fic: Be My Player Two (chapter one)

[bonnefois]

Title: Be My Player Two (chapter 1 of about 4-5, depending on the final word count)
Series: TF2
Character/Pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, some mentions of ensemble, mentions of past Administrator/Saxton Hale
Rating: NC-17
Summary: AU. Sophie Pauling, assistant to one of the biggest (and evilest) media moguls in the world is commanded to scope out the new field of Let's Play celebrities. A gamer named Scout69 makes millions by screaming at video games. As she investigates the man behind the channel, she finds herself surprised, and charmed by him and his world beyond anything she's ever known in her workaholic, out of touch with trends life.
Word count:
Author's note: This whole thing came about from this exchange I had concerning Introducing The Steam Link.

Scout's LPer intro theme samples this song (Mild NSFW in picture, tons of bikinis haha)

Longfic_bingo: Crossover: any. The crossover in question is Youtuber LPers, though other than the mention of other people shipping Youtubers and faint mentions of Youtubers that have SOs, that part is gen.

For Madie. Hope you feel better. The entire piece is mostly completed, I just wanted to get it out as soon as possible to make your sickness/allergies go better.



"Do you know who I am? Do you know how much I scream on the internet?"
-Markiplier.


Sophie stepped into the office, a place so ominous that it was always referred in hushed tones and euphemisms, lest she catch on. Her mind always went back to every possible imperfection, for the Administrator would certainly notice. Was her lipstick smudged or chipped? Did her stockings run? Had her files gone askew on the way here? Each minor fault would earn a glare, or a note in her file.

The Administrator wouldn't tolerate failure.

The room looked almost futuristic, with wide open windows, so The Administrator could see what next to conquer. The tiles were dull silver, like a tarnished mirror. Screens covered the far wall. Otherwise, The Administrator's desk was empty of decoration. This was a woman who barely took time to sleep, and had the world by a stranglehold; she couldn't be bothered to have family photos around her office.

She was a veteran from the Greed is Good brutal business practice of the eighties, she had stripped down to an impersonal title, and eschewed anything that drew to sentimentality. To her, the worst thing that had ever happened was large ban on cigarette smoking in public places.

She'd also kept the hairstyles, purple power suits and shoulder pads from the 80s. It wasn't just designer she wore, but vintage designer that had been personally made for her years ago.

Sophie cleared her throat and began to read off of her report. "So, as you'll see, with my annual report..."

The Administrator cut her off. "Miss Pauling--"

"Yes, Administrator?"

The Administrator flicked a channel that had been playing CNN to another one entirely. A man in a snapback cap and shutter shades was making a kissy face at the screen, then openly hitting on the flustered blond reporter who was interviewing him. He wore no shirt, and low loose jeans, low enough to see the upper rim of his red boxers. She hoped he never put out a rap album; Vanilla Ice was an embarrassing enough legacy as it was.

"This man made millions...by playing video games," The Administrator said. There was a trace of disgust in her voice, but that was no surprise, as this was her default state.

Well, good for him, Sophie thought to herself. He looked like a complete douche, yes, but he'd apparently found a way to make millions without ever even taking over a company, small country, robbing a bank, or even selling steak knives. And in this economy, self-made millionaires like him were becoming as rare as unicorns.

"I need you to investigate this immediately. This is an untapped source of money. Apparently he isn't the only one. He's on Youtube no less," The Administrator said.

Google was one of the few who wasn't under The Administrator's designer boot heels. Years ago she had dismissed them as start-up hipsters, and now they were one of her biggest competitors. Defeat never sat well with her, especially with internet hipster search engines who claimed to be benevolent, and yet showed all the signs of being just as big megalomaniac tyrants as the Administrator.

And the less that was said about that time she didn't back Netflix was better.

"I'll get right to it," Sophie said. She already had to fix three appointments, fire five people, sort through dozens of files of paperwork, to say nothing of all the the take home work she kept filling the time she should be sleeping with. Just as always, she'd have to learn how to multitask. Maybe if she cut a few more hours off sleep, she could finally net that promotion.

"Have it on my desk before the weekend."

It was Friday, the weekend was technically already here. But this was common for the Administrator. She squared her shoulders. Her mind was a macro of It will all be worth it in the end. over and over.

"Of course, Administrator. It'll be finished before you know it."

Before she even left the room, Sophie already had her phone at ready to look into this new project. As usual, she'd have to micromanage and fit what little time she had left for researching on her lunch break.

*

Sophie shoved a cream-cheese bagel in her mouth. White, gooey delicious cheese slid down her chin, but her hands were so full that the most she could do was wipe with her wrist and hope that it didn't fall on any of these contracts. Then her choice would be trying to wipe away the stains, or refiling the entire things again.

Sophie surfed through Youtube. With her thumbs she typed in the name. What she expected, she couldn't say, but as the screen loaded, this sure wasn't it. A lean guy, with a red t-shirt that said Baseball Swag in neon letters was making a peace sign towards the camera.

Given his youthful features, she couldn't tell his age. A quick Google search led her to something called Youtuber Wikia. He'd started his career, if it could be called that, at twenty-three, back when youtube was much newer, and it was easier to break out. Now he was twenty seven, and according to the most recent articles which had caught her boss's eye, a multi-billionaire.

She skimmed over the page, taking in the most relevant details. Liam Dempsey, Hailed from the south side of Boston, had a troubled childhood, a definite criminal record which only added to his appeal to his fans. It was also riddled with spelling errors. In this era of spell check, there was no excuse for that many mix ups of your and you're.

Who the hell wrote this article? she thought to herself as she scrolled through to the pictures included further on. It had a narrative feel, not a professional feel, like he'd gotten drunk and written himself up like a hero meets the porn star with the biggest dick on record. She half expected the end to list his phone number, and say extremely single hot man with XXXL dick seeks sxxy gurls at the end.

Oh, there it was. So he was the one who wrote it. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. That news point really told her everything she needed to know. She scrolled down, and had to pause at the last statistic point. Four-hundred million subscribers? She had to count the zeroes multiple times to ensure that she hadn't made a mistake. Two recounts later, and a google search later, she realized none of those numbers were remotely inflated.

(His ego, on the other hand...that was definitely inflated. She hadn't even met the guy and she could already tell that.)

A little more research brought his name up in relation to several charities. He had an extremely loyal fanbase, and had used his influence to raise millions, even matching the donation.

She stretched her stiff shoulders for a moment as the next article loaded. Despite the tone, the article hadn't been

She started to surf through his channel, and picked one at random. SHIRTLESS TWITCH REVENGE || Too Hot For Anyone!!

Maybe she'd get a laugh out of it.

The screen turned black, with a little revolving circle. In a few seconds, the intro appeared.

"Hey, everyboooddyy! This is Scout69, and I'm here to tell you about the latest bullshit. Twitch is makin' me put my shirt on, and I ain't havin' that bullshit. So for this, consider every day shirt-free day, as a special to all my great pals out there, and lovely ladies watching."

He spun around. The editing caused the screen to go in slow motion with a short burst of Careless Whisper playing in the background. He'd even added on sparkles through some program for effect. She was genuinely surprised he didn't get a copyright strike for that.

"PSYCHE, it was already shirt-free day. These abs gotta say hi to all the great ladies and pals in the chat."

At the bottom part, there were a row of things called vlogs, each over five hours long. Some even marked in at twelve to eighteen hours. Somehow, they still managed to have hundreds of thousands of likes and views. Each title was more enthusiastic than the last.

She went to the recently uploaded tab and peered through the list. Press F to Fart! | Christmas Shopper Simulator 2: Black Friday, followed by My Guns Versus These Guns! | Half-Naked Halo #51.

She clicked on one called Playing Surgeon Simulator With My Doctor!

A man in a vintage doctor's coat that was covered with red stains sat beside him on the couch. She kept telling herself it had to be staged, and yet the way this doctor smiled, she honestly wouldn't have been surprised if he had some bodies hidden under the floorboards.

"So, this anythin' like medical school?" Scout said.

(She refused to dignify his lewd and puerile, even frat boy chic choice of numbers. Or to be more accurate, it was bad to think of any type of numbers associated with sex at all.)

"Yes, it's quite accurate. Right to the point where the heart falls across the floor and hits the wall," the doctor said.

"Awwww, craap, that deserves a bump!"

