sixwordstories | (no subject)

Don't I know it.

'You can sleep when you're dead,' they say. But we all know that's horse shite.

I think this is the first time in six months I've slept past seven, and it feels pretty nice.

Of course the back pain freaking sucks, but hey.

'No rest for the wicked,' right?

[He chuckles to himself at that one; at least he finds himself funny.

Not that he's wicked or anything.]

So how'd you end up with that, then?

Not entirely sure. Might be overworking, or I could've turned the wrong way at the wrong time - my back just seized up.

So for the next week I'm on some mild painkillers and strict orders to do nothing but take care of it. No work, no gym sessions, nothing.

Oh, I hate when that happens. Of course, I haven't got the temperament to just lie down and take it like a good man unless I'm completely down for the count, but still.

Eh. I know they're right. Don't want to make it worse with millions of dollars on the line, but that doesn't mean I won't throw a tantrum anyway.

Millions of dollars, eh? Well that's somethin'. What's the occasion?

I'm a professional athlete.

Oh, you are, are you. Must be pretty famous, then.

I don't know about that.

Riskin' millions of dollars and a professional athlete? I'd hope so, otherwise what's the point? Only people with millions at risk who nobody knows're the business types who need that much green so's they don't blow their brains out after hours of bein' bored at work.

I don't honestly pay attention. I show up, do my job and go home. Unless I have to do a press conference or interviews or something.

Now, see, that does sound a bit famous.

Comes with the job. Occasionally you wind up in the sports pages.

What sport? Anythin' I might know?

I race IndyCar. Open-wheel, vaguely similar to Formula One but in America.

Not mud wrestlin' or roller derby? Well ain't that a shame.

[The smirk is all impish teasing, but he wouldn't be himself if he bothered to censor whatever came out of his mouth.]

[Shelby rolls her eyes, while flipping him off for that in her head.]

What?

[The smirk fades, giving way to an innocent look when she rolls her eyes at him.]

Oh you know what. I hear that stuff every day.

Well lookin' the way you do, it'd be a shame not to. It's a compliment, honestly. To each his own, but you'd make a mint at either of 'em.

Thank you, I think, but I'd rather be known for my accomplishments than my looks.

Why not both?

Because in my experience you can't have both.

Sure you can! I'm sure it happens to some people.

If there are, I haven't found them yet.

Just aren't lookin' in the right place, then.

But what do I know, right?

It's a thorny issue in sports, sometimes. I just prefer not to worry about it.

What is it you do?

[Cassidy supposes he should have seen this coming, but alas. He shrugs, averting his gaze and generally trying to avoid a proper answer in body language alone before he even answers.]

Oh, ah. Little of this, little of that. You know.

Mm, I'm going to guess that means I don't want to know?

Well you're always welcome to ask again, maybe I'll even be more honest. But chances are, lass on the straight and narrow like you are, you probably don't, no. Better off lettin' me be all dark and mysterious.

Duly noted. [With her sponsors she certainly didn't need any trouble.] It's nice to meet you, though.