Monkey Madness - Aubrey
Aubrey flickers onto the screen, the young man's hair is for the first time...in years is...a soft dark brown color, purple streaks frame his face and the background music plays as the stick figures do their booty dance across the screen and he seems to be situated in a kitchen as he sits comfortably wearing his purple stetson and holding a digi-pad with the words 'MARRY ME MISTER LAWRENCE'S ARMS' written across it. He clears his throat. "Hello verse, WELCOME to Monkey Madness, oo oo aah aah the interview show that bring the truth to the verse and the verse...to the truth." A pause. "I'm here today with...somebody very special." He gestures over towards the other...people. "And well one of the people has no shirt on but it is okay cuz perhaps we could just imagine licking his-here's the guests."
Cameron blinks towards the camera, standing near the stove with his palms flat against the countertop behind him. "Wait...did you just say cortex?" He asks to the someone off-camera, thoroughly caught in the headlights, flailing with his decidedly Londinian accent. Cringing, he runs his hand to the back of his head to flatten the blonde hair that stands on end. He takes a deep breath, eyes widening towards Aubrey as he tries to not blush. "Allo..." He waves. "...this is a cortex program, right? I'm sorry I didn't have access to a box until a few weeks ago I'm not upsetting a live program am I? Perhaps we should do this in another take."
Moira reaches to add a third cup to the tray, simple white ceramic with no handle, and grabs another handful of the home-baked snickerdoodles from the cookie jar to put down on the plate beside the mugs. The clear glass teapot is full already with hand-rolled pan-fired oolong pearls, so as the kettle hisses she turns off the gas flame beneath it. She pours the steaming water over the tea pot and as the leaves start to unfurl she carries it over to the table where Aubrey is set up with his screen as she tells the one with no shirt but plenty of bandages, "Go on, grab a seat. He might try to lick you a little, but he probably won't bite." She gives him a wink as she tells him, "Don't worry about the wardrobe, you're still wearing more than he was last time he tried this." She carries the tray over to the table and takes a seat next to Aubrey as she tells the monkey-man, "And if you set off any water-works on me this time to get me the same, you're paying for the house and dry cleaning."
Aubrey just blinks and looks between Cameron and Moira with a tilt of his head as he toys with his digipad and purses his lips with a slow shake of his head. "Yes, it is live..." He just stares at Moira and sighs. "...This is Mister Shirtless and Miss Moira and today...we are doing something that has never been done before..." He bows his head politely. "They will be interviewing...Me."
Cameron takes good care to not upset his ribs as he slides into one of the chairs at the table. "Live...right so that means no...second takes. Excellent." His fingertips drum on the table a few times as his eyes glance between Aubrey and Moira, filling the live cortex feed with a good deal of awkward silence that he's more than happy to finish with a broad smile. Hee. Chuckling nervously, he reaches for one of the cookies. "I suppose I could do with that. You leave me with a good number of rather immediate questions." He pats the table in front of Aubrey. "When the verse is consumed in that ball of apocalyptic fire I keep hearing about, where do you want to be?"
Moira laughs a bit as the monkey-man mostly makes introductions. Kind of. But Mr. Shirtless seems to keen onto things rather quickly, and since he's already throwing out an opening gambit, the woman keeps her bowed lips closed, though they're curved into a definite smile as she listens to the interview unfurl. Her eyes are sparkling with amusement as she simply busies herself with the teapot and mugs, pouring out three and dispersing them around the table as she waits to hear what the monkey has to eek-eek about that.
Aubrey is quiet at the question, settling back in his seat and slipping his lenseless glasses from his bag, carefully putting them on as he considers the question with a blank expression before he carefully replies. "Up an aesthetically pleasing individual's ass. Next question." He nods firmly and scribbles something on his digi-pad as he shakes his head.
Cameron is mid-cookie bite when Aubrey's reply comes, which results in a sudden coughing fit. Hand over his mouth, he leans to the side with his hand in a fist in front of his mouth. Wincing with each cough, a few moments pass as it seems the last of the snickerdoodle has been wrenched from his lungs. His fist lowers and he takes a few 'practice breaths'. "Wow...uhm..." He leans back, pressing his palm to his chest as he resumes hope that no fragments have been left to rattle in his lungs like a nail in a tin can. "Miss Moira? We agreed to taking turns, right?" He smiles sweetly to her, passing the buck.