He lifted his fist up. At first she thought he might actually punch the screen, but she then recognized it as a "brofist," as she'd seen their major supplier, Saxton Hale do.

The camera panned, and she saw the fist he'd bumped his knuckles to an ungloved hand that was covered in red. A mannequin hand, or at least she hoped it was a mannequin.

Scout let out a shriek, and fell off the couch in a burst of laughter as the heart flopped over, lost to the floor, which might as well have been some void of space, given that the game didn't allow revolutionary things like bending and picking something up.

"I have no idea what I'm doing!" the doctor laughed, sounding like a dead ringer for a vintage horror flick mad scientist.

"Well, I hope one of us does, because then who would be drivin'?" Scout burst out laughing again.

"We can still save the patient--Oh, no we can't," the doctor said, in a far too cheerful way. It bordered on creepy. Sophie's brows knit together as she watched a closeup of the doctor's face set to some Wagner opera.

"I bet he got most likely to be a serial killer on his yearbook," Sophie said.

The next three were shirtless. It was a theme, of sorts. It made them more enjoyable, though his random, humor filled with these "memes" usually left her wishing there was some kind of dictionary to figure out all this jargon.

Three videos in, she couldn't exactly tell what Scout's secret was. He was loud, blunt, and perhaps the most egotistical man she'd ever seen. And that was saying something, as she routinely worked with Saxton Hale, who had an ego as big as Australia.

If she had to quantify egos, Scout's would be in the range of Jupiter.

Maybe the kids these days really liked those "memes."

Really, it was nothing special, she thought. He appealed to the frat boy audience, who were too drunk and stoned to take any quality entertainment, and wanted cheap thrills. Like a low-budget Jackass, with Scout being the King Jackass himself.

She turned off the video early, and went back to her lunch. She'd finish off a report blaming the youth and suggest that The Administrator focus more on something....sports, maybe. Didn't those errant youths like sports? And cats, those were all the rage. These memes pronounced meems all seemed to feature them.

People around the water cooler were always exchanging some of these "lolcats" and wasting precious company time with poorly spelled unfunny JPG images with cats doing things. Usually she'd file this under the reports. Enough time wasted and they'd be out the door, faster than one could say I can has, and faster than she could try and pull that trainwreck of a sentence apart to fix all the spelling and grammar errors.

Sophie didn't care if this made her 'uncool.' She'd define cool herself when she ruled it all from her own tower.

Sophie gathered up her reports. Coffee brewed with vodka and Red Bull really could do wonders. Maybe she could find a way to patent it somehow. She mentally passed through names. BANG! or maybe BONK! or BAM! were what came to mind.

It only took a few moments to realize those were the random words Scout liked to yell at the scream while he was playing. Especially Bonk, probably because of it's innuendo possibilities.

Sophie cleared her throat--and her mind of energy drink possibilities--as she knocked. She'd come into this office thousands upon thousands of times over the years, and yet she was always humbled again by the sheer confidence and power. The Administrator had made the world her lapdog, and crunched her competitors under her Gucci boots.

And one day, Sophie would be in those Gucci shoes. Well, not literally, the Administrator wore a seven, and she wore a five and a half. But they would not be knock-offs, and she'd be the one who had her heels on the back of some very attractive male or female assistant.

"Now, the Salsdale case has been wrapped up---"

The Administrator stubbed out a cigarette into the large crystal ashtray. She'd backed big tobacco for years, and its fall from grace was her one loss--the one that got away. Her love of cigarettes had outlasted any flings she'd had.

"Yes, yes, I know about that. What about the Youtuber?"

Sophie smoothly pulled out her report and handed it over. She watched with some smugness, waiting for the slight raise of an eyebrow, or any indication that the Administrator had realized just how capable she was. Not everyone could shoulder the stress and finish out a report with that detail in that amount of time.

But as the Administrator scanned it, there was nothing. Sophie's shoulders drooped for a moment, but she quickly caught herself. The Administrator wouldn't stand for any weakness in her presence.

She pulled her phone and switched over to the notes.

"It seems he isn't the only 'Let's player' who is popular, though the rest have quite a few less subscribers. After him there's one called Markiplier. I suppose, the appeal is largely aesthetic, given they're both rather good looking. I mean, conventionally. I wasn't ogling them or anything." She cleared her throat.

Not much, anyways. It was hard to not look, with the whole shirtless thing. Though his flexing had been more humorous than sexy. His expressions had been so ridiculous, complete with his attempts to make his pectorals dance along with his suggestive eyebrow lifts. He didn't exactly have the muscles to pull that off, which made the video even funnier in retrospect.

"You're rambling, Miss Pauling. I asked you what the appeal is, not the entire history of this possible asset."

"Oh, um, moving on, no one said popular things had to be good. Look how many seasons Funniest Home Videos gets, and it's mostly farts and men being hit in the crotch repeatedly. Even infomercials have their own following, with people who buy things like Snuggies simply to laugh at how ridiculous they are. ...not that I would know anything about that. I believe this is merely showing how drunken frat boys flock to someone who they find...ah, what's the word? Relateable."

The Administrator turned her black chair around, and turned her attention back to the screen. Sophie held to her clipboard harder.

"You've managed to waste my time even more than usual," the Administrator said. Sophie took a breath before she spoke. She counted to five before talking, lest she stutter or even worse, tell her boss to fuck off. She squelched that little idea that sometimes came up when she'd drank too much and when she had to go on three hours of sleep again because of all the take-home paperwork, and didn't even get a raise out of it.

One day an office like this will be mine. I just have to survive a little longer. She's testing me. She's got something in store for me. She isn't that bad. Really.

"I haven't figured that out yet. I'm afraid simply looking up his background isn't going to cut it. He's actually in this city," she said.

Just another benefit of the recent office switch from the Badlands of New Mexico. The lack of sand in her heels was also a huge plus.

"Figure this out, and do it before the end of the week," the Administrator said. She turned, without a goodbye. Sophie was dismissed.

She technically had far more time for the report, and what she'd gathered together had been incredible, all things considered, but Sophie was used to deadlines being forgotten, or moved up to impossible times and her contributions being ignored. Well, impossible to people other than her. All it'd take was brewing her coffee with Red Bull again, and she'd be good to go.

She took several breaths outside the door. That could've gone better. Understatement of the century.

This will be worth it, this will be worth it, she kept silently repeating to herself. One day, all these long hours, the vacations she never had would be the stepping stones to her massive success. All she had to do was be miserable for a little while longer. Maybe five, ten years. But this would rocket her to success, once she proved to the Administrator just how worthwhile she would be.

At the coffee pot, she saw Bidwell pouring something into his drink.

"Are we out of sweetener?" she said. Oh, sugar. That was probably the word she should've used. She cleared her throat. "Creamer. Sugar. Nutri-sweet, I guess that's a word that works...."

Bidwell paid no mind to her ramble. He was well used to it by now. "Oh, no. Crushed caffeine pills. I'll probably die, but Saxton Hale--he has another meeting. And he's being picketed by protestors. He already took a swing at three of them. I was able to lure him in with a steak, but he isn't hungry anymore, so there's going to be more---you get the idea."

Keeping their mascot--as the Administrator referred to him--in line was something else. He never saw an animal he didn't want to fight, and somehow he couldn't get it through his thick skull that this wasn't the sixties and animal rights groups would gladly flay him alive and use his skin as a pelt in their quest against fur and animal punching.

"Oh, good luck on that," she said.

He nodded sadly.

"He thinks Greenpeace has hired a hitman to take him out. He's so excited at the prospect of hunting the hunter or something." Bidwell rubbed at his temples. "And he wants to go yeti hunting. I keep trying to tell him they don't exist, but he went online and read some conspiracy theorist pages. Crypt-deeds or something. We're climbing Mt. Everest next week."

"Hang in there. You're strong, you'll make it out alive. Er, probably, that is," she said. She smiled awkwardly, and reached to pat his shoulder. It was only as she pulled back, and his surprised, even dismayed expression, that she realized it could've been taken as a come on. Which was very against the company rules, and very much not in her intention.

"Um, not like that! I'm just not that into you---I mean other than a fr--fellow office worker. Did I mention you have great taste in clipboards!"

"Sophie?" Bidwell said.

"I mean, I just see you as a fri--worker, coworker! I'm not hitting on you at all!" She laughed nervously and started inching away. Oh, god, could this get any worse?

"Oh, three hours of sleep again?" Bidwell said.

