As Promised...
Jul. 11th, 2003 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
3pipeproblemChicago fanfic. Pretty short, all dialogue. If you really want to make me happy, read and respond. Billy Flynn/Amos Hart, but nothing too graphic. It's dialogue.
“I don’t understand—“
“Not altogether unsurprising.”
“No, her! I don’t understand her! I mean…she loved me. She promised she loved me! She swore it was my child!”
“Listen, calm down…just siddown, okay? If you’re going to stay on your feet, you might as well leave. Time is money, and I need to meet with a client in ten minutes. An important client.”
“You lied to me, Mr. Flynn. Not just me. Everyone.”
“Okay, Andy, I’ll do you this one favor because in your own…barely noticeable way, you’re a good guy.
“You ever get ready to go to a party—dinner, maybe—with your wife? And she spends maybe half an hour getting ready for you, putting on makeup, doing her hair, that sort of thing. Then she descends the spiral staircase—“
“We don’t have no staircase, Mr. Flynn.”
“Figure of speech. Anyway, she asks you how she looks. Now, even if she looks awful, if her hair is done up so that it looks like birds are nesting in it, what are you gonna say? What do you tell her? Speak up, Andy. You’re mumbling.”
“Roxie used to tell me she had her mirror to tell her how she looked and I should keep my mouth shut.”
“Look, do you want a divorce? I can recommend a guy, because, no offense, this clearly isn’t going anywhere.”
“I don’t want your recommendation! You don’t know anything about divorce! Or marriage! Or love!”
“If you don’t want my recommendation, then why are you in my office, Amos?
“For Christ’s sake, get ahold of yourself. You’re shaking…Here. Have some scotch.
“Don’t tell me you’re that straight-laced. You’re a mechanic. You gotta have a union, poker night…what?”
“You called me Amos.”
“I…well, that is your name. Right?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Good. Glad we’ve established that. Now, please tell me what you want. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
“I thought it was ten?”
“Look around, Am—Andy. This is my office. Does it look like a courtroom?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why are you cross-examining me in it?
“Goddamn it, that’s expensive scotch! If I’d known you were just going to choke…okay, you can breathe now, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Please. I’m asking you nicely. Just tell me what it is you want, because whatever it is, I’m fairly certain I can’t give it to you.”
“Why are you so sure, Mr. Flynn?”
“Can we stop going around in circles? Frankly, talking with you makes me dizzy. I can’t even explain a lie to you…and, off the record, no one has more experience with those than I do.”
“Our marriage was a lie. Our child was a lie. Everything that made me happy turned out to be a lie.”
“Are you…blaming? Threatening?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then why…?”
“The truth.”
“About wh—“
“How was that?
“Billy? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Anyone wanna answer Amos?
“I don’t understand—“
“Not altogether unsurprising.”
“No, her! I don’t understand her! I mean…she loved me. She promised she loved me! She swore it was my child!”
“Listen, calm down…just siddown, okay? If you’re going to stay on your feet, you might as well leave. Time is money, and I need to meet with a client in ten minutes. An important client.”
“You lied to me, Mr. Flynn. Not just me. Everyone.”
“Okay, Andy, I’ll do you this one favor because in your own…barely noticeable way, you’re a good guy.
“You ever get ready to go to a party—dinner, maybe—with your wife? And she spends maybe half an hour getting ready for you, putting on makeup, doing her hair, that sort of thing. Then she descends the spiral staircase—“
“We don’t have no staircase, Mr. Flynn.”
“Figure of speech. Anyway, she asks you how she looks. Now, even if she looks awful, if her hair is done up so that it looks like birds are nesting in it, what are you gonna say? What do you tell her? Speak up, Andy. You’re mumbling.”
“Roxie used to tell me she had her mirror to tell her how she looked and I should keep my mouth shut.”
“Look, do you want a divorce? I can recommend a guy, because, no offense, this clearly isn’t going anywhere.”
“I don’t want your recommendation! You don’t know anything about divorce! Or marriage! Or love!”
“If you don’t want my recommendation, then why are you in my office, Amos?
“For Christ’s sake, get ahold of yourself. You’re shaking…Here. Have some scotch.
“Don’t tell me you’re that straight-laced. You’re a mechanic. You gotta have a union, poker night…what?”
“You called me Amos.”
“I…well, that is your name. Right?”
“Mmm hmm.”
“Good. Glad we’ve established that. Now, please tell me what you want. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”
“I thought it was ten?”
“Look around, Am—Andy. This is my office. Does it look like a courtroom?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why are you cross-examining me in it?
“Goddamn it, that’s expensive scotch! If I’d known you were just going to choke…okay, you can breathe now, right?”
“Uh huh.”
“Please. I’m asking you nicely. Just tell me what it is you want, because whatever it is, I’m fairly certain I can’t give it to you.”
“Why are you so sure, Mr. Flynn?”
“Can we stop going around in circles? Frankly, talking with you makes me dizzy. I can’t even explain a lie to you…and, off the record, no one has more experience with those than I do.”
“Our marriage was a lie. Our child was a lie. Everything that made me happy turned out to be a lie.”
“Are you…blaming? Threatening?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Then why…?”
“The truth.”
“About wh—“
“How was that?
“Billy? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
Anyone wanna answer Amos?
