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For osborn_heir for the song drabble meme.
"Explain to me again why I'm doing this," Harry says, blinking away the after-images of the flash while Dennis does something arcane to one of the cameras hanging around his neck and Mike perches on, well, nothing, feet idly swinging a good foot above the ground.
"Media inevitability," Mike says.
Harry glares at him. Dennis says, "Ooh, nice one!" and snaps off another half-dozen shots in rapid succession. Harry tries glaring at him instead, but since it just makes Dennis take more photos, he goes back to glaring at Mike, which is just as ineffective, but much less blinding.
"Look," says Mike, after a few minutes of smiling blankly back have had no effect, "we both agree that, no matter what you do or where you go, be it Gotham or Mars or--"
"The Philippines?" Dennis offers. They both look at him. "There are conical karst hills in Bohol, you know!"
"My point," says Mike, "is that pictures of you are an unavoidable side-effect of being, you know, you. So, rather than wait for you to crash a car or beat up a traffic-warden, or let some jack-ass with a camera provoke you into wanton acts of violent destruction involving fruit-themed pyrotechnics--"
"Pumpkins are squash!" Dennis says, wandering around them, cameras flashing merrily.
"Did you just take a picture of my ass?" Harry asks.
"No!" Dennis says. Harry eyes him. "I took six pictures!"
"My point," Mike cuts back in quickly, "is that you need to get ahead of the news cycle. You need to be pro-active and pre-emptive and public-relations-y. You need to set the scene and control the spin and, most importantly, flood the market to make surreptitious pictures of you worthless, bore the audience, and distract the snap-rats."
"Okay," Harry says.
"Okay," Mike says.
"I'm still not quite sure how the leather pants fit in, or why I have to be shirtless, or why I keep getting water poured all over me," Harry says.
"You're a GQMF!" Dennis says. They both stare at him. "You keep doing that!"
"It's possible I should never have let him have the coffee or the internet access," Mike muses. "Look," he adds, swinging back to Harry, "you know how the tabloid run goes. You get the positive spin, the backlash, the backlash against the backlash, the come-back tour, the slow fade back into obscurity, the where are they now feature, and you're done. We're just speeding up the inescapable so you can, you know, escape it. It'll all work out. Trust me!"
"And turn your head a little to the left and pout," Dennis adds.
Harry, sighing, does.
"Explain to me again why I'm doing this," Harry says, blinking away the after-images of the flash while Dennis does something arcane to one of the cameras hanging around his neck and Mike perches on, well, nothing, feet idly swinging a good foot above the ground.
"Media inevitability," Mike says.
Harry glares at him. Dennis says, "Ooh, nice one!" and snaps off another half-dozen shots in rapid succession. Harry tries glaring at him instead, but since it just makes Dennis take more photos, he goes back to glaring at Mike, which is just as ineffective, but much less blinding.
"Look," says Mike, after a few minutes of smiling blankly back have had no effect, "we both agree that, no matter what you do or where you go, be it Gotham or Mars or--"
"The Philippines?" Dennis offers. They both look at him. "There are conical karst hills in Bohol, you know!"
"My point," says Mike, "is that pictures of you are an unavoidable side-effect of being, you know, you. So, rather than wait for you to crash a car or beat up a traffic-warden, or let some jack-ass with a camera provoke you into wanton acts of violent destruction involving fruit-themed pyrotechnics--"
"Pumpkins are squash!" Dennis says, wandering around them, cameras flashing merrily.
"Did you just take a picture of my ass?" Harry asks.
"No!" Dennis says. Harry eyes him. "I took six pictures!"
"My point," Mike cuts back in quickly, "is that you need to get ahead of the news cycle. You need to be pro-active and pre-emptive and public-relations-y. You need to set the scene and control the spin and, most importantly, flood the market to make surreptitious pictures of you worthless, bore the audience, and distract the snap-rats."
"Okay," Harry says.
"Okay," Mike says.
"I'm still not quite sure how the leather pants fit in, or why I have to be shirtless, or why I keep getting water poured all over me," Harry says.
"You're a GQMF!" Dennis says. They both stare at him. "You keep doing that!"
"It's possible I should never have let him have the coffee or the internet access," Mike muses. "Look," he adds, swinging back to Harry, "you know how the tabloid run goes. You get the positive spin, the backlash, the backlash against the backlash, the come-back tour, the slow fade back into obscurity, the where are they now feature, and you're done. We're just speeding up the inescapable so you can, you know, escape it. It'll all work out. Trust me!"
"And turn your head a little to the left and pout," Dennis adds.
Harry, sighing, does.