"Jesus fuck, the guy playing Dewey brought a newborn," Randy whined.
Your time in the writers room was quite short. And so Randy had you follow him around. Assistant to the assistant director and all that. And Milton made sure to keep the two of you busy. He said that he thought the director was something special, and wanted to make the movie go as well as possible.
But some people didn't seem to share the same sentiment.
"You're kidding, right," you asked.
"Nope. I've heard that guy's unprofessional, but this is insane."
"Oh, Tom," an intern questioned as they walked by.
"Yeah, Tom Prinze," Randy confirmed.
"He has quite the reputation," the intern stated. "And be careful. If you don't look like the poster child of peak masculinity, he might try to pass the kid off to you."
"Oh, so all three of us are fucked," Randy groaned.
"Yep," the intern nodded. "Worst part is: no one knows the kid's name. Not even Tom."
"Holy shit," you muttered. "How does that even work?"
"Tom fucked around, the kid's the find out. And he found out by the mother showing up out of nowhere, claiming she didn't want a kid, and passing them off to the baby daddy," the intern explained. "Now we're all just... stuck with it."
"So... did the mom just not tell him anything about his own kid," Randy interrogated.
"Yep. And Tom keeps swearing he's 'gonna drag the bitch to court,' but he forgot her name," the intern finished.
"Jesus Christ on a bike," Randy mumbled.
"Hey Markus," someone shouted.
"Yeah," the intern replied loudly.
"I need you to run to my office! The fax machine should-"
"I got you," Markus responded, quickly leaving to follow orders.
Randy smiled and gave a small wave at the man as he ran off to the mystery person's office.
"Wow, you seem to like him," you pointed out.
"He gossiped like a middle aged white mom, and I am eternally grateful to him for it. Oh look, here comes my boss."
Looking over, a man your age was walking over. He was adjusting a pair of glasses that rested on his face, looking over a clipboard in his hands. And the dude seemed both pissed, and calm at the same time.
"Meeks, they re-wrote the script. Again," the man announced.
"Hello Roman," Randy greeted. "(y/n), this is Roman. Roman, this is my friend (y/n)."
"It's a pleasure," Roman said, quickly offering you a hand to shake and a smile. "I've heard a lot of great things about you."
"The pleasure is all mine," you responded with a small smile.
You still didn't like new people all that much.
And Roman just unnerved you a little when he masked all of his anger to meet you, then let the façade go and got pissy once more as he turned to Randy.
"This is getting ridiculous," Roman groaned. "Personally, I think the second script was the one to stick with. Milton's making everything cliché and sellable. It's a mess. It's the stripped back realism that we want."
"Well, what if I told you," Randy began. "That one of the main writers of the second script was dear old (y/n) here?"
"You're kidding," Roman muttered. "You're serious? Well, I am a big fan of your work (y/n)."
"Thank you. I tried to remind everyone that this was a bunch of killers, not some teenage heartthrobs who happen to have some quirky flaw," you told him.
"Like I said, stripped back realism."
"So, what's this new script look like," Randy asked.
"Two misunderstood teens decide to get revenge on the world," Roman replied. "I think the writers forget that this is a real world event that actually happened."
"Yeah, that's why they changed (y/n)'s contract," Randy shrugged. "No one thought an audience would enjoy 'stripped back realism.'"
"Well, that's in poor taste," Roman stated. "Anyways, I need to go talk to Jenifer. Apparently she's throwing a hissy fit and Dewey can't calm her down."
And with that, Roman walked off. Randy looked over to you, and smirked.
"Well, you manage to get all the boys falling for ya, huh," he joked.
"Where the hell did that come from," you asked.
"You can't see it? Roman likes you," Randy said, wiggling his eyebrows.
"That's not... what even makes you say that?"
"Did he hear how he talked about your script?!"
"That was before he even knew I worked on it. And I wasn't the only one working on it," you pointed out.
"Okay, but he dropped everything just to say hi. Including his attitude!"
"That was just him being polite! Look, just because someone interacts with me doesn't mean that they like me romantically. Case and point: this conversation we are having right now!"
"But-"
"Drop it," you demanded.
"Fine, fine," Randy relented, throwing his hands up. "But I'm telling you, he likes you."
"Yeah, so? Let's say, for the sake of the argument, he does like me. What happens then, huh? I mean, lets face it, no one around me survives all that long. You got lucky back in Woodsboro, and you pushed your luck at Windsor. What makes it any different for this guy," you asked.
"I don't know... you have come a long way mentally, so maybe you're different," he suggested.
"How does me being a bit happier mean a killer might jump out of nowhere and do something horrible?"
"Oh come on, killers don't just jumpscare for no reason," Randy stated matter-of-factly. "They only do it to build tension, scare any survivors in the final girl circuit, or when they're supposed to be dead."
After telling you that, he worriedly looked around. Most likely for Billy and/or Stu. And you quirked an eyebrow, catching on that that was exactly what he was doing.
"Sorry, now you got me paranoid," he muttered.
"That's what get for jumping to conclusions," you told him. "Now, maybe Milton will let us bring Marshmallow to work."
"Do you think that's a good idea with a small child around here somewhere," Randy questioned.
"Oh come on, Marshmallow's a gentle giant," you stated. "Besides, the small child's around here, but not around us. And we wouldn't let Marshmallow out of our sight, would we? We couldn't have him trying to drink any fake blood."
"Oo, you guys are bringing marshmallows," Markus asked, returning with a large pile of papers.
"No, we're thinking about bringing our dog," Randy responded.
"Even better. Hey, do either of you know where Roman went? I can't find him," Markus said.
"Oh, try Jenifer's trailer. He had to go help with one of her meltdowns," Randy replied.
And with that, the intern was gone once more.
"Yeah, we're bringing in Marshmallow now," you decided. "It can be your way to thank Markus for the dirt on Tom."
"You know what? Fine. But if Milton finds out and doesn't like it, I had no involvement. Hell, you are a stranger who just so happens to live in my house," Randy said.
"Alright," you shrugged. "Those seem like agreeable terms."
A/n: kudos to my local library for having a DVD copy of 'Wrong Turn' and 'Escape from Tomorrow.' I've pretty much turned that building into my very own free Blockbuster.
Oh, and I've gotten a few fic requests that I kinda want to start right now because I'm impatient as fuck, but at the same time, that would mean even more sparse updates to pre-existing stories.
And for the spin-offs of this series, who should be first: Mickey or Roman? And should I stick with the tattoo thing, or should I try out a different way to find your soulmate?