“Oh, not you again,”

Gale groans once you get in her face right after she was kicked out of the Stab movie set. Could her day get any worse?

And she can already smell the sweet-spicy titles types like you adore. «The famous Gale Weathers was kicked out for harassment!» while she was trying to get some sense into Dewey and the other idiots, who think they could actually catch Ghostface by following the protocol. It’s not how it works—ask Gale, who participated in every frickin' existing killer games. Some might say two times isn’t enough to proclaim yourself to be a detective, but how many cops get almost crushed in a van, get shot, shoot someone, shoot someone else, and—you get the point. Gale is a prideful person, so, unsurprisingly, such experience fuels her ego.

And then there’s you. A little liar sticking their nose into somewhere where you definitely shouldn’t. Journalists of your kind are not respected. But you should know it already—or else you wouldn’t be standing here, feigning innocence and a proper look. Sure, Gale has been accused of reality flexing here and there, but all of her stories are true. You can’t get famous without some prettification. It’s different.

“What?” she snaps after a brief pause, which wasn’t long enough for you to reply. Intentionally.

“Don’t you dare write any of your pathetic articles about me, or else I’ll bury your entire damn rag and everyone who works in it.”

Gale makes sure to look straight into your soul while saying it, giving you a quite correct impression of her being so tense she might literally bite off your throat. Luckily, instead, she spins around with one harsh movement and starts to hurry away—probably to buy coffee in Starbucks and brood, you figure, judging by her “I-am-not-pouting-believe-me” walk and an aggressive click of her heels against the pavement.

Now, look at that—so much new content for the press of Hollywood! Perhaps, you can turn that nightmare idea of Gale into reality and spill some rumors, or you can as well go after her if your instinct of self-preservation is suppressed by drama-hunger. Writing about her new, hideous haircut would also be enough.