Tony glared down at his Rolex just to be sure that what was happening was really happening: His good-for-nothing client was late to their meeting. It would be funny in a way, after all the little infuriating quips from the man over the past months about his lack of work ethic - ('On-time means a half hour early' his foot) - but it was pretty obvious what this was about. Tony Adison had to be on time for the man's little skips down memory lane, but when it came time to talk modernization, he dragged his feet.

The salesman looked up at his boss' office door, with his name engraved on a big Hollywood-style star. The trinket - in contrast to the dull plastic plate on Tony's door - perfectly summed up the state of things here. If he wanted to get this meeting over with he'd have to go drag that man back here himself.

With a groan he turned to start back down the hall, making his way to the set he knew he'd find Tenna on. He was familiar enough with the studio's chaotic schedules by now to know they were still filming their little gangster show. Which they only agreed to greenlight because of the opportunities it would provide to use some basic CGI. CGI that would not exist if they did not finish actually setting up all the damn computers he ordered.

A couple of said electronics sat to the sideline of the set as the crew continued to work with the old equipment, all of which the salesman weaved through gracelessly, recognizing they weren't actively filming. He even made sure to elbow his least favorite lead cameraman in the stomach on the way through -- payback for all his work to undermine him with appeals to some nebulous quality of the older cameras.

Once he made it to the forefront of the small crowd, he spotted Tenna front and center and scowled. Not that he would notice him anytime soon.

Before him Tenna was coaching one of his actors; one of the newer kids almost unrecognizable under a big goofy gangster get up. Meanwhile the old showman himself wore an old-fashioned shirt and suspenders, with his signature antenna bowler replaced with an antenna fedora. If he knew they'd looked this stupid he'd have told Tenna gangster movies were offensive to Italians these days and to pick another gimmick.

Completing the bit too was a crudely painted background of a dark alley. Again -- the kind of pathetic display Tony Adison was here to save them from if they would ever listen to him.

"Y'see, when you throw it to me, I'm gonna hold onto it like I've never held a gun in my life," Tenna quipped, clumsily holding a prop tommy gun under his arm as he pretended to stumble backwards on one foot. "But that gag's only gonna work if you hold this thing like a real pro! So watch me..."

Tenna quickly righted himself and tucked the prop far more confidently against his body. He stood tall and held the stock right beneath his shoulder, pointing the fake weapon forward and straight as an arrow. Turning back to his trainee without breaking stance he continued, "Main difference is whether it looks like you're actually holding your aim with the barrel. For me, it's gonna look like I'm just sprayin' bullets everywhere, but goofy as you are, you're still a trained killer!

"And then, most important of all," he looked back down at his prop. "You gotta sell that while acting like the gun's actually firin'. These things are powerful, but not uncontrollable -- and you're gonna have to practice balancing that. Somethin' like this..."

He took a moment to steady himself again, staring forward with a deadly concentration. Before then, sticking his tongue out like a dumbass. Tenna blew raspberries as he otherwise perfectly mimicked the knockback of a firing machine gun; the way the constant recoil would make him shift his center of gravity down and back on his heels, which he constantly braced and corrected for to keep the barrel centered on an invisible target.

A few crew members around him, including the actor-in-training, let out light chuckles at their boss' custom sound effects, but Tony remained silent. No longer out of scorn, but instead feeling oddly hypnotized by the showman's performance. He couldn't think of a time he'd seen Tenna - or any other comedian shmuck on his level - try to sell realism like that, and especially for something like machine gun fire of all things. Though that moment of unnerve was quickly swallowed up by annoyance as the sound of the raspberries stretched on obnoxiously.

Once Tenna grew tired of himself he clicked his tongue to mimic empty rounds, and then whistled the hiss of smoke from the hot barrel before pretending to blow it out coolly. A moment later he joined in the amusement of his audience with a small bow, "Glad to hear my sound effects really added to my performance! Though the ones added in by the editor's later'll really be the stars of the show!"

He spun around to hand the gun over to his trainee and glanced up at the flat background, causing Tony to pray to God he was thinking to himself about how his associate's computers would also be central to the show. Not that he would admit that out loud, of course. "But don't let my goofin' off distract you from that acting lesson, alright?" Tenna added as he glanced back to the kid who received it with a renewed sense of determination.

