Fic: The Interview
Jun. 4th, 2011 08:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starsandseaTitle: The Interview
Rating: PG
Characters: Cyril, Beryl, Clark
Word Count: 1720
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Continuity: After Knight and Squire 4, before Knight and Squire 5&6, though that might play around with some other timelines... It might be better to view as an AU!
Author's Note: For the absolutely wonderful and completely awesome![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mithen! *hearts* I hope your birthday is as awesome as you are! *glomps* And to everyone who has given me birthday wishes, thank you! I hope to have time to respond to them later! *hearts you all*
“Why are we doing this again?” Cyril asked, nervously adjusting his helmet.
Beryl just sighed, not looking up from the magazine she was reading. “I told you, everyone over there has gone crazy for anything even remotely connected to the Royal Wedding. We’re invited. And you’re a Knight. It can’t get any better.”
Cyril sighed himself. “Well, yes, but-”
“And anything that stops them calling us the ‘British Batman and Robin’ and by our own names is good.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“The Daily Planet is one of the most read newspapers in the world, even with print declining.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And Clark Kent is one of the best reporters in the world.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And, if we do join this ‘Batman Inc’ thing, this could be the start of new things.”
“Well, yes, but...” Cyril paused, waiting to see if he was going to be interrupted again. “I’m not good at these things. And that’s not even mentioning the language barrier...”
Beryl finally looked up. “It’s not live on the telly, Cyril. If you want to change something, you can.”
“But you know how the media are...” He adjusted his gauntlets.
Beryl sighed again and put the magazine down. “It’ll be fine. Stop worrying. I’ll do most of the talking, right?”
There was a somewhat hesitant knock on the door to the hotel suite. Beryl smiled brightly at him. Cyril gulped. Beryl opened to the door, and... a somewhat bedraggled Clark Kent stumbled through the door.
“Sorry, sorry!” He tripped over one of his untied shoe laces. Beryl caught him and steadied him while he adjusted his hold on his bag and his wonky glasses. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I’m late, I’m staying out at Heathrow and I got so confused by the Underground trains and the zones and lines...”
Cyril nodded, staring in morbid fascination. This wasn’t how he had imagined Clark Kent to look. Beryl was steering him to the sofa.
“Sorry you had so much trouble, Mr. Kent. Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, um...” Kent looked for somewhere to put his bag. Feeling useless, Cyril took it from him and placed it on the table. “Oh, thank you. Um...” he bent to retie his shoelaces.
Cyril exchanged a glance with Beryl, who glared at him in response, her lips thinning. and he held up his hands in surrender.
“Would it be possible to have some coffee? I’ve got jet lag and...” he finished his sentence in a mumble.
“Of course, Mr. Kent.” Beryl fixed him with another look, before she went into the little kitchen.
“Oh, uh, please, call me Clark.” The reporter gave a surprisingly friendly smile; almost despite himself, Cyril found himself smiling back, even as alarm bells rang.
A friendly reporter? That could only mean one thing. He had learned that when an especially idiotic one had gone undercover and arranged to be a ‘victim’ just so they could write an expose on him and Beryl. He really hated the press. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent. I’m the Knight, and you’ve already met my Squire.”
He reached out his hand and Kent quickly straightend and shook it. His hand was surprisingly limp. “It’s an honor to meet you both, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you from a very trusted source.” Behind his glasses, his eyes seemed to twinkle for a moment.
Cyril smiled politely, glancing across to the kitchenette, to see how Beryl was doing. She seemed to be dueling with the coffee machine. Kent opened his bag, then, after rummaging around for a few moments, took out an actual notebook and pen. He must have seen his surprise - or was just used to explaining.
“I like to do things the old fashioned way.”
Cyril smiled again, feeling himself relaxing a little. Kent wasn’t at all what he had been expecting. And he had a pleasant Mid-Western twang that wasn’t so blatant as Hank’s, but nonetheless, relaxed him further. No wonder Beryl had chosen him. She was a clever girl. “How, erm, are you finding London?”
“Oh, it’s very nice. Very nice. Though everything is so expensive.” Kent took off the lid of his pen, dropped it, picked it up, then dropped his notebook. Cyril once more found himself staring in morbid fascination. Beryl made a triumphant noise, and they both glanced over at her. Kent pushed his glasses up his noise. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you go to any trouble...”
Beryl turned one of her sweet smiles on him, and Cyril rolled his eyes, glad his helmet hid it. “It wasn’t.”
Kent nodded, and Beryl picked up the mug and carried it into the main room, then placed it on the low table, before sitting next to him. Cyril felt vast relief; Beryl would do the talking now. What would he do without her?