Moira smirks at Aubrey's answer, glad to see that at least he's feeling back to his usual self again. She slips the plate of cookies to where the men can reach them and then loosely cups her small hands around her mug of tea for the warmth. She arches her brow at the shirtless wonder as he chokes on air, literally, but then her soft voice poses the next question as she asks, "Bree? You're always so busy doing and donating to the help of others with your Hope House, your charity prizes donated at the end of your Metal Prince show, and your generous donations of supplies and time to Paquin. What support can the rest of the 'verse offer to your causes if they want to help out, too, but don't have the credits to make an outright donation?"
Aubrey's head tilts to the side as he continues to sketch away on his digi-pad, looking open to peer at Cameron before he looks back to Moira and he looks back and forth and then shrugs his shoulders. "Volunteer time to the causes, compete...purchase heels and become princesses...just the typical things." He shrugs again before fidgeting with his stylus.
Cameron salutes Moira with the snickerdoodle cookie, having busied himself with a bite that he manages to swallow while Bree answers her question. He sets his cookie down on a small plate, deciding to not be caught eating anything while he asks or receives answer to his next question. Brushing his hands clean, he rests his forearms at the edge of the table, hands coming to clasp together while he regards the rather eccentric character across from him. That's when the up-to-no-good smirk forms at the corner of his lip. "If you were to create a nightclub..." He starts, assuming already he's throwing gasoline onto a nuclear bomb. "...and had total creative control over the environment, what would you do? And if Miss Moira and I were in your employ what...wait I probably shouldn't drag her into this. Who would be your -ideal- employees?"
Moira sits back in her chair and pulls her bare feet up onto the seat with her legs curled up to her chest as she listens to Bree's response. Since the shirtless and as yet to be named interviewee has ceased his coughing, she manages to get a sip of her tea drunk before he lobs out the next question. The woman laughs softly as she imagines the myriad of answers he could give, and the teacup lowers from her lips to just be held for the moment, deciding that no spit-takes are needed on live TV for when Bree gives whatever answer he might have.
Aubrey blinks and then blinks again. He's just quiet as he stares and carefully asks. "Are you on some type of mind altering drug?"
Cameron says, "I just coughed an eigth of cookie out of my lungs and demand quality entertainment from my cortex viewing time as I am -sure- your fans do as well. At the very least, -monkey-, you're on my show now and I'll be asking the questions". Cameron laughs, settling into his seat with a broad grin on his face. "Is that too personal of a question? Very well then..." He sighs, reaching for his cup of tea. "...do you prefer falafel or rice dish?""
Moira is very glad to have not had a mouthful of tea in that moment, though she manages to suppress most of her response except for a small smile that plays on her lips. Except then the shirtless man who has not-yet-been-named is throwing out another question, and the woman sits down her tea upon the table, rests her hands palm up on her knees, and just for a moment drops her forehead down onto them. Yes, ladies and gentleman of the cortex-wide viewing audience, the companion has just face-palmed on live TV.
Aubrey arches an eyebrow and adjusts his glasses before tapping a finger against his nose and taking a deep breath. "I don't have fans...that is an illogical and ridiculous assumption to make -naked man-, but then mundane do enjoy being entertained so they should find pornography or other things to view for this hour and then go and masturbate if they are /that/ desperate to be entertained." He nods slowly and squints at the next question. "I do not require those types of sustenance." A firm nod.
Cameron says, "Naked man." Cameron's eyes shift between the face-palmed companion and the interviewee. "I'm wearing pants. Well at the least a form of cargo short, really and -no-, I'm not on any sort of mind altering substance. Like most of the people on those news feeds where the reporter is on scene at some form of accident I'm sure the same part of my brain is being tweaked that requires some person in the background to wave at the camera." His eyes lid as he harrumphs, looking to Moira. "I think we've killed her. Miss Moira? Your turn.""
Moira is not dead yet! She lifts her head from her hands and tries to get things back onto track here, or at least to get the conversation moving again, and she asks her next question, "OK... Well, Bree... What I've always most wondered about you won't do much help to the rest of the 'verse, so I've got two questions, the first, in what shop and planet did you find those fabulous shoes you gave me? And the second, for those who aren't as fond as sparkling feet, what other shops to you like to frequent for your often fabulous wardrobe choices?"