"Now, let's take five so everyone can really digest that little bit," he called to the rest of the gangster actors standing to the side. "You all can get your practice in and the crew'll--" he met Tony's eyes with a start as he was scanning over his people offstage. Putting on a sheepish grin he finished, "The crew'll be a bit more ready for more filming. I-I'll be back later."

As his employees dispersed, Tenna walked towards his associate, who in turn took a few impatient steps to meet him.

"Gee, we were supposed to meet about all those installations at noon, weren't we...!" the old showman whispered. "Sorry about that..."

"Yeah. Crazy it's finally you trippin' up, huh?"

"And after all those times I badgered you about it," he chuckled weakly.

The salesman met him with his own, far more hollow and far more sarcastic laugh. Fuck you...

He gave his watch another glance. "We can get about half that talk over now before you come back to this. I take it the filming's important."

"Yeah... City Nights has been a bit behind schedule cause of training..." he admitted, the stagnation of the studio's programming likely being to blame. But the showman lit back up, "We caught up a lot today though! And it was just such fun doing some coaching again I lost track of time."

"Heh, the kids don't know how to fake a good shootout?"

"Nah, and I can't blame 'em," he gave a lighthearted wave. "They're used to seeing this sorta stuff in the cartoons. The show's a bit of a comedy itself, but I was just explaining to Joe that those jokes only work against something more real."

"Which uh..." the salesman swallowed, more embarrassed he was still thinking about this than he was earnestly surprised anymore. He tried to keep his tone more teasing than curious. "You know about for some reason?"

"Oh, for sure!" Tenna cheered. "I've done a million little skits over the years, and learning to hold a fake gun's come up with a good chunk of them."

"Nah, I just mean you uh... you really seemed like you knew what you were talkin' about. And actin' about." Tony glanced to the side, "You got real experience with guns?" It felt dumb as hell to ask the second it slipped out of his mouth, but for some reason the thought that Tenna of all people did was stuck in his mind.

"Not really, all my know-how's mostly just for acting purposes. I've been coached by some experts, but besides that I've never really messed with firearms," he shrugged. Then glanced away for a second. "Outside knowing how to use the one I keep locked up at home. For safety of course."

OK, well that was already way more than a good chunk of people Tony knew. Most likely a Southern thing.

Before he could open his mouth to move things along however, the old showman continued with a low chuckle, "Heh, and that one time my dad tried to take me hunting." His voice suddenly boomed, "Boy, was that a disaster!"

The salesman almost instinctually threw his hands up and whinged at the telltale sign of another one of the man's stories, which Tenna mercifully understood.

"But that talk -- right, right! Here, I'll just explain it on the way! Cause it's really nothin' much...!

"'No! Daddy, daddy, I killed Thumper!!' -- I couldn't stop cryin'!" the old showman howled with laughter. "Oh it was TERRIBLE! I thought I'd never get over it! Like I'd be goin' to hell for shootin' that poor rabbit!"

Tony stood before the man with a horrendously forced smile, watching impatiently as Tenna laughed his ass off. His hand was sitting there, right... on... the doorknob... of his office! Teasing him... But despite this torment, the subject of their stalling was not making him any less antsy. That already unnerving image of Tenna paired with guns being painted by a very unflattering show of his temperament.

"The poor thing was so small -- the buckshot blew it to shreds! I still feel horrible thinkin' about it! I haven't gone hunting ever since," he sighed, using his palm to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

"I know there's nothing wrong with hunting - someone's gotta put some meat on the table - but I would start losin' it all over again if I had to shoot a poor little creature like that."

Well, isn't that a sweet thought, Tony cringed to himself. That's a very sane thing to say after everything else about you crying like a lunatic in the woods. "How old were you when you said this happened again?" he squeaked.

The old showman gave a blunt and oblivious smile, "Twenty-one. I'd just been discharged from the army for uhm..." he froze stiff. Just long enough for Tony's brow to furrow in concern.

"Well, I was out of the army on a general discharge. Which honestly, thank God -- I mean, it was for Korea, that war wasn't worth anything anyways. Just afterwards, my father was determined to toughen me up a bit so he took me on that little adventure," he finished on a tense sing-song note.

