"This idea is... Too problematic! We can shoot extra footage, but it's going to take extra time. Who's gonna pay for it?" Harrier said after listening to Derek's carefully worded and explained suggestion. "And isn't this all too convenient for you, anyway? Mr. Writfield, you are here because of Gemello, but the rest of us are here because of the contest!"
The loud and venomously spoken tirade would've made many people retreat on the spot. But Derek had much thicker skin than this.
He smiled politely.
"Mr. Harrier, although imperfect, this is a solution to your problems. Don't be so quick to refuse it. You can just air the show footage as it is on the national TV, but I'm sure that following my suggestion will bring you better results in the end. The worst thing in this situation would be doing nothing at all."
"Exactly, Mr. Harrier," a member of the producing team piped in tiredly. "We should do SOMETHING already. At this point, I'm ready for anything as long as it will be outside this room!"
The person was supported by nods from other people—those who weren't yet too apathetic to do even that.
Harrier scowled at Derek, but before he could speak, Derek continued.
"Mr. Harrier, why won't you ask the organizational committee what they would prefer? They are the ones who will pay for the extra footage if you agree to my idea."
"Humph. Perhaps. Does anyone have any other smart opinions about Mr. Writfield's suggestion?"
The opinions stayed the same as earlier: "Just do something already, please. Or at least stop tormenting us with these meetings!"
Sadly for this team, their producer loved meetings.
"I see. Damn, you ARE right—this is going nowhere. I will push your idea to the organizers. We will see what they think, Mr. Writfield. But..." Harrier narrowed his eyes.
"They surely will agree that this idea is too convenient for you."
Derek nodded with the same polite smile.
He knew that if Tristan's idea was put to life, then afterward he was going to be in the CYS committee's debt. But they weren't the worst people to owe favors to, so he wasn't worried.
Tristan nodded.
"I know. I will try talking to him. You have his personal contacts, I hope?"
"Yes, of course."
***
Tristan called in the evening, when he thought there was the highest chance to catch Angelo free. Despite that, the other man wasn't answering the phone for so long that Tristan was about to give up and leave a message instead.
"Hello. Angelo Brown is speaking."
"Brown? Ah, this is your real name—Omen is a stage pseudonym. Right, this is Tristan Gemello. Can we talk, or are you busy?"
"Mr. Gemello? I'm very happy to hear from you and will be pleased to talk. I assume you want to talk about something specific, so what is it?"
All that was said in the same bland monotone that was impossible to read.
Normally, Tristan would've preferred to talk face to face, so he could fully use his face-reading and voice-hypnotizing abilities, but with Angelo, he felt like it didn't matter at all.
'Damn, he talks like a robot! An AI! "Pleased to talk", my ass—where did he learn to speak like that? If this man doesn't want to do something, and has already refused money... Can I convince him at all?'
"I will cut to the chase. You were invited to an extra documentary shooting for the Californian Young Stars contest, Mr. Omen. Or should I call you Mr. Brown?"
"You can call me Angelo. And yes, I was invited, but I didn't want to gather publicity and the film shootings are exhausting, so I refused. Did you call to change my mind, Mr. Gemello?"
Tristan chewed his lip for a moment.
'Ah, fuck it. Just asking questions bluntly—this worked the last time, didn't it?'
"Yes. Angelo, what can I do to convince you?"