's been involved with." Dana frowned at the list. "It's interesting how many of these involve the word exploding, isn't it?"
"There are going to be explosives?" Dave asked.
"There will be nothing explosive," Dana said firmly. "Casey and Dan wrote it into their contracts."
"Do most resumes have a chicken clause?" Will asked. "Or is this a special case?"
Dana raised an eyebrow. "Why, are you updating yours?"
"I am if we get a cannon on set. Half the crew can't even remember to keep the open Red Bulls away from the switchboard."
"No one is blowing anyone up," Dana said firmly. "At least, not this week."
"His resume's better than any of the other candidates," Chris pointed out.
"I know," Dana said with a wistful sigh. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
"Doesn't have to be a problem," Will said. "Unless anyone on set is allergic to chicken."
five.
"They can't do this!" Dan exploded. He hit the memo twice for emphasis.
"They can," Dana said, never breaking her stride.
"Okay, but they shouldn't," Casey said.
"I prefer can't," Dan said. "It's more definitive."
"It's less accurate."
"You would rely on accuracy over emphasis."
"It's one of my failings."
"One of many."
"Guys!" Dana said. "Do I have to separate you two?"
"No," Casey said.
"Probably not," Dan agreed.
"Good." Dana sighed. "It's like being a preschool teacher with three-year-olds who curse a lot." Deep breaths, slowly, and then she turned to face them and use her most calm voice. "Dan. Casey. They're the network. They can, and will, do whatever they damn well please, and we are supposed to bend over the desk and say please and thank you. Because they are the network. And that is what they do."
"Why must every possible metaphor you come up with impugn my masculinity?" Dan asked.
"Just lucky, I guess." She turned back around and continued her walk. "They are in the office, and you will speak to them, and you will be polite, if it kills all three of us."
"Did you read the notes, Dana?" Casey demanded. "They tore our script apart! I mean, look at this. Too obscure. Too complicated. Too many soccer jokes. Dana, they said a script written by Dan has too many soccer jokes."
"The network thinks there's too many soccer jokes."
"There are never too many soccer jokes."
"There are often too many soccer games," Dan offered.
"You were probably better off when you weren't talking," Natalie called to him. He wasn't even sure how she'd heard, but Dan ignored her anyway.
"We've been making these jokes for two and a half years," Casey said. "The same jokes."
"Sometimes the exact same words," Dan interjected.
"Occasionally we don't even change the names. The point here is, nothing's new. Shouldn't they be used to our crap by now?"
"They're new," Dana said.
"What do you mean, they're new?"
"I mean they're new. Just hired. By Luther Sachs himself."
"I'm sure they were. That doesn't mean they're not inept."
"Look," Dana said. "They have a good, solid track record. They got this one guy out in the middle of nowhere to improve his comedy exponentially. They say it only took them forty years."
"What guy?"
"This bear. I don't know."
"Was the bear named something like Cheer, or Funshine?"
"No."
"Was he Yogi?"
"Bear or Berra?"
"Either."
"No."
"To either?"
"To both."
"Then I fail to see how this impacts us at all."
"Because they are with Sachs. Because they are with the network. Because they improved one man's comedy and now they can improve yours. Because I spent an hour this morning on my hair and neither of you has said a word about it and I would not be out of line in sending you without me, STRAIGHT to the lion's den-"
"There's a lion?"
"There's a metaphor lion."
"Was the bear a metaphor too?"
"I don't think so, no."
"Well, then it wasn't that dumb a question, now was it?"
Dana hugged her clipboard to her chest and glared at both of them. "There are two very important network executives in that office, and you will be nice to them, and you will not make any of these stupid comments, or so help me I will give Sally an opportunity to steal you both for her show and I will not regret it."
"You know-"
"Casey, whatever you're thinking, stop." Dana breathed in, breathed out, pasted on a smile, and opened the door. "Mr. Statler. Mr. Waldorf. Hi, it's so good to meet you. This is Dan Rydell, and this is Casey McCall-"
But none of them heard her. They were locked in a deadly stare-off, all four of them eyeing each other like wild animals about to strike.
"You know what?" Dana said. "I think Natalie needs some help with something. Why don't you all start your discussion, and I'll be back in a bit."
Even with the door closed, she could hear the insults, volleying back and forth like a perfectly-timed sitcom. But they were much clearer if you sat near Natalie, who'd had the forethought to leave a microphone on one of the empty chairs and then pipe the audio through a small speaker.
When Isaac approached, they started to scatter, but he shook his head. "Relax," he told them. "It was worth every penny."
Dana turned to him in awe. "Intentionally?" she asked.
Isaac shrugged. "People were getting complacent. Besides," he added with a grin, "it's better than The Lion King."