With before unseen swiftness, Tenna finally unlocked his office door and entered without another word. Tony's heart panged with apprehension for just a moment before he stepped in behind him.

With the help of a bunch of the security goons here and the little backstage clowns there, over the course of the evening they'd managed to replace all the old junk equipment with the new Queen computers. Though some IBMs would have been the first (and better) choice, Tony figured he'd go easy on the old man's wallet by abusing his employee discounts and connections.

The salesman wasn't exactly looking forward to tomorrow when they had to make sure everything actually... worked in the heat of the moment. Usually he spent nights like this - before big international firmware updates or sales campaigns - alone numbing himself out in preparation for the next day, but instead he found himself wanting to relish the small victory more.

Maybe it was the relatively low stakes or Tenna's generally forgiving nature that was softening him up, but he'd take the feeling over trying to fight off panic attacks laying in bed any night.

So, it was only natural when he took up Tenna on his offer to watch TV together again -- though Tony did have to bring the topic up first. When the old man's ranting wasn't getting in the way of them actually doing their damn jobs it was pretty fun to listen to, and he could see himself getting into the rhythm of a big success leading to a TV night. It was certainly less headache inducing then being dragged to parties back in New York, even if Tenna's ban on drinks in the studio was unbelievably lame.

It was the middle of October, so horror movie marathons were the wave right now. Primetime on a weekend, almost every major network was playing some scary shlock, which neither man seemed to care for.

Flipping through channels, Tony tuned in to a black and white film that didn't look like some complete garbage and let it play for a bit. Something about the actors drew him in... the mid-century doll and the awkward guy with bushy brows she was talking to looked somewhat familiar.

What wasn't familiar to Tony however was Tenna's silence. As always, the old showman sat politely dressed down on his side of the couch as Tony leaned all across his half like a jackass. Proudly so. But Tenna was hunched forward on his elbows today, seemingly exhausted by a days work for once. He'd seemed a bit space-y earlier but, not say, as messed up as he was back when they were watching the Jack Lalanne-guy. He didn't even remember to move his shaggy bangs out of his face, so his expression was just barely readable as bored.

Either way, Tony didn't come here to mope. If he wanted to have a pity party he would do it alone, he hung out with Tenna for the entertainment, and especially for commentary! "You know this one? It's from back in the stone age, right?"

"It's that Hitchcock picture," Tenna stated with an uncharacteristic lack of fanfare.

"Oh, it's Psycho!" His voice causing Tenna to flinch out of the corner of his eye.

The younger man tilted his head at the screen as his memories of it fell back into place. He didn't even remember if he'd seen the whole thing before, but there's a lot you can pick up through cultural osmosis.

The chick was on the run after taking a check from some fat cat client she was supposed to deposit at the bank before choosing to book it. A not unwise move by Tony's measure, knowing the raw cash she was holding had near mansion-buying power for the time, but the silly broad just had to stop somewhere along the way. Which landed her at this roadside motel where a lone killer worked.

But as he put together his synopsis, it struck the salesman that it was usually the other guy's job to do that. He also loved to make way more of a fuss about people recognizing shit than that limp acknowledgment before. "It's a classic, isn't it?" he teased.

"Yep..." Tenna sighed.

Tony now turned to his associate with a keen glare, and if the guy could see him out of the corner of his eyes below all that hair, he didn't react, just continuing to stare idly at the screen. But the salesman held his breath for a while longer, maybe the guy was working up his lecture. He was pretty slow with it earlier with the gun thing.

On the screen, the killer had gone up to his house to ask his 'mother' about bringing the girl over for dinner, but a shrill old voice crooned out the window, calling him a creep. Unknown to the girl (and the ignorant audience), the 'mother' was just a character the boy was playing. Some manifestation of his imagination made to taunt him.

The loon came downstairs like everything was fine and informed the girl his 'mother' wouldn't approve, so instead they set up shop in his little motel office. Simultaneously more and less intimate than taking her to the house.

Tony couldn't help but silently glance to the side. But any further thoughts were cut off by the screen fading to black and then a slew of jarring modern ads.

"Don't you like that..." he groaned. "Gotta love TV movies."