"Two, actually," Sophie said. "This is my third cup of Red Bull coffee in the past hour. Oh, and it just kicked in; I can see two of you right now. And if you could not mention this um--"

"No worries. Last time I went on two hours of sleep for two weeks, I talked to people who apparently weren't there, and tried to climb into the television," Bidwell said. He sighed and shook his head. "This job does things to us."

Sophie nodded understandingly. She too had once tried to climb into a television. To be fair it'd been more falling than climbing, and she'd chased the Red Bull coffee with several shots of tequila, but who was counting?

As Bidwell left, she pulled out her phone.

"Phew, that was close."

Disaster didn't even begin to describe her dating life. Her life was seeing tons of cute people of different genders she didn't have time to flirt with, let alone date. In the end, she'd just drink more to squelch down any loneliness which slipped up and got in the way of her dreams.

When she a legendary businesswoman, then she'd have time to date. Or maybe they'd just be so impressed with all her resume, then she wouldn't have to date. They'd come right to her. She'd have a huge address book full of contacts, some romantic and some business. Maybe some would even fit both, if the Administrator's tumultuous affairs were any indicator.

She sighed and took a sip of her Vodka and Red Bull chaser, thankful for not the first time that vodka didn't leave as noticeable a scent on her breath. It was going to be a long night.

*

It'd been a long time since Sophie had been forced to get this deep to figure out a market. Thankfully, she'd been moved from the wastelands of the New Mexico branch to the sleek Boston branch, otherwise she'd be jetlagged and hungover right now, as opposed to just hungover. At least she wouldn't have to go through a flight, because The Administrator did not lend out her jet, and she didn't pay for anything more than coach, either. Not surprising, given her mantra was closer to screw your expense than spare no expense.

Sophie craned her neck to look down the street. Southie had once been notorious for crime lords ruling over a mostly Irish-Catholic set, but nowadays there were a lot more yuppies and hipsters than mafiosos.
Scout actually remembered those days, and apparently played it up to give him more of a 'bad boy' edge. She'd only skimmed a bit in her research, but one of the shorter vlogs (only one hour, due to a video malfunction) had mentioned much about a mafia lord who had ruled their area, and he'd almost worked for.

Apparently, it was a theme, given that he'd yelled out "Back in my day, you would've been in the ditch! If you were from where I was from, you'd be fuckin' dead!

The grass was cut down too short, to the point where she was surprised it hadn't turned brown and died. The pavement was cracked, and covered with pastel chalk. She tilted her head, only to realize it was chalk drawings of cartoonish breasts and a several erect penises with very hairy balls.

"And Hemmingway thought his generation was lost," she muttered to herself.

She bent to look for a doorbell. The brick walls were covered with ivy and moss, but they didn't hide away any secret doorbells. She knocked at the dark blue door. No response. Crap, that's what she got for underestimating a Youtuber. To be fair, most of them never left the house because they were too busy video editing, or working. A part of her wanted to put finger quotes around working.

Finally, she pulled out her phone and inputted the number she'd gotten from the bottom of his wikia page, followed by Pretty ladies, give me a call.

"Yo, this is Liam. Don't recognize this number, so I bet you're a cute lady, huh?"

Sophie cleared her throat. "Um, hello, I'm Sophie Pauling from Mann co. and TF industries I'm sure you've heard of us by now," she said.

"Aw yeah, I love it when I'm right. Heard of that, no. Heard of you? Not yet, but I sure am about to," Liam said.

She held the phone away from her, and stared at it with confusion. Not even two minutes into the conversation and he was already flirting with her. She'd suspected it'd happen, given the news segment, but not before she'd even spoken.

A window on the second floor opened, and he peered out. She couldn't tell if he was trying to gel his hair so he looked like somewhere between 'just had sex' and 'terrifying flashback to the nineties.' He smirked as he looked her over. Somehow he managed to be even douchier than on the screen. She honestly hadn't thought it possible.

He looked much younger than his age. Had she not known his real age, she would've guessed him to be twenty-one at most, though she attributed that to the swag shirt. He broke out in a grin and came closer.

"So, tell me gorgeous, what brings you here? You watch my channel? Of course you do. Which one? Gamin' or exercisin'?"

"...as I told you, I represent Mann co. and TF Industries I'd like to speak with you."

"What, you a paper? You goin' to interview me for the news? Just did one, but I'm happy to tell everyone about me. Hell, call your competitor, I'll talk to them, too!"

"Not quite. I represent a multi-billion dollar company with varied assets, largely in media," she said. Technically, it was more complicated than that, considering TFI was in bed with Mann co. Literally, considering Saxton Hale and the Administrator's stormy affair.

"So like, a paper, but cyber, and from the future?" Liam said.

Erm, how to explain this? She bit on her lip. Generally the Administrator preferred her to not relay the scattered bodies of former corporations they'd devoured over the years.

"--As I said, we work in media, and you caught my boss's attention."

"Mmm! Come on innnn," Liam said. She backed towards the doorway. To her surprise, she found it open in seconds. Either her was incredibly fast, or he had some kind of pole shortcut.

She mentally put down either moonlights as a stripper or has a fireman fetish under a mental note. She'd definitely have to look into that one. In fact, her mind gave her the kind of mental images she wasn't looking for. She'd blame it on that shirtless one, which she'd had to watch multiple times for certain reasons which were entirely professional.

He had a large camera set up. Somewhere between the point where she'd seen him peeking out the window and getting downstairs, his shirt had come off. She was thankful--not just because it felt like it'd been decades since she saw abs. The last shirt had a 'U' in the place of 'you' in a sentence. He pulled on another one with a BONK logo across of it, as slowly as possible in a way calculated to show off as much of his abs as possible.

Okay, he was a douche, but he was a cute douche.

He met her at the door about a minute later. He was taller than expected, and his clothes were a lot less loose than she thought they'd be. She'd certainly never seen him stream in jeans that tight. The newest addition was a Red Sox cap on, with the headset microphone that she'd seen so many of the Let's Players wear.

There was a large flatscreen TV on the wall, with the dark cords of a large boxy video game system attached to the side. Predictably, she had no idea what system it was. Right across from the systems was an overstuffed couch, a shade of mud brown, with a fleece blanket thrown over the back. Everything else was shades of varying browns and beige. She was reminded of her years spent in New Mexico.

"C'mon in, I was just startin' up to record. Usually I do my tapin' in the back, but I pulled out here for a change. Figured my 69ers would dig a difference."

It wasn't exactly the sleek mansion of a multi-millionaire. She discreetly glanced around. She supposed that this was the difference from an internet millionaire and someone who gained it by buying companies.

"Hey, pick up a controller, I'm streamin' in a little bit, but I want to do some quality recordin' first. You can be my guest for today."

"What?" she said. "I think you're mistaken, I--"

"You wanna interview me, right? Play me for it. Best two out of three and I'll give you more than the usual set," Liam said.

"...Excuse me?" she said.

He held up the controller. "C'mon, be my player two."

She narrowed her eyes. "And what if you win?"

"Hmm, haven't thought about that yet. I'm sure I'll think of somethin' you'll enjoy," Liam said. He gave her a sultry, sidelong glance. She shifted in her seat. Somehow the room seemed much hotter than it did a few minutes ago.

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down to the controller. Obviously his ventilation must be broken. The room suddenly felt hot. She hadn't even had any Red Bull, coffee with a shot of vodka in the past few hours (the last thing she needed was to go through the streets looking like she was inebriated, or worse, tripped out on some kind of substance.)

"Do you always treat people trying to interview you this way?" Sophie said.

"Only the cute ones," Liam said.

But her boss didn't take no for an answer. 'He was uncooperative, so I gave him the finger and left' also wasn't an applicable answer. And to be fair, it was still much easier than dealing with Saxton Hale. He hadn't even tried to wrestle a single wild animal.

"Let me make this clear: Multi-billion dollar company. That is a lot of zeros, even more than the number of your subscribers! Do I have to throw money at you to get your attention?" Sophie said.

"You already got my attention, trust me," Liam said.

He fiddled with the camera until a red light shone. The tripod was so distracting, she couldn't figure out how he could stay so natural and ignore it.

"Because I'm trying to interview you, for Mann co. This could be a very profitable venture for you-- wait, is this being filmed?" Sophie turned back, grimacing at the camera.