“Thank you.” Kent smiled, looked genuinely pleased.
“You’re welcome.”
Kent took a sip of the coffee, then sighed, and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Shall we get started?”
Cyril exchanged a glance with Beryl, then nodded. “Sure.”
*****
(Excerpt from the interview by Clark Kent of Knight and Squire, British Superheroes.)
CK: What’s it like, being a superhero in Britain?
Squire: What’s it like being a superhero in America? (laughs) I think we get tolerated more; there’s a long tradition of eccentricity here, after all.
CK: You’ve done some work in America, however, especially Gotham. Did it feel different there?
S: Gotham feels different to anywhere else (Knight nods in agreement) but y’know, when you’re there fighting against something, you don’t really stop and notice, y’know?
CK: I understand. You’re the most famous, the most high profile, of the British superheroes. But you’re not the first Knight and Squire, are you?
Knight: My father was the first Knight. I was his Squire. When he died, I took over from him, though I, erm, lost my way until my own Squire found me.
CK: Do you mind talking about that time of your life?
K: (sighs) It’s well documented here. I made a lot of stupid decisions that I now regret deeply. I’m not the same person now as I was then.
S: You’re a better person.
K: (smiles) Thanks to you. But, erm, yeah. Squire found me, and got me back on my feet.
CK: You don’t have any superpowers, do you?
K: Erm, no, I don’t.
S: I do. I’ve got communicative powers.
CK: What do they do?
S: Well, it basically means that I know how to speak to people, tell them what they need - rather than want - to hear.
CK: Must be useful. I wouldn’t mind those powers myself.
K & S: (laugh)
CK: Everyone calls you the ‘British Batman and Robin’. How does that make you feel?
S: We get compared to two of the most famous heroes ever? Who wouldn’t be flattered?
CK: It doesn't get annoying, then?
K: Well, erm, no one really calls us that here, unless they’re, erm, being ironic.
CK: You’ve worked with them both - Batman and Robin - before, haven’t you? When you were in Gotham, as we mentioned.
K: We’ve, erm, worked together a few times. The, erm ‘Club of Heroes’.
CK: Do you think that Batman is trying to recreate - or replace - that with his new ‘Batman Incorporated’?
S: (laughs) I’m not even going to try and figure out how Batman’s mind works.
CK: There are a lot of rumours, however, that you’re going to become part of it...
S: Well, he wants to have people in each country, yeah? We’ve worked with him before, it’d make sense. But there are plenty of other good heroes here, beside us. (Knight nods in agreement)
CK: You’ve been invited to the Royal Wedding, in only two days time. People are calling it ‘the most sought after invitation in the world’. How did you get invited?
K: We’ve, erm, met Prince William and Miss Middleton a few times.
S: (nods) Yeah, they’re really nice. We’re really there to represent the superhero community, like why all the different heads of faith are going.
CK: We don’t really have anything like this in America, and we’re all fascinated by it. How long have you known that you’re going?
K: We, erm, got the invitations a few months ago.
CK: Are you excited?
S: More about the future, I think, for me, at least. It’s going to be a really good day, but I think they’re going to do the monarchy a lot of good; rejuvenate it. (Knight nods)
CK: Are you going to the receptions after the service?
K: We’re going to, erm, the first one, hosted by the Queen.
S: We’ve been invited to the one in the evening, too, but we’re not sure if we’ll be able to attend, or not. We hope so.
CK: Well, thank you both for taking the time to speak with me, and I hope you enjoy the wedding day.
K: Thank you. I hope you do too, Mr. Kent.
S: It was really nice talking to you.
*****
Beryl closed the door behind the reporter and Cyril sighed softly, in relief that it was all over. Beryl gave him an amused glance as he took off the helmet. “That... wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Beryl laughed as she picked up the empty mug and tea cups. “I shall refrain from saying ‘I told you so’,” she said, in tones deliberately designed to annoy.
Cyril rolled his eyes and sighed again, but he knew he was smiling. Clark Kent had surprised him, was not like any other reporter he had had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting.
“Have you decided who you’re going as, yet? Cyril Sheldrake, Earl of Wordenshire, cousin of the Queen, or merely the Knight?”
Cyril rolled his eyes again. Beryl was in high spirits - never a good sign. And he wasn't a cousin of the Queen, no more, at least, than the vast majority of all the other Dukes and Duchesses, Earls and Lords and Ladies were. But that didn’t stop Beryl, of course. “Knight. Unless you want to go with that Dennis lad?”
“Shut up!’ Beryl’s face flushed as red as her hair, and Cyril grinned.