But more pressing than the ironic comment -- that was way too much film to roll by Tenna's old eyes without any commentary. He turned back towards the guy and quirked an eyebrow, "Don't got anything to say about this one? No riveting epic about meeting Alfred Hitchcock or somethin'?"

Tenna sighed again, a tense smile strained his lips. "Hmm, well we were both on TV at the same time... But no, we never really met. And I... wasn't..." his voice and expression lost steam. "... A fan of his work..."

"What of it? Don't like horror?" And just as the question left his lips it struck Tony as its own answer. He sat up on the couch and asked Tenna more directly, "You don't seem like a fan of pretentious horror stuff, are ya?"

"I don't mind horror. I don't mind horror stories that take themselves seriously..." he pulled himself up to face his associate as well. "I was a fan of the work Rod Serling did on his show, but Hitchcock's brand of horror just struck me as..."

The two's attention was caught by the screen fading from it's obnoxious slurry of colors back to the cool monochrome of the movie. The young woman walked into a parlor oppressed by the figures of taxidermied birds above her; a more rustic take on the clusterfuck of old junk in Tenna's own office if Tony was being honest. Gleeful and oblivious, her unsuspecting killer sets her meal with a patient smile.

As the woman sat and took the first bites of her final meal, the man found some odd amusement in it. Telling her she ate like a bird, a creature who's beauty in deathly stasis he found entrancing. His conversation was stilted; over-excited, over-eager, yet oddly mild.

"His works struck me as mean-spirited," Tenna continued abruptly, attracting Tony's attention again. The old man was hunched back over, his posture still as the stuffed birds. His eyes obscured but no doubt trained on the scene before him.

"It's not the blood or the sexuality, I-I just prefer how imaginative directors like Serling were in comparison. I feel like that's the right way to do serious horror -- If you're trying to really say something you shouldn't rely on tired old tropes..." His voice rose until the last words from his lips almost dripped with venom.

He huffed with indignance, finally motivated to sit up and gesture at the screen. "I mean, what even is this scene about? Trying to get people scared of... Makin' it out like the most dangerous people in the world are... are just... awkward, troubled kinda young men? Why? J-just cause they're a little... a little quick to anger?"

Quick to anger? A little? Tony almost gawked aloud. He looked back towards the screen, just in time to see the man in question asked by the young woman why he didn't just send his troublesome 'mother' away to a hospital. It was a question that would've stung anyone in his position, but the killer went ice cold at the thought. His sheepish, crooked grin hardened into a line. He leaned forward, a subtle threat.

From the corner of Tony's eye he watched his boss continue to sputter out the last of the tirade over the killer's quiet words, "This whole move is just - one of his most beloved works - and what is it but just... A terrible old campfire story about a--" The showman's voice and body tensed, his lip twitched. "I-I really hate the word altogether... It's cruel."

Without moving his head, Tony took a moment to stare to the side at his associates twitching, frustrated face. Then a moment to look at the ceiling. Then the army of old TVs which watched them from the shadows of the room, not unlike the birds in the movie parlor. He made a tense face at no one in particular.

Whatever deranged sympathy Tenna was trying to find with the killer was none of his business. What was, to the growing tightness in his chest, was to not say the wrong thing and end up dead in a shower tonight.

"Uhh..." he began dumbly to the floor, desperately needing to impress he was on Tenna's side. "Yeah, I see what you're getting at with the crazy psycho killer being a bit old--"

"And offensive!" Tenna spat.

"Certainly," he coughed. "From uh... my experience psychotic people really aren't that dangerous anyways. Mostly just kinda... sad to look at."

At that Tenna snapped out of his aggravated stupor and turned gently towards his associate. "What do you mean 'from your experience'?"

The salesman flinched and grimaced. "Eh! Y'know, in New York you got a lot of those kind of people all over the streets and stuff, and--" He cut himself off as his heart skipped. That was not gonna get him on Tenna's side. More sympathetic!

"And uh..." he swallowed. "I... I knew someone who sort of... had a psychotic break once. Uhm... many times... In my family even... It was uh... my mother. She went a bit crazy in the head raising us, y'see..." he gave a breathy chuckle trying to lighten things up. He had no clue why he let that spill out of him.

"Oh, that's terrible..." Tenna gasped. "Is she OK?"