"Yup, you caught me in the middle of workin'. I'll edit the shit out of it, though, so no worries. And don't be afraid to scream if you gotta. I've almost sound-proofed this entire place. The fans want screamin', and that's what we're goin' to give them," Liam said.

We're. She pursed her lips. She'd had stranger requests, believe it or not.

"Why the screaming? I don't really get the appeal. It's like that...dubwalk thing."

"Dubstep?" Liam said. He smiled knowingly. "I'm more a classic rock kind of guy, personally. Queen, Tom Jones, Steppenwolf...The problem is half the time I can't ask anybody out to see my bands because they kicked it ages ago. That's what I get for havin' taste." Liam chuckled and shook his head. "Man, if I could go back in time, I'd see so many concerts. And punch Hitler, of course."

"Oh, of course," she said.

Liam grinned. "Anyways, It's great to get all the frustration out. Most of these chucklenuts are goin' through their lives always noddin' and sayin' yes and never punchin' out that asshole that needs a knuckle sandwich. Well, I'll be their mentor and teach them how to punch out everyhin' they need to, one scream at a time."

"By playing video games and...screaming?" she said.

"Oh, I ain't just playin' games. Actually, this is a side one. I started out with an exercise one. I put up a gamin' one just as an extra while I was talkin' about the next week's workout, and people were really down with it. So I did this side thing. Turns out my side hustle made me mad rich--though the exercisin' already was gettin' me up there. You ain't seen my other channel yet? Seriously, go check it out. You'll totally love it," Liam said. He smirked.

Youtube didn't allow adult content, so he couldn't moonlight as a porn star there at the very least. She opened up a video on her phone, and clicked to the next channel. An autoplay video started of Scout in a very short, very tight pair of jogging shorts.

"Butt stuff! Butt times! Butt slappin' times!" He screamed as he did a bunny hop, and slapped his ass. She flushed and tried to turn the phone off, but only managed to almost lose her phone on the couch. His near pornographic screams came loud over the tinny speakers.

Liam laughed. "Did my ass scare you that much?"

Sophie's cheek's flushed bright red. "I didn't expect a strip spanking show!"

Liam only laughed more. "Nobody expects the Spanish Spankiquision!"

She heard him moan Butt stuff! before she finally grabbed the phone from between the seat cushions and desperately muted it.

She tried to steady her breathing, only to realize she'd started blushing again. She hadn't had a date in years. Her body couldn't take another wet t-shirt contest or youtuber slapping his (admittedly, very nice) ass.

"So you're doing pseudo-porn for views, that's your deal?" Sophie said.

"Pseudo-porn?" He burst out laughing. "Nah, it started as a dare and then I just went with it. Like sweatin' to the oldies, but hot. It's fun, and people enjoy it. Some people apparently gave it a try and are now runnin' marathons. I met a few of them at the last one here in Boston. It was real nice. They looked up to me, and now are workin' their asses off with their runnin'."

"And the video gaming thing--this 'let's play' was just a dare as well?" Sophie said.

"After I got out of the clink, I couldn't work, and my brother was in there for a bar fight, so I recorded stuff for him to catch up with. Then people just started following me out of the blue. I was so psyched when I got a whole hundred subscribers." he shook his head and laughed. "I was just so thrilled. Now look at that. I got tons and tons more, and this train ain't goin' to stop. I'm goin' to go into the gazillions eventually. I'll make a whole room of diamond play buttons."

He flipped the brim of his cap. "I'm thinkin' maybe of startin' a rec center or somethin' for kids. I've been doin' charity streams for hospitals around here, but I thought maybe I'd take care of some of the other kids. Maybe put in another sandlot, I don't know."

He obviously had no problem with confidence. But there was something underneath that intrigued her. A self-made billionaire, who had carved out a job where there'd once been none. Maybe she'd dismissed him too early.

"Fine, fine. I'll play you," she said. "I have to warn, I don't know how to do any of this at all."

Considering there'd been a supplier who'd demanded she play Russian roulette with him, and finish it up with a game of stabbing the knife between fingers, his request neared being reasonable.

"That's no problem. We'll just go nice and slow, and have some fun," Liam said. He flicked by a catoonishly retro game which he had over five thousand hours in as he searched through a massive library of games.

"Five thousand hours?" she said. She couldn't imagine playing the same game for that amount of time. Actually, she could barely imagine having enough time to play any video game, period.

"Oh man, I had more, but Steam fucked up my hours. I had to idle to get 'em back up. You can't even go pro until you get super high. The streamers will just laugh you out of the clans. Yeah, they're assholes like that."

She'd only heard secondhand about the more notorious aspects of gaming culture. The Administrator had requested (see: demanded) a report on it, and how it could be used to the company's gain, but it had been sidelined with this conundrum.

He started to scroll down, then quickly went back up. He pulled out his phone, which had a group of him and several other Let's Players doing some kind of strange synchronized sneeze, though the only one she could name outright was Markiplier.

"Yeah, I play this quick little loudmouth. You might recognize his name. It's where I got my handle from. Ooh, ooh, you gotta see this guy's intro video. It's great, I love this dude!"

He pulled up a youtube video on his phone, where a cartoonish short started. A thin guy flexed, bragged, ran faster than bullets, and somehow managed to beat up a man over twice his size, after mugging for the camera. She had to admit, there was a striking resemblance between them. Especially that grin.

"So it's a coincidence?" She said.

"I mean, they claim it is, but I'm pretty sure one of the designers hung around Boston at some point, saw me and inspired him. Sometimes I dress up as 'em and do skits. It's fun, I chilled with his voice actor once. He's funny, though he's got the Boston accent all wrong. Sounds more like a bastardized Brooklyn." Liam scrunched his nose. "I tried to give him lessons on how to do the Boston right, but he says that's what the bigwigs wanted. I guess I gotta go to Lord Gaben to get a decent accent in the place. I mean, the guy loves baseball but he doesn't even mention the Sox. No self-respectin' Southie guy is goin' to leave it like that. Then people might think you're a Yankees fan."

"That would be awful," she said absently. She checked the time on her phone. It'd already been over ten minutes and she hadn't even begun to interview him.

"I know, right? That's just what I was sayin'," Liam said.

"Is that what we're going to play?" she said.

"Nah, I'd have to wrangle a bunch for Mann vs Machine, and I'm not goin' to take you out on a random server. They're fuckin' wild out there. Hackers, ponyfucker mods, and the worst of all: Yankees fans!"

Her eyes widened at the second part. In the end, she decided her mind was better off not knowing exactly what he was referring to.

He finally settled on something called Rocket League, except it had little to do with actual rockets and everything to do with cars....and soccer balls.

"Playing soccer with cars?" she said.

"Yeah. Brilliant, huh?"

If she was the kind of person who made bets, she would've bet thousands that the inception had come while the game developers were seriously drunk.

"Does it have a training class? A---" She tried to think of the exact term. "--Tutorial!"

"Life don't got a tutorial. You gotta just jump in and find your way. Besides, the worse you play, the funnier it'll be," Liam said.

"Scout, I literally have no idea what these buttons do," she said.

"Call me Liam," he said.

"Liam--"

"Ding-Dong, life's callin', and it's sayin' that you gotta go get that ball!"

The loaded screen turned to a sports field. Numbers appeared on the screen. She mashed at the buttons, in hopes that one of them would get her near the ball. Except all it did was make her car do a flip. She let out a shriek and nearly pulled the cord out of the console as her car rolled across the screen. He let out a whoop as scored a goal. Somehow, he managed to wrangle the controls enough to make it actually work for two seconds. She tried to right her car, but it was like trying to walk in heels on buttered ice. She went soaring everywhere but the ball.

Liam laughed. "This is like some friggin' air show, it's a frickin' work of art."

Her landing, however, wasn't so graceful. She crashed right in the middle of his attempt to land another goal. They slammed into her, and they went sailing across the field, like it was some kind of waltz.

To complete the effect, he even hummed a number she could swear was Stauss, but that could be just wishful thinking on her part.

She let her controller fall to her lap as the final numbers came in.

"You win," she said. No surprise; she hadn't played a video game...ever, actually.

"Hell no, this ain't over yet. Besides, I need way more for a video."

"You'd forfeit a win?" she said.

"This is way too much fun to stop."

"For you, maybe. I'm just making a jackass out of myself," she said.

"It's great. I won't even have to edit it much with how this is goin'," Liam said.