Aubrey points a finger at Cameron. "Your pants are mine." Then he looks back to Moira and mmhms softly as he listens and shakes his head. "No. I cannot tell you where I got your shoes. It is classified information." Then he taps a finger against his lips. "My sister is a seamstress." He leaves it at that. "Also, I taught her how to sew." He stares off at nothing in particular, eyes going dead for a moment.
Cameron says, "My -cargo shorts- are -mine-." Cameron fires back, pointing a finger at Aubrey. Pausing for a sip from his cup of tea, he gingerly places the cup back down on his saucer. One of his eyes winces closed as he tries to turn in his chair, his bandaged ribs still rather sore. "I apologize Miss Moira, I'm trying to think of a question to ask a complete stranger to me like this gentleman here..." His words trail off, thinking. "...when you dream, do you ever have a dream where you're an animal? Like a flying bird or some kind of predatory creature? If not, what are your dreams or goals. What do you want to achieve?""
Moira dearly wants to reach out to touch Aubrey's arm as his eyes go flat, and it's possibly evident that she's avoiding doing so by how tightly her hands clasp to one another around her knees instead so as to keep them occupied. For the moment she just stays silent as she watches the man beside her carefully as the man with no shirt follows up with his own question.
Aubrey turns his intense gaze on Cameron as he asks the question. "No...you belong to me." He nods slowly before blinking. "When I dream...I am a homo...sapien. A juvenile homo...sapien. One who was conceived in deceit due to a woman's attempt at having a perfect child. This young child is beaten, bloodied...and brought to medical facilities on a regular basis with broken bones and many lacerations by a father who is not biologically related to them and so very angry at the child and what is represents. Then the child is left in a small dark room on his own for weeks surrounded by monitors and small computers to make sure he is fed and alive but with little of no human contact...it is a strange animal, this homo...sapien. Then the child goes to sleep and changes into a purple monkey slowly, evolving through the concept of pain...and becoming something else. Something different." He pauses. "Dreams are a bitch hunh?"
Cameron listens quietly from his perch at the table, eyes tilting to watch Moira's slender hand reach out for Aubrey. Though his brows lower at times during the interviewee's explanation, Cameron does Aubrey the respect of not looking away or avoiding his gaze as he speaks. "Those dreams do sound like a bitch..." Cameron replies, nodding his head a few slow times. He leans forward, tapping the table quietly. "...I had a dream once where everything in my life was on this flat, table like plane in some platform way up in the sky or in hell or whatever. It was a place. One of my legs was chained to the center of this circular platform. As the dream went on that platform slowly started to tilt and I had to find out what I was going to grab with my two hands. Dad, Mum, friends, memories...all of it started to slide off the edge and I had to choose quickly." He gives one more satisfied nod to Aubrey. "Learned a lot more from dreams than I ever did awake." He pauses, looking to Moira, searching for her lead.
Moira gives the man with no shirt but a large fondness for his shorts a small smile to try to encourage him before returning to her questions. She does what she can to make this easier on Aubrey, but he's at least doing what he's said he wants, so she lets her voice go softer as she turns her head to keep a careful eye on the man she's questioning as she asks him, "Your sister that you mentioned, is she what drives you and inspires you to do the helping that you do in the world? You often talk of needing to change the 'verse. What kind of world do you think she would have wanted us to be living in?"
Aubrey just eyes Cameron for a moment as he describes his dream and his arches an eyebrow. "...wow." A slow blink. "You're fucked up Mister." He clears his throat and looks over towards Moira and he sighs softly. "No. My sister is well loved and cared for." He shakes his head. "I do what I do because nobody else does it." He gestures around vaguely. "I am very...wrong. But I can see things that are right from a logical perspectives so I will...fight the people who hurt the people who cannot fight for themselves."