"Yeah, yeah! Honestly..." Despite the ache in his chest and a life-long history of keeping shit to himself, he only found himself relaxing as he considered the story.

Usually his mother - the mother of Antonio Adison - was the kind of family history what mustn't be named, even around other relatives let alone randos, but it actually felt worth talking about now. Maybe knowing his boss was all PC about crazy people helped. The idiot was just making him soft again.

"Honestly, she's probably doin' better than the rest of us. We tried to bring her home after her first episode, but she just went nuts again and went back to the hospital where she's been ever since...

"Heh... I think she really preferred it there. I mean, three meals a day, people to talk to - even if they were crazy, but hey, who's she to judge. People waitin' on her instead of waitin' on a family of six boys -- my father included!" He cracked a lop-sided smirk. "Probably the best for her, I always figured."

Tenna sighed with a shaking hand over his chest. "Well, I'm very happy to hear that for her. But..." he tilted his head. "What about the rest of your family?"

Antonio glanced up at the man curiously for a moment, for some reason he wasn't expecting him to be serious about his concern for this sort of thing. "They're..." They were fine technically, but given how much everyone hated each other - and him most specifically - that was a generous statement. "... Peachy." If there was anything about his home life he still wanted private it was that.

"My dad found a different chick just long enough to raise us all before they broke up too. She's also doin' fine."

"But..." the older man continued to whine. "You and your brothers?"

He shrugged. "Like I was sayin', it was freaky at first having a psycho mom when she started acting weird, but she never tried to hurt us or anything. She kinda just stood there and stared into space a lot. Or talked to herself about--"

"I mean the separation, Antonio!" Tenna suddenly snapped. Louder than he'd intended give the way he flinched back from the sound of his own voice. "S-Sorry, but I meant how did the separation effect your brothers... It's terrible for a child to go through that..."

"Oh, uhm... I'm not that broken up about it to be honest. None of us were. Not to sound cruel, we were just pretty young when it happened, and..." he leaned back and took a moment to really mine some sentimentality out of his soul. "I... think between knowing that my mother was okay somewhere else, and I could see her if I really wanted to, and that I still had a step-mom at home... It... wasn't as rough as you'd think it'd be..."

He looked back at Tenna with a smile, expecting to see him also sharing a dumb, corny grin over his happily-ever-after, but instead he stared back at him pale as a sheet. Looking up into his face, Antonio could see his brows furrowed deeply beneath his bangs.

"I..." Tenna looked away. "Well... I can't tell you how to feel, but I think it's terrible your family was broken up like that. It's important parents keep together for their kids."

The younger man's expression instantly soured, "What? Even if it would make them and their kids miserable?"

"No! Of course not, Antonio, I mean--" he huffed and threw his hands up in a desperate shrug. "It is crucial that kids see a strong bond growing up! They need to know that there are people, relationships, they can have that will stay with them forever. So they know its safe to form their own!"

"But sometimes people aren't like that!" he sneered incredulously. As usual, any fear he felt was quickly moved aside for a wave of anger. "Sometimes their parents aren't like that, and it's also important for them to know that sometimes shit breaks down and that's fine too! I don't want a kid thinkin' he should stay with someone he hates just cause others say he should!"

"Oh...!" Tenna grumbled, his hands clawing at the air. "J-Just agree to disagree with me on this one!"

"Fine. I'll just say we're both invested in whatever stops kids from growin' up and turning into the psychos in the movies, huh?"

"The showman's hands balled into fists as he looked away, his voice becoming a low growl, "Sure..."

Antonio similarly swung his head away, taking a good minute to bask in his righteous anger. The insistence of people like Tenna that everything always had to be a sunshine and rainbows fantasy between people always ticked him off. Not even about his own family situation, it was just infuriating to deal with about anything, and was probably related to the showman's obsessiveness. Tony's lip curled as he eyed the mess of the room. All the blank, useless screen staring right back at him.

But a moment later his ears were caught by a familiar scream. The infamous shower scene was on.

The killer loomed over the helpless woman from earlier, nude in the shower, and began stabbing her mercilessly. The camera abruptly cut between her flailing and the knife, as strings screeched and the drain began to run red (or, dark-grey) with her blood. Eventually she stumbled back, tearing the curtain as she fell over limp and dead.

