The Muffin Man

5:30am is much too early to be called down to the studio for an emergency. Looking somewhat dishevelled and not as put together as she usually does, Kristen Reynolds makes the trek down stairs dressed in yoga pants and a tight fitting tank top. It's not the type of thing for the office, but it's definitely better than what she was wearing when the front desk called.

"Alright what the he — ell is all of this?!" Kristen was ready to give someone the verbal lashing of a lifetime for disrupting her beauty sleep. Instead, when she steps through the door to her small office, she's greeted with the sight of boxes, upon boxes, upon boxes. Each and every one stamped with the name of a bakery, Oh So Sweet.

"Uhm, they came with a card ma'am…" Her weasely assistant is among the piles, somewhere, how the heck they fit all these boxes in here she will never know. "It's uhm.. it says someone named Abby is sorry for calling your show little?"

Whoever called the host at 5:30 AM for this random emergency must have been off their rocker. Even so, between the stacks and stacks of boxes, Bradley Russo has been sequestered into a corner. The good news at least someone had the courtesy to bring breakfast. Around a double chocolate chip muffin he greets his producer, "Iuhm tink yeee shoulds trys — " he manages to swallow his mouthful before changing thoughts while peeking over one of the stacks, nothing under his eyes can see the door, but those green-blue eyes stare out at her thoughtfully.

"Kristen." It's one word, serious, weighty, and gruff after his bite has been swallowed. "Kristen." He clears his throat again, managing to keep his tone even. Listeners, like Kristen's assistant, might think he's about to ream her out for some peon waking him up in the night, the kind of weigh reserved for one of the pair's larger fights. It's the same tone he uses when trying to elicit information from a source. "Do you know the muffin man?" it's a hard hitting news question spoken as such.

"The muffin man?" Is Kristen's immediate answer, but she's not performing a Shrek skit with the host. A rather annoyed expression is painted over her elfin features as her large brown eyes pour over the mess in her office, her beautiful clean office. She's seething, Dirk is cowering, Brad is still eating, and there are boxes piled from the floor to the ceiling. "Yes I know the muffin man! You just heard Dirk tell me who the muffin man is. Ugh…"

Strutting over to her desk, the producer shoves a few of the stacks aside to make room for a small Rolodex. Flipping through it quickly she gives Brad a pointed glare and points a solitary slender finger at his face. "Do not eat any more of these. None!! You'll get as fat as the Pillsbury Doughboy." Then her index and middle finger are sprinting through the index cards faster than fingers can speedwalk through the yellow pages. "Dirk! Take a letter."

"Oh c'mon! I ate one muffin." He manages to find his way around the boxes towards her. While Kristen may be pissed, Brad takes it all in stride. "Besides if someone wakes me up this early — " his eyebrows arch involuntarily at her clothes, earning a quirk of a smile " — were you doing yoga?" After a short pause his smile quirks further, "… was it hot yoga?" There's a definite air of mischief in the question accompanied by an all-too-familiar twinkle in his eye. After years of friendship some things he can't let pass without due teasing. Even if Kristen is angry, some items on the conversational agenda are more important than others. Her yoga? Too important to pass up.

"Besides, I work out. I don't get fat. I'm even sparring again. Yeah, that's right sparring… you're the one who let her work interrupt her workout.."

Caught off guard, Kristen just stares at Brad for a minute or two before narrowing her eyes at him and giving a very slight shake to her head. "See this face? This is the face of a woman that wouldn't mind a spar right now." She'd probably spar him right in the face if her expression is any indication of the mood she's in.

Ripping the bakery's card out of her Rolodex, she flips it at her assistant and then points toward his desk. "Brad and I need to be alone, just write something I would send and I'll sign it." When Dirk makes his hasty exit back to his own desk, Kristen leans back against hers and folds her arms. "Really Brad? Hot yoga? That's the best you could come up with?"

There's a small shrug as Brad quirks another smile, "Oh come on, K. It's so damned early. If it was like… showtime I'd be more on my game. You know how it is. Brain not awake. Give it a few hours and I'll come up with something better." With a cluck of his tongue he shakes his head, "Course, I could've said something about how being bendy helps your other extracurricular activities."

Now he just winks and shakes his head. "So someone sent muffins. What's the big deal? I don't think it warranted calling you in at 5 am. And I really don't think it warranted calling me in at 5 am." His eyebrows peak, "Clearly… the staff need to go through training again about what does and doesn't constitute an actual emergency. I mean… if there was breaking news I'd want to be woken up. For muffins… ehn… I mean baked goods. Other muffins…" he just shrugs and shoots her a dimpled smile. It's all in jest. While he may have been a bit of a ladies man before he met Karolina, he hasn't picked up his old habits since.

"So… What you're saying is… You came down here because someone was bluffin' with muffins?" Kristen actually cracks a grin at that, and lets out a small huff of a laugh. Her arms are still crossed in a gesture of either chill or hostility, the aggressive little woman could swing either way at 5:30am.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall, has her sighing and then her baby browns drifting over to Brad's face. "Almost six…. How's that truck of yours working? It has a canopy or something, right?" There's a sparkle in Kristen's eye and as she pushes herself off the desk, her hands wind to the back of her head to tie her hair into a messy bun and secure it with a couple of pens. "I'm assuming you drove here because you weren't staying in my room last night." Not that he does any night, but the offer hasn't been retracted in years, just put on the shelf. "Lets get this stuff loaded up and drive it to that orphanage out on Staten… Kids like muffins, right?"

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