Television Romance

Unsuccessful Punch

Bill wasn't expecting the host to come up to him, so when he saw her approach he took a step back to give her access to the punch bowl. She stopped right in front of him instead.

"Cool costume," she said.

"Oh, thanks, but it's not a costume. This is my business-casual look."

"Is the trident business-casual too?"

"No, just business." She laughed, but it was the laugh of someone filling time, building up the courage to say something. Or waiting for someone else to say something.

"I like your costume too," he said to fill the space between them. She was an angel. Dark angel? A black dress and angel wings. Whatever that was. Bill wasn't an expert, but he was pretty sure she had on the same wings as those Victoria Secret models. Did that really qualify as a costume given that she wore those to a normal day of work?

"Hey, listen," she said, "I never do this, but, well, I had a lot of fun this week"—Bill had a sudden thought, halfway between epiphany and delusion, completing the sentence in his head before she spoke it aloud—"Would you want to get coffee or something some time?"

Or something, his mind said without permission. Then he saw Juliet out of the corner of his eye, gesturing emphatically with a blue Solo cup. He turned back to the host.

"I... I'm really flattered," he began and he could see her face fall a little, but also a hint of surprise. He supposed supermodels weren't used to rejection by comedians. In fact, he was pretty sure there was an entire genre of pop culture based on the opposite dynamic.

"I'm not sure it's a great idea. You know, I get really busy with the show and I'm sure you're busy too. Plus, we're not supposed to flirt with the host."

"I'm not the host anymore," she pointed out.

"True," he said with a smile, but nothing more.

"Alright. No hard feelings, right?" she asked, matching his smile.

"Not at all. Did you want to come hang with us? We're all big fans."

"Oh, I think I should say hi to everyone. I'll see you around though."

"Sure, see you." You fucking idiot. What kind of idiot turns down a supermodel? A stupid fucking idiot.

"You never do anything nice for me," he mimicked under his breath as he walked back over to the gang, "Never do anything-"

"Where were you?" Artemis asked him.

"Getting some punch."

"But you're not holding any punch."

"I was unsuccessful." She looked at him, eyebrows drawn together, head cocked. The lights caught her gold hair clips. He swallowed, then grinned.

"What are you guys waiting for? Let's party."

"We've been waiting for you," Jerry said.

"Okay, Sam, give the toast."

"Why do I have to do it?"

"'Cause you're dressed like Lincoln." Sam opened his mouth to argue but decided against it. Instead, he instructed everyone to raise their cups and bottles and pray that LTV didn't get canceled before Christmas.

"Are you drinking straight vodka?" Bill asked Juliet. Her cup was filled with a clear liquid. He wasn't really surprised about the vodka. He just figured Halloween would call for something more like a bloody mary.

"It's water, Poseidon."

"Why?"

"Why is it water?"

"You know what I mean."

"I have a date tomorrow. I don't want to be hungover."

"Is this the same guy from last time?" Vian asked.

"You mean like a month ago? No, it's a different guy. He's Italian."

"Juliet Lavigne," Bill said tiredly, "remind me to kill you when I get a chance."

"Yes, your godliness. Now, who wants to break into Greg's office and move all of his stuff six inches to the left?"