Bobbi and Warren -- Who is that girl?
Jan. 16th, 2016 10:00 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsYou know," Warren said, munching on a piece of pineapple, "I think they captured your good side, don't you think?" He grinned and reached for the control, re-winding the TMZ segment again.
"Right here, for instance." Another grin. "I take back the teasing I gave you for colour coordinating your underwear to your dress. Now, it just looks like spandex or something."
"Shhhh," Bobbi whispered, putting a finger up to her lips which hit her nose on her first attempt before sliding down over her mouth. "Shhh. S'too loud."
She reached out and carefully fumbled around for the large glass of water next to her plate of dry toast, which was about all she could handle that morning. It had been an interesting night to say the least, and she was paying for it big time now.
"You don't have to keep watching it, y'know."
"Of course I do," he responded, giving her an incredulous look. "I'm only 98% positive it's you and that's not good enough." The entertainment reporter was speculating on Bobbi's shoes and had made an accurate guess.
That was impressive and Warren said so. "They even figured out your shoe designer. We have to hire that guy for XFI. He has to have some sort of powers."
"Mmmph," was all the protest she could muster as she rested face first on the counter. "A better power would be curing hangovers." Even with her own powers she was still hurting, and Bobbi shuddered to think how she'd feel without them.
"Wait," she said, raising her head up, strands of blonde hair now sticking to her forehead. "Did you say something about my underwear?" She must've been hearing things because no. Just no.
"Absolutely." With a disturbing amount of glee, he rewinded the clip again, and played it in slow motion. "See here? When you flip off the table and basically go head over heels in an almost perfect front flip?" He paused the clip. "They gave you an 8 out of 10 by the way. You lost points for losing your shoe."
The blurred image wasn't the best quality but it was still there. He gave a grin. "I'm so honoured to know you."
She let her head fall back to the table again, groaning as she bumped it a little harder than intended.
"I hate you," Bobbi muttered without moving from that position. She searched out with one hand, taking hold of the toast and sliding it in the general direction of her mouth without trying to get up because this was her life now, she'd never be able to show her face again.
Warren nodded, reaching for a bottle of rum. Liberally topping off his coffee, he offered her the bottle. "Most people do," he admitted. "And frankly, I don't blame them." He paused and gave her a look. "Is this where I admit I posted that video on my journal?"
Slowly raising her head, Bobbi's eyes narrowed as she gave Warren the hardest, evilest stare she could manage. Given how bloodshot her eyes still were from the previous evening she hoped that added to the effect.
"No," she said evenly. "this is where you tell me you're joking and would theoretically delete any such posts, or else this is where I not-so-theoretically strangle you." She attempted to raise her hands to emphasize her point but winced as she could barely get them up onto the table.
"Ow." Resigned to her fate, she let her head rest back on the table once more, gently this time. "Don't laugh. It's not funny."
"I'm not laughing," Warren said, trying hard not to. "But I am sure you'll murder me later. I think this is where I bid you adieu and let you know that Tamara is outside the door and has been instructed to wait on you hand and food. I'm off to sell my story to the nearest paparazzi."
"S'a good idea." she mumbled against the table. Though he couldn't see it, her eyebrows shot up at the mention of Tamara and getting pampered. "...m'kay. For now." Leaving her head down she turned it to one side and squinted at him. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I was you, just the same."
"I always do," he responded cheekily. escaping the room, Warren nodded to Tamara. The hospitality specialist recognized the cue and went into the room. Bobbi would be waited on hand and foot. Hopefully that would be enough to ensure she didn't retaliate.
Maybe.
"Right here, for instance." Another grin. "I take back the teasing I gave you for colour coordinating your underwear to your dress. Now, it just looks like spandex or something."
"Shhhh," Bobbi whispered, putting a finger up to her lips which hit her nose on her first attempt before sliding down over her mouth. "Shhh. S'too loud."
She reached out and carefully fumbled around for the large glass of water next to her plate of dry toast, which was about all she could handle that morning. It had been an interesting night to say the least, and she was paying for it big time now.
"You don't have to keep watching it, y'know."
"Of course I do," he responded, giving her an incredulous look. "I'm only 98% positive it's you and that's not good enough." The entertainment reporter was speculating on Bobbi's shoes and had made an accurate guess.
That was impressive and Warren said so. "They even figured out your shoe designer. We have to hire that guy for XFI. He has to have some sort of powers."
"Mmmph," was all the protest she could muster as she rested face first on the counter. "A better power would be curing hangovers." Even with her own powers she was still hurting, and Bobbi shuddered to think how she'd feel without them.
"Wait," she said, raising her head up, strands of blonde hair now sticking to her forehead. "Did you say something about my underwear?" She must've been hearing things because no. Just no.
"Absolutely." With a disturbing amount of glee, he rewinded the clip again, and played it in slow motion. "See here? When you flip off the table and basically go head over heels in an almost perfect front flip?" He paused the clip. "They gave you an 8 out of 10 by the way. You lost points for losing your shoe."
The blurred image wasn't the best quality but it was still there. He gave a grin. "I'm so honoured to know you."
She let her head fall back to the table again, groaning as she bumped it a little harder than intended.
"I hate you," Bobbi muttered without moving from that position. She searched out with one hand, taking hold of the toast and sliding it in the general direction of her mouth without trying to get up because this was her life now, she'd never be able to show her face again.
Warren nodded, reaching for a bottle of rum. Liberally topping off his coffee, he offered her the bottle. "Most people do," he admitted. "And frankly, I don't blame them." He paused and gave her a look. "Is this where I admit I posted that video on my journal?"
Slowly raising her head, Bobbi's eyes narrowed as she gave Warren the hardest, evilest stare she could manage. Given how bloodshot her eyes still were from the previous evening she hoped that added to the effect.
"No," she said evenly. "this is where you tell me you're joking and would theoretically delete any such posts, or else this is where I not-so-theoretically strangle you." She attempted to raise her hands to emphasize her point but winced as she could barely get them up onto the table.
"Ow." Resigned to her fate, she let her head rest back on the table once more, gently this time. "Don't laugh. It's not funny."
"I'm not laughing," Warren said, trying hard not to. "But I am sure you'll murder me later. I think this is where I bid you adieu and let you know that Tamara is outside the door and has been instructed to wait on you hand and food. I'm off to sell my story to the nearest paparazzi."
"S'a good idea." she mumbled against the table. Though he couldn't see it, her eyebrows shot up at the mention of Tamara and getting pampered. "...m'kay. For now." Leaving her head down she turned it to one side and squinted at him. "I'd sleep with one eye open if I was you, just the same."
"I always do," he responded cheekily. escaping the room, Warren nodded to Tamara. The hospitality specialist recognized the cue and went into the room. Bobbi would be waited on hand and foot. Hopefully that would be enough to ensure she didn't retaliate.
Maybe.
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