"I'm doing great by... playing horribly?" she said.

"Yeah! That's the good stuff. Fuckin' up is funny. Who wants to see somebody doin' a better job than them? Nobody, that's who. They wanna see some jackass fuckin' up, and my callin' in life is to be that jackass."

By the second round, she kind of had an idea what the buttons did. She slammed her little cart thing into the ball and it went flying, but somehow so did she, and then he was soaring above her. Liam burst out laughing, and despite it all, so did she. It was infectious, and somehow thrilling, as the crash, the announcer's voice came over. She couldn't even tell who had gotten the goal, nor did she care. It was a giddy, wonderful feeling either way.

Liam rose up in a cheer. "That was great!"

"I can't even tell who won this one," Sophie said.

"I think we both won. You want a pizza? I'm freakin' starvin' over here. We can multitask."

"Wait, if we both won, then...what was your wish?"

He lifted his eyebrows suggestively. "We had the same wish, more or less. You could say mine was already filled, though."

"Yours was to be interviewed?" she said.

"Nah, mine was to hang out with you," Liam said. "So, whatcha want?"

Before she could respond, he already reached for his phone. He apparently had the pizza place in his contacts, as he had it up in seconds. "You got anythin' you want in particular?'

"The more meat the better, and no pineapples," she said.

"Man, I like you more and more," Liam said.

Liam frowned as his phone beeped. "I gotta take this. Just gimme a few. Feel free to play around. Just don't erase my stuff. That would be frickin' tragic."

"I wouldn't even know how," she said.

"Good, keep that thought--" He put the phone to his ear and disappeared down the hall.

Sophie put her attention to her controller, and focused on figuring out the scheme. After about three rounds with the computer, she'd almost somewhat figured out how to play the damn thing when the doorbell rang.

Liam leapt up and handed the delivery boy two bills. "Keep the change. For tips, you know? Mmm, thanks, my man, this looks great!"

"You paid?"

"My treat," Liam said.

The kitchen was for lack of another word, nostalgic. From the faux wooden panel walling, to the speckled counters, it looked like something right out of the seventies. The wooden table had several dents, and scratches over the years. Over the top was a plastic tablecloth covered with birds.

He opened up the pizza box and took a deep breath. "Mmmm, gotta love that new pizza smell. I love their cheese crust. You gotta try it. Wait, you a big eater? Because I might have to order more."

"Not really," she said. "I think we'll be fine."

He pulled out several paper plates from one of the cupboards. "You need a drink?"

The flask at her thigh holster had been whittled down before she'd even reached here, and she'd left her water bottle in the car.

"Sure."

He rattled off a list of various drinks, mostly sports drinks, energy drinks, and a variety of soda.

"Just surprise me," she said.

He returned with two sports drinks from a brand she didn't recognize.

"Tell me what you think, I'm considerin' a sponsorship," he said.

She glanced at the label before she took a swig. In bright blue letters, it had Arctic Freeze Extreme written across a white background. She couldn't say it tasted like licking a flagpole, or shoving snow in her mouth, if that's what they were going for.

"I'm not sure I'm the market for this kind of thing. It feels like you need to be dunking a hoop while speed biking to get the proper effect."

He burst out laughing. "Oh my God, that's amazin'. Tell me before you drop some awesome burn so I can film it. Wait--"

He checked his phone, and let out a cheer. "Yeah, I got it!"

"You what? What are you playing that....Hokeyman Go or something?" she said.

"Oh, I got this app to keep up with my streamin'. It's connected to all my mics and camera. Turns out, I left the one on my face on. It means I'll have to cut out a lot of pizza boy talk, but it's all worth it for that gem. I mean, as long as you're down with it bein' used."

"Um, if you want to," she said.

"Really? Great!" he fiddled with his phone. After a few seconds of working with the app, he set the phone aside.

"All right, tell me about yourself," he said.

"I think you got this mixed up. I'm supposed to be asking this. Otherwise it would be like--" she said. She cut herself off before she said the word date. Dating had reached mythological status with her life.

He leaned in. "But I wanna know all about you. It's not every day some cute reporter girl just drops out of the sky," Liam said.

"I'm not really a reporter, and I didn't fall from the sky--you can leave the bad did it hurt when you fell from heaven pick up lines behind. Secondly, I can't help but be surprised. I've definitely seen plenty of press about you." she said.

"Sure, I get offers, but none as cute as you," Liam said.

"I can't believe you aren't jumping at the chance to talk about yourself. Your vlogs average eight hours," she said.

"Trust me, it's killin' me. But you're way too neat, I gotta know more."

She'd honestly thought it would be so much easier to get him to talk about himself. "I'll tell you later. Right now, we need to focus on you."

"How about we trade, hmm? Deets for deets."

In the strangest turn of her life, Liam Dempsey wasn't even providing her with the interview she'd had all planned out. By all means, given his vlogs, getting him to talk should've been the easiest thing imaginable. But he was determined.

"Fine," she said. "I'm going to be recording this. If you want something left out, just tell me," she said.

"Go ahead. You need samples? I got tons of videos if you need samples," Liam said.

"That won't be necessary," Sophie said.

"So, if this isn't for a paper, does that make it a job interview?"

"A sponsorship interview would be closer," she said.

"Neat, I love gettin' those. You get so much free swag. Like that

He lifted up his piece of pizza and took a bite. "Mmm, this stuff is great. You should try some."

"I'll get to that in a moment," she said. She cleared her throat. "What would you say drove you into this field?"

"Goin' to jail kinda puts a damper on shit. I was broke as fuck kid and I lost a bunch of years for liftin' some stuff. You? I bet you ain't been in jail," he said.

"What are you asking? What drove me into this field, or whether I've been to jail?"

"Both," Liam said.

He was sneaking things past her. She narrowed her eyes. "I see what you're doing."

He couldn't help but smile. "Maybe you do, but I'm pretty fast. Faster than the human eye can follow. I got speed records."

She could fight it, or she could just play along and give him scraps enough to keep this interview going. She put off the inevitable by taking several more bites of pizza. She'd have to remember the maker, because this was honestly some of the best pizza she'd ever had. And not just because she'd forgotten to eat that day again.

She wiped her mouth, and continued on. "When I was young, I read a lot of books. I came across this memoir of a businesswoman, and I wanted to be just like that. And here I am now, assistant to The Administrator herself," she said.

"The Administrator?" he said.

"The Administrator, you know, the head lady of TFI!"

"Never heard of her," Liam said.

She could only gape. Everyone knew about The Administrator. Even Amish folks who wouldn't go near technology knew about The Administrator. She was just that iconic. And she was everything that Sophie would be one day, just as soon as she put enough work in.

"Head of TFI, crushes the business world under her Gucci boots, top of all the business and media lists--ringing a bell?"

"Nah, I don't pay attention to stuff like that."

Of course, his world was video games and skits involving fart jokes and making his pecs dance. And jumping around in short shorts and screaming about "butt stuff" apparently.

"Did you have a dream of doing something like this as a child? A big dream," she said.

"I didn't even know that was a friggin' option. Everybody was like 'you'll never amount to anythin' unless you stay in school and stop gettin' in fights.' I didn't do any of that, and here I am a friggin' millionaire. All I do is scream at video games, work out, and I get better views than half the crap you see on TV. I'm the friggin' king of Youtube, even if they won't give me the frickin' Diamond play button they owe me."

"No plans? None at all?" Even as she tried to keep her expression neutral, the sheer incredibility came out. She had a rigid twenty-year plan drafted by the time she was fifteen. The thought of winging his entire life--and dropping out, no less--was incomprehensible.

Liam scratched his cheek. "Eh, that ain't entirely true. I wanted to play for the Sox. Thought about goin' to the Olympics as a track star. Winnin' some medals, then havin' a whole trophy room. Maybe I still will. The jail record makes it a lot harder, though."

She finally took a bite of her pizza. The warm, gooey taste filled her mouth, and all she could do was close her eyes to savor the flavors. "Mmm, this is good."

"Told ya," Liam said. He smiled at her, with just a hint of suggestiveness. "So, what are you into?"

"What do you mean? Like who I'm attracted to? Because--"

"I was referrin' to like hobbies and crap, but if you wanna go that route, I sure as hell ain't goin' to stop you."