Rating: PG
Characters: Cyril, Beryl, Clark
Word Count: 1720
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Continuity: After Knight and Squire 4, before Knight and Squire 5&6, though that might play around with some other timelines... It might be better to view as an AU!
Author's Note: For the absolutely wonderful and completely awesome
mithen! *hearts* I hope your birthday is as awesome as you are! *glomps* And to everyone who has given me birthday wishes, thank you! I hope to have time to respond to them later! *hearts you all*“Why are we doing this again?” Cyril asked, nervously adjusting his helmet.
Beryl just sighed, not looking up from the magazine she was reading. “I told you, everyone over there has gone crazy for anything even remotely connected to the Royal Wedding. We’re invited. And you’re a Knight. It can’t get any better.”
Cyril sighed himself. “Well, yes, but-”
“And anything that stops them calling us the ‘British Batman and Robin’ and by our own names is good.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“The Daily Planet is one of the most read newspapers in the world, even with print declining.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And Clark Kent is one of the best reporters in the world.”
“Well, yes, but-”
“And, if we do join this ‘Batman Inc’ thing, this could be the start of new things.”
“Well, yes, but...” Cyril paused, waiting to see if he was going to be interrupted again. “I’m not good at these things. And that’s not even mentioning the language barrier...”
Beryl finally looked up. “It’s not live on the telly, Cyril. If you want to change something, you can.”
“But you know how the media are...” He adjusted his gauntlets.
Beryl sighed again and put the magazine down. “It’ll be fine. Stop worrying. I’ll do most of the talking, right?”
There was a somewhat hesitant knock on the door to the hotel suite. Beryl smiled brightly at him. Cyril gulped. Beryl opened to the door, and... a somewhat bedraggled Clark Kent stumbled through the door.
“Sorry, sorry!” He tripped over one of his untied shoe laces. Beryl caught him and steadied him while he adjusted his hold on his bag and his wonky glasses. “Thank you. I’m so sorry I’m late, I’m staying out at Heathrow and I got so confused by the Underground trains and the zones and lines...”
Cyril nodded, staring in morbid fascination. This wasn’t how he had imagined Clark Kent to look. Beryl was steering him to the sofa.
“Sorry you had so much trouble, Mr. Kent. Would you like some tea?”
“Oh, um...” Kent looked for somewhere to put his bag. Feeling useless, Cyril took it from him and placed it on the table. “Oh, thank you. Um...” he bent to retie his shoelaces.
Cyril exchanged a glance with Beryl, who glared at him in response, her lips thinning. and he held up his hands in surrender.
“Would it be possible to have some coffee? I’ve got jet lag and...” he finished his sentence in a mumble.
“Of course, Mr. Kent.” Beryl fixed him with another look, before she went into the little kitchen.
“Oh, uh, please, call me Clark.” The reporter gave a surprisingly friendly smile; almost despite himself, Cyril found himself smiling back, even as alarm bells rang.
A friendly reporter? That could only mean one thing. He had learned that when an especially idiotic one had gone undercover and arranged to be a ‘victim’ just so they could write an expose on him and Beryl. He really hated the press. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent. I’m the Knight, and you’ve already met my Squire.”
He reached out his hand and Kent quickly straightend and shook it. His hand was surprisingly limp. “It’s an honor to meet you both, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you from a very trusted source.” Behind his glasses, his eyes seemed to twinkle for a moment.
Cyril smiled politely, glancing across to the kitchenette, to see how Beryl was doing. She seemed to be dueling with the coffee machine. Kent opened his bag, then, after rummaging around for a few moments, took out an actual notebook and pen. He must have seen his surprise - or was just used to explaining.
“I like to do things the old fashioned way.”
Cyril smiled again, feeling himself relaxing a little. Kent wasn’t at all what he had been expecting. And he had a pleasant Mid-Western twang that wasn’t so blatant as Hank’s, but nonetheless, relaxed him further. No wonder Beryl had chosen him. She was a clever girl. “How, erm, are you finding London?”
“Oh, it’s very nice. Very nice. Though everything is so expensive.” Kent took off the lid of his pen, dropped it, picked it up, then dropped his notebook. Cyril once more found himself staring in morbid fascination. Beryl made a triumphant noise, and they both glanced over at her. Kent pushed his glasses up his noise. “Oh, I didn’t mean to make you go to any trouble...”
Beryl turned one of her sweet smiles on him, and Cyril rolled his eyes, glad his helmet hid it. “It wasn’t.”
Kent nodded, and Beryl picked up the mug and carried it into the main room, then placed it on the low table, before sitting next to him. Cyril felt vast relief; Beryl would do the talking now. What would he do without her?
