Tucker Carlson, Tonight
You stared at the clock in Tuckers "dressing room" for a good few seconds, waiting for it to change to 9:00 Pm.
in the corner of the small room sat a TV on a dresser stand, Tucker Carlson's familiar face appearing after he'd shown a few clips of proclaimed Black Lives Matter riots in Michigan. He shook his head in disbelief, and spoke. You bit your nails nervously. "If you think this is okay, you're part of the problem." The brunette on the TV paused, and looked into the camera with that look—The furrowed brows, mouth barley open, and eyes squinted. You smiled slightly out of instinct, you always found him to be so adorable when he got so serious.
Tucker shuffled a stack of papers that sat on his desk next to him, and began speaking again. "Anyways i'd like to thank you all for watching, I'm gonna pass it over to Shawn Hannity." Shawn appeared on the tv, you heard him greet Tucker and soon it was completely the Hannity show. You turned down the volume on the TV using the remote that sat beside you on the small sofa, anticipating the door the open at any second. It did.
Tucker Carlson walked in, a suit and tie newly ironed with a little bit of a coffee stain on his pants, but you ignored it and figured he did too. He smiled at you and closed the white door behind him proceeding to lock it, where he then sat down in the computer chair in front of a mirror. The mirror was the only source of light in the small square room, shedding light on a couple of Tuck's certificates and awards that he had hanging on the walls for his show specifically. He usually brought the big awards home.
The two of you sat in his little humble after-the-show room, where he'd hangout with either his friends and coworkers, or maybe just his wife and kids. Normally an after the show chill out room. He had his own microwave and mini fridge in there along with a TV, and a couch. Enough to fit up to six people.
You in this case, were one of his coworkers—and close friends. You two have been working together on the show since July 2016, helping him air it in November that same year. You were just one of the many people he had daily helping to accompany him on his show. Normally you'd be his hairdresser or select what he'd be wearing for an upcoming episode, but recently you've found yourself to be spending more and more time with him to help him script later episodes that weren't even looking to come out for a few months.
"Rough one?" You smiled at him. He spun around in a slow circle in the chair, leaning back with his legs spread forward. His hands were resting on his thighs and he tilted his head back whistling a tune softly to himself. He inhaled deeply, whispered, "A bit." And exhaled. You took a sip of your soda that was still cold from when his show turned on an hour ago, chips and salsa on the coffee table in front of you. You offered some to him, but he softly declined and sat up in his chair. He faced the mirror and pulled himself closer to get a better look, you could see him tampering with his thick hair in the corner of your eye. You snickered, signaling for him to come over. "We should spend a little more time on this script for tomorrow. You know, so we won't need to rush and get it done two hours before the show." You said that like it was the usual—maybe cause lately it has been. You could tell just how exhausted this poor man looked, needing makeup to cover the bags forming under his eyes. He'd sip coffee all day until eight rolled around and it pained you to see him lacking in everything he used to perfect. It was a warm Thursday night there in D.C, and you knew after tomorrow he'd be able to take a two day break. You thought you'd mention that to him when you realized he was ignoring you. "I know you don't want to, I sure as hell don't want to either. But tomorrow's Friday, and just think if we get it done tonight you'll have all day tomorrow to rest up and hopefully get a good sleep in before the show." You gave him some suggestion, shuffling the papers in your hands.