Sophie stared down at her pizza, to try and hide her awkwardly rosy cheeks. "Oh. Um, right. At the moment I'm focusing everything into my work. Which is an answer to both your questions, and the one where you try to get me to go out with you later on," Sophie said.

"Ooh, you're psychic?" Liam said

"You couldn't be more obvious if you had a neon flashing marquee on your forehead."

Liam snickered. "Ooh, that's a great burn. Hit me one!" He lifted up his fist.

"I have no idea what you want me to do."

"You don't know what a brofist is? Holy shit. Okay, you gotta make a fist, and bump mine."

"This is all pretty ridiculous--"

"If by 'ridiculous' you mean 'awesome' then yeah, totally 'ridiculous."

"No, I mean it's---Oh, fine." She liftly bumped his fist with her own. Hell, it was more of a boop than a bump, but he seemed satisfied.

Liam burst into a big grin. "There you go!"

And for a moment, she almost got it. Ego and all, there was something down to earth, like the friend people craved, that one who always got into incredible situations and dragged his friends along, the one with all the stories, and could always bring a smile to everyone.

Or at least, the one everyone else seemed to want. As this realization formed, she couldn't help the thought that came with it: I wonder what my life would be if I had someone like that in it.

If I had him in it.

She took another bite of pizza to distract her mind. Her lack of dating was obviously becoming a problem if she was considering going out with a client.

The day wore down. She packed her phone, and he put away the pizza boxes.

"I'll be in touch to let you know what my boss says," she said.

"Don't be a stranger. You got my phone number?" He listed it off.

"I was the one who called you," she said.

"Oh yeah," Liam said sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck. She found herself distracted by the movement of his hands, his bare arms, which had seemed reedy at first, but showed to be filled with taut muscles.

She had to get out of here before she started thinking of something really dangerous, like his arm about her waist.

"Anyways--Thank you for the food," she said.

"Anytime. You wanna just chill and stream with me, come on over. Seriously, I'll bring pizza, show you all the great food sights around Boston. Oh man, I never even got to ask you if you been here long."

"Um, thank you for the offer, but I'll be busy finishing up this report for my boss. Some people have to actually have jobs that don't involve playing video games," she said.

Liam looked more than a little concerned. "Man, I feel for people like that. That must really suck."

"Oh, no need. My job is great, really. Rather intensive, but it'll all pay off in the end."

"Oh, that's good. You're a great reporter, and I'm sure you're boss will be stunned." Liam gave her a thumbs up.

"Well, I certainly hope so," she said. "See you!"

He enthusiastically waved back. She glanced back once more as she made her way back to the street. The streetlights gave an orange glow across the road. It's going to be a long night she thought to herself as she opened her car.

*

Even after a late night fueled by caffeine, her report was still lacking. While she had a solid basis, there was something else critical that she'd missed somewhere. Even after a few hours of browsing other articles written on him, that one question her boss would ask was left unasnwered. As the time dwindled down, Sophie found her mind wandering to that day. Sometimes she'd think of him, and slowly smile at the silly games, the way he'd stacked his pizza and claimed that the body didn't know if you ate it all at once.

Not because she liked him, she emphatically didn't. Really. Not a bit. Not remotely. And she certainly hadn't returned to his exercise channel for some personal viewing that night. But an unsolved case would grate at her, and she still hadn't fully figured it out. The Administrator wasn't taking because they're all frat boy assholes as his reason for popularity, even though everything led to that conclusion.

She'd sent several texts, and tried calling three times. Each time it'd just gone to his voice mail. Yo, this is Liam Dempsey, or maybe you know me as the legendary Scout69...and yes, that user name is accurate. I'm off bein' awesome, so leave me a message and I'll get back with you. Especially if you're a cute lady lookin' for a good time, because good time is my middle name, and I am a pro at good times--seriously.

Which was how she ended up back in South Boston, knocking at his door.

A woman answered the door. Sophie took a step back. It took her a few moments to place the woman as someone who showed up in one of the charity videos. Her dark hair was swept back up in a classic beehive, and her blue cocktail dress didn't just come from a vintage shop, but had likely been boughten new some fifty years ago.

She glanced over Sophie with such a steely gaze, even the Adminstrator would've thought twice about speaking to her. But unlike the Administrator, this woman's steel was encased in a smile, like a fist in a silk glove.

"Hello, I'm trying to get ahold of Liam. Who must be your son, I think. At least I hope he's your son," she said.

"I'd hope so too," she said dryly. "The name's Colleen Dempsey, but if you're the reporter he's been on about, then I guess a hello's in order."

She remembered then the details she'd pulled up before. She simply hadn't immediately connected them, as this woman looked far too young for her years. Liam's mother was a woman aging so gracefully that Sophie was more than a little jealous of her genetics. After 8 boys and an age she wouldn't disclose, but a search on her phone revealed as being well over forty, she still looked like some glamorous star of a bygone era. From her beehive hair do, to the vintage pearls and red cocktail dress, she looked like she stepped right out of a film noir as the villainous dame.

"Well, I'm not a reporter per se, but that's neither here nor there. And, I'm Sophie Pauling." She held out her hand. "I work at TFI, you've likely heard of it."

"Can't say I ever have," Colleen said. She took Sophie's hand in a firm handshake.

"Really? Not even a little? Well, anyways-- Did the phone number change? I've been trying to get ahold of him all morning," she said.

"Oh, his phone broke," she said.

"From excessive selfies, I take it?" Sophie said.

The woman smiled. "Fell out of his pocket while he was out there on that skateboard, tryin' to take years off my life and give me gray hairs. Sons." She shook her head. "I got eight of them, and I swear he's tryin' to beat 'em all for makin' me worry."

"Yes, sorrry about that. Would you have any idea where he is now?" She said quickly. She had a feeling talkativeness ran in the family.

"Oh, probably off skateboardin' again. Or chasin' after girls. He's good at that."

For her sake, she hoped it was the former. The last thing she wanted to do was have to check around to the hotels and be introduced to post-sex Liam.

She pulled out her phone and did a quick search. Good thing she had unlimited data with the amount of extra research on the go this case was taking.

"The Lynch Family skate park?"

"That's probably the one. Who knows with him, though?"

"Well, that's a start," Sophie said.

She chuckled. "He didn't tell me he had a girlfriend, a pretty determined one, too. Don't tell me he knocked you up---"

Sophie blushed bright red and clung tighter to her phone. "Oh, no, no no. I'm just here to interview him. We're not like that at all. Really not like that. And I'm very, very unpregnant. Extremely not pregnant, in fact. There's few people in the world who are as not pregnant as I am---"

Colleen lifted her dark eyebrows. Sophie realized she was only digging herself deeper.

"Anyways, thank you. I have to go track him down. Bye now!"

"Uh-huh, see you."

She rushed off before she could make anymore of a fool of herself.

*

The Lynch family skate park was quite busy for a work day. She walked down the--she wasn't quite sure what they were called. Half pipe? Swirly thing that probably lead to broken bones? She had a feeling the latter was more accurate, even if it wasn't the official name.

He flipped the skateboard in the air. She didn't know the terms, but whatever it was, he killed it.

His jeans were ripped all over. He already had a series of band-aids across one knee. His shirt, with the logo for some sports drink clung to his body, like it was a size too small. Funny that he should change his fashion (if they could be called that) habits so quickly. In the photos, he largely wore shirts at least two sizes too small, and pants so comicly high, he looked like he was trying to impersonate an old man. Or trying to set some kind of reverse trend involving very high-waisted pants. Whichever.

"Massive air," Liam said. He came to a rolling stop. "Sophie! Long time no see! "So, you needed more material? Or you needed more of me?" Couldn't get enough of me, huh? You ever skateboarded? D-Did you see that Ollie? Incredible, huh?"

"Yes, I saw it...didn't know it was called that. No. Unlike your doctor, I prefer my internal organs inside my body, thank you," she said.

"Aw, you're missin' out. I could teach you," Liam said.

"You're not going to turn me into Shawn White overnight."

"Well, considerin' Shawn is a snowboarder, I probably won't," Liam said wryly.

"That was the joke," she said, quickly catching herself. Sports stars blended together unless they caught the interest of the Administrator. She only knew the name Shawn White intimately because she'd handled a powerpoint of some of his branding and accomplishments earlier on last year.

"I mean, Tony Eagle," she said.

"You mean Tony Hawk? Wait, was that more jokin'?" Liam said.

"Of course," she said quickly.

