Matt was keenly looking around the room. Plain white-washed walls, floor space probably about 6m by 7m, three rows of tables with computers. Five volunteers plus this ginger-haired fellow who seemed to be running the show.
Weird ears, he thought. And he was wearing a turtleneck. What a name for a garment, he smirked to himself. Why not skivvy, like his Aussie mates called it? At least the animal connotations were absent. Matt had never trusted people in turtlenecks anyway, not since that episode back at his old school when he and his best friend Dave had been called to the headmaster's office for detention and caught sight of the old man playing with himself behind his desk. The headmaster had a penchant for turtleneck sweaters. Matt shivered at the memory, subconsciously recoiling from the ginger-haired bloke in front of him still rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light following Matt's earlier camera flash.
Something else caught Matt's keen tabloid eyes. Two things, in fact. The boxes stacked up against the far wall with the emblazoned bright pink logo, and the rather dour pale woman sat in front of one of the computers, totally immune to the goings-on around her, almost in a trance. They both rang a bell somewhere but before he could think further Mr Turtleneck was prodding his arm.
"Sorry, I must ask you to leave unless you are looking to join as a volunteer."
"I told you mate, Matt Deacon, Evening News, I'm 'ere to follow up..."
"Yes, yes, a story no doubt, but there is nothing here of interest to you and we are quite busy as you can see."
Matt cast a glance around the room of watchful eyes. Yes, he thought, busy staring for one.
"Listen 'ere," he retorted before Turtleneck Man could hustle him back out the door,"We could do a deal you know, come to a mutual agreement, know wha' I mean? You lot seem rushed off your feet what with all this compu'er stuff, eh? Guess you could do with a little 'elp? Ease the burden? Get you off out the door before sunrise, eh?"
Matt was well aware that his analogy of them being overworked was not quite appropriate, given that now even the dour woman was paying attention to their conversation. Not one of the people in the room had so much as tapped on a keyboard since he arrived, so goodness knew what they were supposed to be doing, but whatever it was, it certainly was not enough to keep them occupied or enthralled. His mind ticked over whilst he tried to buy himself more time.
"Those boxes?" he gestured towards the far wall where the pink logos now started to take on a degree of familiarity. "It's them rabbits, innit?"
Turtleneck man looked aghast and Matt could see his Adam's apple swallowing, almost painfully. Matt knew he had found a way in.
"Me and the boys," he gestured over his shoulder, "could move 'em for you if you like, you know, disappear without a trace." The turtleneck looked past him.
"Which 'boys' would that be then? The invisible army?" He seemed to regain some dignity with this statement.
"I just need to call 'em. Be 'ere in coupl'a minutes, no worries." Matt tried to sound enthusiastic. It did not come naturally. "Whaddya say, eh? I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine?"
"Scratch in return for what? What gave you the impression I need any help anyway? We are perfectly capable of disposing of these items ourselves, thank you."
Matt scrambled for another foothold - he needed this story, his last one had not made the cut again and his job was on the line. Tabloid journo, he thought, what a bloody life. All grovel, gossip and gobshite.
Think, he told himself. Think.
Weird ears, he thought. And he was wearing a turtleneck. What a name for a garment, he smirked to himself. Why not skivvy, like his Aussie mates called it? At least the animal connotations were absent. Matt had never trusted people in turtlenecks anyway, not since that episode back at his old school when he and his best friend Dave had been called to the headmaster's office for detention and caught sight of the old man playing with himself behind his desk. The headmaster had a penchant for turtleneck sweaters. Matt shivered at the memory, subconsciously recoiling from the ginger-haired bloke in front of him still rubbing his eyes as they adjusted to the light following Matt's earlier camera flash.
Something else caught Matt's keen tabloid eyes. Two things, in fact. The boxes stacked up against the far wall with the emblazoned bright pink logo, and the rather dour pale woman sat in front of one of the computers, totally immune to the goings-on around her, almost in a trance. They both rang a bell somewhere but before he could think further Mr Turtleneck was prodding his arm.
"Sorry, I must ask you to leave unless you are looking to join as a volunteer."
"I told you mate, Matt Deacon, Evening News, I'm 'ere to follow up..."
"Yes, yes, a story no doubt, but there is nothing here of interest to you and we are quite busy as you can see."
Matt cast a glance around the room of watchful eyes. Yes, he thought, busy staring for one.
"Listen 'ere," he retorted before Turtleneck Man could hustle him back out the door,"We could do a deal you know, come to a mutual agreement, know wha' I mean? You lot seem rushed off your feet what with all this compu'er stuff, eh? Guess you could do with a little 'elp? Ease the burden? Get you off out the door before sunrise, eh?"
Matt was well aware that his analogy of them being overworked was not quite appropriate, given that now even the dour woman was paying attention to their conversation. Not one of the people in the room had so much as tapped on a keyboard since he arrived, so goodness knew what they were supposed to be doing, but whatever it was, it certainly was not enough to keep them occupied or enthralled. His mind ticked over whilst he tried to buy himself more time.
"Those boxes?" he gestured towards the far wall where the pink logos now started to take on a degree of familiarity. "It's them rabbits, innit?"
Turtleneck man looked aghast and Matt could see his Adam's apple swallowing, almost painfully. Matt knew he had found a way in.
"Me and the boys," he gestured over his shoulder, "could move 'em for you if you like, you know, disappear without a trace." The turtleneck looked past him.
"Which 'boys' would that be then? The invisible army?" He seemed to regain some dignity with this statement.
"I just need to call 'em. Be 'ere in coupl'a minutes, no worries." Matt tried to sound enthusiastic. It did not come naturally. "Whaddya say, eh? I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine?"
"Scratch in return for what? What gave you the impression I need any help anyway? We are perfectly capable of disposing of these items ourselves, thank you."
Matt scrambled for another foothold - he needed this story, his last one had not made the cut again and his job was on the line. Tabloid journo, he thought, what a bloody life. All grovel, gossip and gobshite.
Think, he told himself. Think.