There was one long shot of the woman's blank face laying against the shower floor, her eyes staring forward and her mouth agape, robbed of life.

The figure of an old woman was shown running off, but really it was the boy from earlier in disguise. Half to the outside world and half to himself -- something about his mother losing one man and marrying another driving him crazy.

These were the classics, huh? The stories people like Tenna would've been raised on -- campfire tales about what would happen to kids from broken homes... Maybe even that he was told about himself if his flustered defense earlier was any indication. Maybe it was hard to blame a sentimental shmuck like him for getting heated over this sort of family stuff in light of that.

He sighed through gritted teeth, not really aware of how tense he sill was. And looking over at Tenna, the man still sat stiff as a board, and, amazingly, turned away from a screen for once in his life he must have been so angry.

"How about I concede this, old man," Tony began, rolling his eyes. "Unless two parents are on the verge of ripping each other's throats out-" which his own parents honestly were, but that wasn't Tenna's business - "they should make an effort to focus on the kid and save face, huh?"

"That's about how I'd put it..." Tenna replied coldly, still refusing to look at him or the movie.

He breathed an unsteady sigh as he tried to take his attention off of Tenna and his weird tone. He started fidgeting as he thought of something to pick the conversation back up on a friendlier note. Ideally it would be something unrelated to all this, but... now too many questions about Tenna were creeping into his brain. And he couldn't tell if the tightness in his chest was out of growing curiosity or apprehension.

What the hell, Tony decided. I already spilled plenty of my guts, only fair he gives a little in return. "Your family kinda uh..."

"No. My parents were nothing like yours." His words were cold and even. Patronizingly so.

It was the kind of line his weak heart would have taken as a threat, if his system was not so immediately flushed with pride. "Oh? So it was just a perfect, happy family for you -- how fucking sweet?" he hissed. "Cause y'know, it takes a real loving father to drag his grown son into the woods and traumatize him like you were talking about earlier."

Tenna flinched before throwing a half-crazed scowl over his shoulder, "Don't--"

But he was interrupted by the film -- the screen had panned up to the dark house towering over the motel, where the killer cried into the night, "Blood! Oh, mother, blood!" vainly acting out his odd repressive delusion of innocence.

The scene had instantly captured the showman's eyes, but he shook his head and met the man with a more even glare. "I told you he was just trying toughen me up, it's what any good father does!"

Tony grimaced back, "You'd think the army would've done a better job of that before they kicked you out, huh?"

Tenna's eyes went wide beneath his bangs. His expression melted into cold rage, his trembling lips teasing a snarl. Or maybe a sadistic grin.

A chill ran up Antonio's spine, causing him to slowly shrink back.

The older man stood up off the coach, looking down at him with clenched fists and a heaving chest. The light of the silver screen no longer reached his face, shrouding it and whatever crazed look the man may've had in shadow.

And for one, terrible moment, the salesman was sure was about to be made the star of his own horror scene.

But instead, Tenna slowly dragged himself towards the TV set. He walked up to it with light steps, leaned down, and clicked it off by its control panel. The silver light splashed across his face being the killer looking on in denial at his own crime. The candid actor meeting the candid actor.

Once off, the room went dim, only illuminated by the low lights of the vanity behind the couch.

"This night isn't bringing out the best in us..." Tenna whispered into the screen. Low and monotone, almost threatening. "We should both get some rest."

Tony snorted, his racing heart preventing anything more eloquent from leaving his lips before he found his words. "You gonna answer my question?" His voice shook.

"I will not. And I'd honestly appreciate it if you never ask me about that time in my life again."

"F-Figures." The younger man crawled off of the couch as if Tenna would pounce on anything that got too close. From behind the couch he fixed his shirt and tie, the gesture being an excuse to put his hand to his chest to quiet it. Steadying himself, he put his arms behind his back and gave a shit-eating grin. "How about we agree to never judge each other's personal lives again, huh, old pal?"

"Fine by me," Tenna hummed with an eerie melodiousness. "See you tomorrow."

It didn't strike Tony until he'd walked out the door and halfway down the hallway, but the quiet anger in those final words were the most terrifying thing he'd ever heard out of the showman.