"Well, the first part is just stayin' on the board. This one's big enough for the both of us," Liam said.

"Wait, I have things to get to. Can't we---"

"Can't hear you over the sound of this thrashin' major air!"

Liam took off down a ramp, and did another flip in the air of his board. He winked at her as he pulled another "ollie" or whatever he called it.

"I'm not paid enough for this," she muttered under her breath as she hurried to follow him. Running in heels was no joke, but they were mandated as proper work attire for someone barely hitting 5'1. The business might as well state you must be this tall to not offend the boss. She'd worn flats once and her boss sent her home and said if she ever did this again, she'd be cleaning out her desk.

"If I do your lesson, will you finish up this work?!"

Liam balanced his board at an angle.

"Sure," Liam said. "I thought we got all this done."

"Well--so did I, but I wanted more details before I make it final," Sophie said. She swallowed, very aware of the raise of pulse in her veins.

He came to a rolling stop near her. "The heels are sexy, but they gotta go. You'll be eatin' pavement if you try and do those."

She bent down to pull them off. At least she hadn't worn the Gucci heels she'd bought in hopes that her boss would stop giving her bargain bin K-mart heels the stink-eye every time she walked out.

"In fact, let's chill out, take it nice and slow," Liam said.

He shifted from leg to leg, almost like a dance, and then twisted the board around in a slow motion.

"Thaaat's a little too advanced for me," she said.

"Nah, not yet. I'm just showin' off," Liam said.

"You? Showing off? I can't believe it," she said dryly.

"You know what they say: If you got it, flaunt it," Liam said.

"I don't think they meant it to be taken as a personal mantra like you have," she said.

"I can't help it. When I go, I go hard," Liam said.

She tentatively stepped onto the board. Just as she started to wobble, he caught her about the waist. It was probably some kind of flirtation--most things with him were--but she was glad to not be eating pavement. Liam held on for a few moments, as he checked to make sure she wasn't falling.

Come to think of it, this was the closest she'd come to human contact in a long time. She became very aware of the scent of him, the feel of his chest to her back. He slowly let go, and she tried to steady her breathing.

"There you go, nice and easy...."

Her heart sure wasn't going nice and easy. Though she was tempted to rest her palm over her chest, the last thing she needed was to fall. She'd have to suck it up and go to the doctor for the heart palpitations she'd been having.

At least, the ones where he wasn't around. She was beginning to fully get why she had these episodes of racing heartbeat around him.

"We're, um, supposed to do this together?" she said.

"It's way more fun this way," Liam said.

"You're totally goin' to fall if you don't hold on," he said.

He pushed the board forward, and held each of her hands to keep her steady. With both their weights, the board kept balanced, and they inched along down the skate park.

"See, you're doin' it, you're doin' it. You didn' event fall on your face," Liam said.

"Which is some kind of victory, I guess," she said.

"Better than me. When I started I wore out so many pairs of jeans. Blew out the knees. My Ma was so pissed," he said.

He hopped off first. She held out her hands for balance. Maybe it was the heat from the sun, or lack of sleep making her delirious, but she actually missed the feel of his hands about hers, and the feel of his arms about her waist.

Obviously, she had put off dating far too long, if she'd react like this. She awkwardly bent to put her heels back on, thankful for any excuse to look away, and hide the blush growing over her cheeks. The more she tried not to think about it, the more she remembered his warm breath against her neck, and the heat of his skin on hers.

Pull yourself together, Pauling!

"You wanna grab a bite to eat?" Liam said.

"I see right through you, buster. You're just trying to get a date out of this," she said.

He broke out laughing. "Buster? You sound like a time traveler from like, the fifties or somethin'. Whatever, I dig it, and those librarian glasses, too." He chuckled. "If it's takin' this long for you to figure it out, then I gotta flirt harder."

This time there was no stopping the blush, and she wasn't pulling it off as a sunburn. She tucked her dark hair behind her ears to give her something to do with her hands, other than something drastic like bunching up his shirt and putting those lips of his to good use.

"Oh, I figured it out," she said.

"You'd prefer workin' around here, with the music blastin' and the guys screamin' stuff like go get some?"

Even the mention of get some made her toes curl. She shook her head rapidly. It didn't make the thought go away.

"So, more interviews. You want Mickey D's?"

Sophie's upper lip curled in disgust. "Ugh, no. I had to eat there several times when I was in college. Never again."

"Oh, you more of a Burger King kind of gal, or are you aimin' for some classy sit-down place?"

"I--How about Subways? We can have the interview there. It's nutritious, reasonably priced, and I like the decor--"

"Sounds like you got paid to say that. They sponsor you or somethin'?" Liam said.

"What? No, I work in media. I've overseen some commercials, but nothing like that," she said.

"Health nut, huh? I respect that. I run tons a day," Liam said.

The only running she was doing lately.was to meet deadlines. "I work late. I end up at delis. The Subways nearest me is 24 hours."

He didn't even question that she had returned. Then again, with his giant ego, he probably thought she was just coming back to flirt or ogle him.

Well, he was an enigma. Her boss demanded a connection other than frat boys and drunkenness, and she just didn't have one. She'd started several paragraphs about how he was the ideal friend, like something out of a sitcom, but when she was sober, it came off rambling, and she'd had to scrap it.

"It's real great to see you on my doorstep again. Didn't expect it, but the best parts are the unexpected, you know? I mean you didn't even leave a number. I tried this one, but I got caught up with this Bidwell guy, and then I was bein' screamed at by an Australian."

"Oh, you got the wrong wing. Here," she said. She held up her phone. "Actually, it'd be easier if I just text you."

She tried to think of what to say in the text, even if he was only a few inches away and it was just. She settled on a emoji of a smile. In seconds, Liam back a winking emoji.

He smirked. "You kept my number!"

"We're negotiating a business deal. It'd be pretty careless of me to lose your number."

"Oh yeah, I'm all about business...the sexy business, the funny business..."

"How about you get into the eating business, given that I'm a deadline?" she said.

"Sub away," Liam said. He smirked again, sort of like the way when he said his user name.

He held open the door for her. Inside was wallpaper covered in city buildings, and vintage pictures. She'd studied in many a Subway through the years, and there was something calmingly nostalgic to her.

"I'm goin' for a meatball stucky, def. What about you?" Liam said.

"Stuckies? I don't think I've ever seen that mentioned on the menu. Is it a Boston thing?" she said.

"Yeah, they call 'em that around here," Liam said. "So, this other interview--"

"It's not the type of interview which gets things published. It's more something I'm relaying to my boss," she said.

"Oh, oh, whatcha got in mind with this sponsorship, anyways? A TV show? Because I totally have movie star good looks. I'm surprised Hollywood ain't bangin' down my door. I'm probably too raw for them."

And movie-star grade ego, too.

"I can't answer that," she said.

"Not even a little? I can keep a secret!"

"Uh-huh. Sure you can," she said.

"Hey, I managed to keep Michael's surprise birthday party a secret for months. I can keep secrets when it matters," Liam said.

"Frankly, I don't know. She just sent me on assignment," Sophie said.

"Hmm, mysterious. I like that! You know what you're goin' for? I'm thinkin' a meatball sub will be nice."

Her stomach said a meatball sub would be wonderful, but her belt that barely fit now said vegetarian would be better...especially with all the liquid calories she'd been taking in lately. At this rate, her liver had to be in a questionable state.

She settled for the chicken and cheese.

After toasted buns, cheese filling, and a bunch of vegetables in hopes to bolster her liver for the next Red Bull and vodka assault, they were settled in a corner booth. Liam took a big bite, and just dabbed at his chin.

"Ma is always tellin' me not to talk with my mouth full like some friggin' animal because I wasn't raised in a barn," Liam said.

"All right, we'll finish the interview in a little bit," she said.

"Technically, you owe me somethin' about you," Liam said.

"I'm on a deadline. I'll mail you a Q&A or something," Sophie said.

"Too on a deadline to tell me anythin', really? I bet you're some Woman in Black or somethin'. I know my good looks are out of this world, but I ain't an alien, honest. I was born and raised right here in Southie."

"My boss likes to keep things really mum," she said.

"Oh well. I guess it's kind of neat. I'll get to think of all the kinds of swag I'll get sent...and I'll get to see you again." Liam smiled.

She stared down at her phone, and brought up her notes. "What would you say your appeal is?" she said. Best to start out blunt.