“Thank you.” Kent smiled, looked genuinely pleased.
“You’re welcome.”
Kent took a sip of the coffee, then sighed, and pushed his glasses up his nose again. “Shall we get started?”
Cyril exchanged a glance with Beryl, then nodded. “Sure.”
*****
(Excerpt from the interview by Clark Kent of Knight and Squire, British Superheroes.)
CK: What’s it like, being a superhero in Britain?
Squire: What’s it like being a superhero in America? (laughs) I think we get tolerated more; there’s a long tradition of eccentricity here, after all.
CK: You’ve done some work in America, however, especially Gotham. Did it feel different there?
S: Gotham feels different to anywhere else (Knight nods in agreement) but y’know, when you’re there fighting against something, you don’t really stop and notice, y’know?
CK: I understand. You’re the most famous, the most high profile, of the British superheroes. But you’re not the first Knight and Squire, are you?
Knight: My father was the first Knight. I was his Squire. When he died, I took over from him, though I, erm, lost my way until my own Squire found me.
CK: Do you mind talking about that time of your life?
K: (sighs) It’s well documented here. I made a lot of stupid decisions that I now regret deeply. I’m not the same person now as I was then.
S: You’re a better person.
K: (smiles) Thanks to you. But, erm, yeah. Squire found me, and got me back on my feet.
CK: You don’t have any superpowers, do you?
K: Erm, no, I don’t.
S: I do. I’ve got communicative powers.
CK: What do they do?
S: Well, it basically means that I know how to speak to people, tell them what they need - rather than want - to hear.
CK: Must be useful. I wouldn’t mind those powers myself.
K & S: (laugh)
CK: Everyone calls you the ‘British Batman and Robin’. How does that make you feel?
S: We get compared to two of the most famous heroes ever? Who wouldn’t be flattered?
CK: It doesn't get annoying, then?
K: Well, erm, no one really calls us that here, unless they’re, erm, being ironic.
CK: You’ve worked with them both - Batman and Robin - before, haven’t you? When you were in Gotham, as we mentioned.
K: We’ve, erm, worked together a few times. The, erm ‘Club of Heroes’.
CK: Do you think that Batman is trying to recreate - or replace - that with his new ‘Batman Incorporated’?
S: (laughs) I’m not even going to try and figure out how Batman’s mind works.
CK: There are a lot of rumours, however, that you’re going to become part of it...
S: Well, he wants to have people in each country, yeah? We’ve worked with him before, it’d make sense. But there are plenty of other good heroes here, beside us. (Knight nods in agreement)
CK: You’ve been invited to the Royal Wedding, in only two days time. People are calling it ‘the most sought after invitation in the world’. How did you get invited?
K: We’ve, erm, met Prince William and Miss Middleton a few times.
S: (nods) Yeah, they’re really nice. We’re really there to represent the superhero community, like why all the different heads of faith are going.
CK: We don’t really have anything like this in America, and we’re all fascinated by it. How long have you known that you’re going?
K: We, erm, got the invitations a few months ago.
CK: Are you excited?
S: More about the future, I think, for me, at least. It’s going to be a really good day, but I think they’re going to do the monarchy a lot of good; rejuvenate it. (Knight nods)
CK: Are you going to the receptions after the service?
K: We’re going to, erm, the first one, hosted by the Queen.
S: We’ve been invited to the one in the evening, too, but we’re not sure if we’ll be able to attend, or not. We hope so.
CK: Well, thank you both for taking the time to speak with me, and I hope you enjoy the wedding day.
K: Thank you. I hope you do too, Mr. Kent.
S: It was really nice talking to you.
*****
Beryl closed the door behind the reporter and Cyril sighed softly, in relief that it was all over. Beryl gave him an amused glance as he took off the helmet. “That... wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Beryl laughed as she picked up the empty mug and tea cups. “I shall refrain from saying ‘I told you so’,” she said, in tones deliberately designed to annoy.
Cyril rolled his eyes and sighed again, but he knew he was smiling. Clark Kent had surprised him, was not like any other reporter he had had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting.
“Have you decided who you’re going as, yet? Cyril Sheldrake, Earl of Wordenshire, cousin of the Queen, or merely the Knight?”
Cyril rolled his eyes again. Beryl was in high spirits - never a good sign. And he wasn't a cousin of the Queen, no more, at least, than the vast majority of all the other Dukes and Duchesses, Earls and Lords and Ladies were. But that didn’t stop Beryl, of course. “Knight. Unless you want to go with that Dennis lad?”
“Shut up!’ Beryl’s face flushed as red as her hair, and Cyril grinned.