Cameron laughs quietly as Aubrey deems him to be fucked up, settling once again against the back of his chair to give his ribs a brief respite. Listening in as a wallflower on their shared conversation, he lowers his gaze to the table and nods into the ether. "Noble effort." Cameron comments with a tone of positive appraisal to his voice. "Lifelong effort, a good thing to marry yourself to. If you will, Interviewee, let me know where I can help. I've gone days without food myself, and haven't gone a day without since. There's nothing so important with my time and energy I'll be taking with me to the next life. You're not alone in it."
Moira winces as the man speaks of being wrong, and wriggles a bit in her seat to pull her PDA from her pocket. She taps the stylus over the screen, fiddling with the device for a few minutes as the man with he bandage over is chest carries the conversation for a while. However, since he doesn't follow with a question, she asks another herself, softly asking him, "What's the one piece of advice you wish you could give that everyone else in the 'verse would have to follow?" She goes back to her tapping after the question, but every few seconds Aubrey gets a side-long glance as she types out whatever it is she's doing, and after a final press of a button, she lays the device down on the table and wraps her hands back around her knees once more.
Cameron laughs quietly as Aubrey deems him to be fucked up, settling once again against the back of his chair to give his ribs a brief respite. Listening in as a wallflower on their shared conversation, he lowers his gaze to the table and nods into the ether. "Noble effort." Cameron comments with a tone of positive appraisal to his voice. "Lifelong effort, a good thing to marry yourself to. If you will, Interviewee, let me know where I can help. I've gone days without food myself, and haven't gone a day without since. There's nothing so important with my time and energy I'll be taking with me to the next life. You're not alone in it."
Aubrey narrows his eyes and sketches something on the digi-pad with a tiny nod. "If you are capable of love, love." He takes a deep breath. "Also...unless you are Frost, you should not be wearing dreads...he knows how to take care of his hair...proper hair-care is key to being a valuable asset to the verse." He points at the camera. "Also...please stop being a pain in my ass." Then he looks back between the interviewers.
Cameron is no fool. Clearly he can see from his vantage point that the two of them are passing notes. With no PDA of his own, he diverts his attention to his cup of tea. "So you're saying I should say no to dreads?" Cameron muses over the cup, pausing for a sip. Despite the tattoos that stream down his arm, he holds his cup like he learned to do so in high society. "So what's the place you think the most love is needed, friend? The hungry, the disposessed from the war, or right now at Paquin? I've needed a bit of medical care of my own but I didn't feel right when this..." He motions to his ribs. "...may pass on its own."
Moira gives the man answering the questions a smile as he answers her last one. She lowers her hand so that he can see them below the table, but so that they are blocked by view of the cameras that he brought. She tries to catch the eyes of the man across the corner of the table from them, to check in on him as well, but his gaze is diverted down to his teacup, so for now that will have to wait as he asks the monkey man another question.
Aubrey turns his attention over to Cameron as he just studies the man quietly. "No dreads. You hair will stink." Then he taps a finger against his lips. "The most love is needed everywhere. Everybody." He shrugs his shoulders before lowering his eyes after watching what Moira is doing under the table, head tilting to the side and he just stares blankly at the woman. "Well." A pause. "Well THANK YOU ALL!" He turns to the camera. "For watching Monkey Madness with my guests Moira and Half-Naked Man." He nods firmly. "I hope you all enjoyed watching, and remember if /you/ have any questions next episode we'll let you ask the questions and our guest have to give you the truth." He blows a kiss. "Well then, that's our show..." He carefully gets to his feet. "The show that brings the truth to the verse and the verse to the truth! Tune in next time." The music starts. "HERE WE GO NOW. Everybody has to dance..." Then the booty shaking begins.
Cameron says, "Everyone has to what?" Cameron blinks, incredulous as the music starts to play. Grumbling something under his breath in Hindi, he sets the teacup down and pushes himself up from the table. Glancing to the camera, not quite sure how to approach the topic of dancing, he presses a hand to the tightly wrapped bandages that circle his ribcage. Wincing, he does a little 'white boy dance' that somehow manages to sneak him off camera."
Moira gives a soft sigh and slight roll of her eyes, though her feet lower to the floor to slide back her chair. And the Companion dances. Her hips and rear sway and wriggle and whatnot. Whatever it takes to get the monkey hopefully smiling again now that the interview has ended.
Aubrey nods in approval before SCREEN GOES BLACK: THANK YOU FOR WATCHING MONKEY MADNESS
