Post by Justin on Jan 11, 2021 22:57:27 GMT -5
You know what time it is?
It's MEDIA SCRUM time!
The Syndicate trio of Eric Dane, Scott Steel, and Jesse Jamester find themselves in front of a few snapping cameras and a bunch of smart-phones or whatever people record this shit on these days. Whatever. Somebody asks a stupid question real fuckin' fast.
"So what about that Timeless and Roxylicious parody of-"
Eric Dane clears his throat. Loudly.
DANE:
*AHEM!* I have prepared the following statement for Mr. Alex Turner.
The fuckin' Champ allows the room to quiet down a bit.
Dane:
Fuck outta here with that bullshit.
Several hands shoot up from the assembled media monkeys. Scott Steel takes a menacing step forward.
Steel:
NOQUESTIONS!
Eric shrugs, as if he could possibly take a question after that declaration.
Dane:
Alex, it's like this. I've come to the conclusion, after much deliberation and an entire trunk load of Tylenol, that you and that human hot pocket you drag around with you are so far beneath my station that I'll no longer be wasting precious oxygen or the firing of synapses on trying to carry you to half coherent program.
To Dane's left side Jesse Jamester chuckles, meanwhile to the right Scott Steel salivates having not had any Swedish Meatballs earlier when he'd eyed them before putting Jeffrey Daniels through the catering table and is now considering eating a smart-phone.
Dane:
That is to say, any future communique between myself or The Syndicate and Turner and Hooch over there will be directed through my brand new and totally a real thing Communications Officer, Scott muh-fugghin Steel.
The Only Star flips the bird and walks off-screen. Jamester raises a reptillian eyebrow and Steel does in fact eat someone's phone. This is where we are now, everybody say "THANKS TIMELESS!"
It's MEDIA SCRUM time!
The Syndicate trio of Eric Dane, Scott Steel, and Jesse Jamester find themselves in front of a few snapping cameras and a bunch of smart-phones or whatever people record this shit on these days. Whatever. Somebody asks a stupid question real fuckin' fast.
"So what about that Timeless and Roxylicious parody of-"
Eric Dane clears his throat. Loudly.
DANE:
*AHEM!* I have prepared the following statement for Mr. Alex Turner.
The fuckin' Champ allows the room to quiet down a bit.
Dane:
Fuck outta here with that bullshit.
Several hands shoot up from the assembled media monkeys. Scott Steel takes a menacing step forward.
Steel:
NOQUESTIONS!
Eric shrugs, as if he could possibly take a question after that declaration.
Dane:
Alex, it's like this. I've come to the conclusion, after much deliberation and an entire trunk load of Tylenol, that you and that human hot pocket you drag around with you are so far beneath my station that I'll no longer be wasting precious oxygen or the firing of synapses on trying to carry you to half coherent program.
To Dane's left side Jesse Jamester chuckles, meanwhile to the right Scott Steel salivates having not had any Swedish Meatballs earlier when he'd eyed them before putting Jeffrey Daniels through the catering table and is now considering eating a smart-phone.
Dane:
That is to say, any future communique between myself or The Syndicate and Turner and Hooch over there will be directed through my brand new and totally a real thing Communications Officer, Scott muh-fugghin Steel.
The Only Star flips the bird and walks off-screen. Jamester raises a reptillian eyebrow and Steel does in fact eat someone's phone. This is where we are now, everybody say "THANKS TIMELESS!"