He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture.

"Everythin'," Liam said.

He'd probably start listing off a wildly exaggerated cock size if she didn't stop him here.

"I mean, what do you think draws your audience? You mentioned it a bit there, about how screaming lets out some deep frustration--"

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That might explain the housewife audience I get. Or maybe they just really want a younger man."

Liam lifted his eyebrows suggestively. Before she could make a smart-ass remark, he continued on.

"The truth is, everybody wants a Cinderella story, they want the Cubs to win, you feel me? People like rooting for the underdog. And there ain't no dogs more under than me." He started to count off his fingers. "No dad in the picture, youngest of a bunch of brothers, dropped out of middle school, messed up and spent some years in the clink, only stumbled on all this crap by a chance. So, yeah, I treat my fans good. I make tons of videos thankin' them for all they gave me. I'm rollin' in the cash, and I really got the fans to thank for all that. I make sure to tell 'em all the time just how much this life means to me."

Hmm. An underdog story? She could play that angle. Perhaps his large target demographic with teenage boys was due to them wanting a more accessible role model. A career in professional sports or a rock star could seem cold, far off and impossible. But a drop out from a bad side of town who had gone to jail, and stumbled upon being a millionaire by pure chance, merely by playing video games? Any boy could put themselves in his shoes. And his closeness to his fanbase could give the illusion of a friendship, or mentor quality.

She quickly jotted this down in the notes section of her phone. Lately her memories wasn't what it had been, that matched with the heart palpitations meant a dreaded doctor's visit was near. She'd been putting it off for months.

"Okay, now it's your turn," Liam said.

"I already told you about me," she said.

"C'mon, that was a soundbyte," Liam said. "You didn't even say how long you've been here. You ain't native, that's somethin' I'd bet on."

She folded her stained napkin. "Well, I was here in college--Harvard, before you ask--but I ended up working on the New Mexico branch for quite some time. But I was transferred to the Boston offices recently."

"Transferred, huh? I'm glad, though. This city needs somebody like you in it. And it means we got to meet."

He folded his hand. The wrappers of his meatball sub were curled up into little balls. Only one bite was left. It wasn't much of a surprise that he ate fast. After all, he prided himself on his speed often in his videos.

"Aren't you going to eat that?" Sophie said.

"What, you hungry? There's some strays near our house. I usually save them somethin'. Well, I usually get them a few burgers from the dollar menu at Mickey D's. I probably still got time to visit there, considerin' they stay open all night...anyways," Liam said.

"So, Boston. Whatcha think about it? You been to Fenway yet?

"I really don't have anything other than work. I don't have a roommate, a pet, or a hobby, and no, I haven't really been anywhere."

"I can't even imagine that. Even playin' for one of those charity streams don't mean I can't even talk to people or have friends," Liam said.

She hadn't mentioned that little aspect to her job, but he'd figured it out through it all.

"It'll all be worth it in the end. I just have to keep working real hard for a little while more. Then, I'll eventually have whatever references I want. I'll be the kind of person who ends up in lists," she said. she couldn't quite keep the gushing giddiness out of her voice.

"If you don't give yourself a heart attack because of your not-nappin'-itis," Liam said.

"I'm not a doctor, but I know there's nothing called not-nappin'-itis," she said.

Liam tapped his temple. "I'm not a doctor, but I figure it just ain't been discovered yet. I go without my daily midday zz's and I get super cranky. See, that's why they make babies nap. To stop the not-nappin'-itis. But all the adults forget it, and it sets in bad. And before you know it, people are gettin' ponytails and leavin' their wives.

"You think there's a correlation between mid-life crisises and naps?"

"Sure. That and dehydration. So many people are hella dehydrated. They don't drink near enough water, and so they're tired all the time. Not enough Z's, not enough water. It messes people up, until they're sleepwalkin' into a car lot and comin' out with a fancy car they can't afford."

"Well, that's certainly, ah, an interesting theory," she said.

He grinned. "I'd like to think all my theories are interestin'."

She glanced at her phone, and had to do a double take. Shitshitshit It couldn't actually be a whole hour. She hadn't even gotten that much useful info in this. But oh, for a moment, she'd felt alive on his skateboard, the brush of wind and his skin against hers.

That didn't stop the crushing reality that the dry-cleaner closed in half an hour, and she had to pick up the Administrator's clothes.

She pushed her chair back. "--I've got to go!"

"Whoa, you leave the oven on?" Liam said.

"Worse, dry cleaning to be picked up!"

"Oh crap. Good luck with that!"

The most she could do was wave at him as she rushed out the door.

*

Somehow, she'd managed to not get a speeding ticket, and reach the dry cleaner's moments before it closed. Now, he was at a usual place: deep into the night with a report, like a college student pulling an all nighter in a Red Bull haze.

Thankfully, her old college habits hadn't let her down. She'd typed the report up in a tangle of caffeine, managed a solid three hours of sleep and came in early. Her hair didn't even look too hobo-esque today, as Scout was fond of describing so many things.

She looked over her report.

Liam Dempsey was in many ways, a conundrum, the new breed of internet billionaire. With over 50 billion subscribers, Liam has become a force, even making an appearance on the longrunning, irreverent cartoon South Park. Hailing from the once infamous South Side of Boston, a haven of the Irish mob that still haunts the memories of the inhabitants to this day, he speaks of an era we can only imagine.

"I remember Whitey Bulgar. He dated my cousin; she was one of them who lived. He used to give out turkeys on Thanksgivin' day. It wasn't until the people found out he was killin' all these girls that they started turnin' on them."

With the dot-com bubble, time has shown to be fragile. Perhaps the new Youtube billionaires will one day join them, however I believe they have sustainability. They remain an untapped resource, with much potential. They reach millions each day, and build extremely loyal fanbases. Few have dipped their toes into corporate sponsorship, and several of them, especially Liam and Markiplier, have raised millions of dollars in charity. Perhaps something more unscripted, like reality television shows, could be a way to expand both influence and bring in untold amounts of cash.

It lacked the dryness needed for a company report. It sounded more like some grand journalism piece. She thought about cutting adjectives. But in the end, she was too exhausted. Not even the red bull and vodka was helping. Words had blurred together about two hours ago.

She looked it over, and blinked. Liam, not Scout69. When had she become so thoroughly on a first name basis that it was a habit? Like muscle memory, it came automatic. She used a search and find command to switch it over.

With one last check, she rested her head on her desk. She'd done it. As long as The Administrator didn't completely reject it, she'd be done. Of course, there might be some deal later down the road. She sighed. Good thing the file was closed, because her face was pressed straight into her keyboard.

Then, this was it. No more interviews which turned into something like dates. Video games and pizza and laughter, a day at the skate park with the wonderful feel of his hands in hers.

It'd be completely back to work after this. God, the mere thought made her want to drink down an entire bottle of vodka.

Wait...

She rose up from the keyboard. She was fairly certain she had a W imprinted on her forehead now.

If the deal with Liam went through, and the Administrator became his sponsor, then they'd talk a lot more. A whole lot more. Maybe even on a daily basis. Like hell she'd let somebody else headhunt this job from her. After all, a good business woman kept her clients happy. And nothing would make him happier than her handling the case and spending however much time it took to keep him from going to another company.

Others played golf with clients, and she played video games and skated. Though they probably didn't skate the line of flirting that she and Liam had.

She rubbed at the back of her neck to try and ease the stiffness. The wallpaper was a clock with a motivational quote of reach for your dreams today, not tomorrow. For once, she took it literally, and closed down her computer for the night.

She pulled the covers up. But the caffeine hadn't quite worn out yet. Maybe she should've cut it with more vodka. She contemplated digging out another bottle for a nightcap, but a trip across the apartment seemed as far as a cross-country hike.

Instead, she reached for her phone and went straight to Youtube.

Technically, it didn't count as research anymore. That sure as hell didn't stop her. She went straight to one familiar channel, and clicked on the most recent video.

He grinned wide as he held up his hand with LOL written in sharpie on the side. She couldn't help but smile. No matter how bad the joke, or pick up line, there was something in his manner which was endearing.

It felt oddly comforting. She couldn't help but remember back to when they'd played video games together. Even if it'd been a work assignment, it was the closest she'd had to a vacation--or even a day off--in a long time.

I suppose you're my lullaby, she thought.

She laid back with the light of the screen like a nightlight.