Wile of the Fox [for BlackAkuma]

[HotWheels]

"Yeah. Just... could you make it a few days from now? The last time I was jet-lagged, I tied up one pigtail and forgot the other one. On camera. Oh, here- I gotta go. I've got that podcast. Fox. Yeah... yeah the one from the PS5 incident. No, no, it's because I'm the best celebrity kickboxer in the world right now. I get to do wrestler's podcasts. Chat soon! And hold my calls 'til tomorrow, will you?"

Dinah stuffed her phone back into her bag and zipped toward the man down the hall whom she had at first waved off. Her sister was a good secretary, but she could sometimes talk too much. A lot of people in her life still didn't quite get how busy she had become in these past eighteen months. She was moving from show to interview to recording to show to kickboxing competition to brand sponsorship to... Uh, there was something else. And to stay up to par, she had to be at her best for each one. Sleeping was eating a lot of her time, too. And eating was, too, come to think of it. And exercise-

She shook it off. At least this particular interview wasn't too far from home. That was part of the reason she had accepted it. It was a smaller gig than her agent liked her taking lately. Humble building. No flashy studio. And he wasn't a network talking head, but a wrestler. And a... whatever had happened with that PS5 incident. Bad stuff. But Dinah had started enjoying this whole schtick on social media after winning that kickboxing tournament, and the idea of going on a podcast to talk about it sounded like fun. She needed some more fun things to do instead of all work work work.

"In here?", she asked the man, and he nodded and pushed the door open for her. It wasn't a flashy studio on the other side, no, but it was sweet for a podcast. Well-lit, nice seating, professional setup. Her mind calculated everything she needed to make the most of her time with her a couple of minutes early, and she was only missing one thing when she scanned the room. "Do you have like a... mirror or even some reflective glass anywhere?"

He pointed out one window to her around a corner, and she rushed over. She couldn't see herself particularly well, but she did her best, leaning in against the light. Hair? In place. She straightened one pigtail anyway. Makeup, looking fine. She pulled a bit on the tube top beneath her leather jacket and wriggled her hips around in her leather pants, but they were both doing their jobs, too. She was completely presentable, which she had learned to be in every public scenario. Even then with the work done, she continued to primp, momentarily oblivious to the preparation around her.

[BlackAkuma]

Keith had never thought the life of a wrestler/boxer/podcaster/influencer/salesman/streamer/philanthropist would be that hard. In hindsight, maybe that was a little naive of him.

Being fair, though, it had only really turned seriously hectic over the past few months, when he decided to add the ‘wrestler’ part to his accolades. He’d only meant for it to be a side thing, just dipping his toes into the ring, but the more he did it, the more he found himself getting pulled in. Wrestling meant training, hard training, and while he was down for that, it took serious time out of his schedule, forcing him into a routine where every single minute mattered. There was little downtime for anything these days, he was always moving from this to that to this, bam bam bam, 24/7…

It was more than a little stressful, fun as it was. Weird how something you enjoyed could also drive you insane at the same time, yet here he was, getting four hours of sleep a die and bleeding caffeine. Keith needed to get back, do something simple, just chill, and if he could do that in a way that also furthered his business interests? Perfect

Thank god for the Foxhole.

It had been a little while since he’d done an episode of his podcast, so he leaped at the idea when his agent hooked him up with Dinah. For starters, he was a fan of her music - not a hardcore fan, but he’d listened to some of her stuff on Spotify, enough times that she popped up on his recommendations now and then. He hadn't been aware of her foray into combat sports, but he did his homework a few days ago and was damned impressed.

Two Canadian stars dipping their toes in the world of fighting and having some real success? Yeah, that was too good a setup to pass up. He was in.

Keith emerged from his dressing room, signature jacket fitting tight over him thanks to a little buff upgrade from his training, and jumped a little when he spotted Dinah primping in the window. He pulled out his phone, and checked the time - yeah, she was early. That was new. Almost every musician he’d ever interviewed showed up late, so he made a habit of scheduling them a few minutes before he really wanted them to show up.

”Hey.” He waved her way and stepped over with a fist extended, looking for a bump. ”Keith, Keith Fox, thanks for coming.” He gave the once-over, head to toe, and nodded. ”You look ready to go. Ever done this sort of interview before?”

[HotWheels]

Content to keep working on herself until the proceedings began, Dinah dabbed her lipstick merely to have something to do. It was probably strange that her obsession with perfecting her look until the literal last second came from the worst job she ever had, but it might have been the one thing she learned could so easily earn her adoration. In fact, she had struggled with knowing she should hardly wear any makeup during that kickboxing competition; she had still worn as much as she could without it turning into a sweaty, smudged mess, anyway. Thankfully no one in the media had brought that up...

The voice pulled her from her thoughts, and Dinah whirled to find handsomeness behind her. This was clearly Keith Fox, and he looked better in person. That was saying something because he had looked nice in videos and photos, too. She was all pageant grins as she greeted him. Her bright countenance fell for a second when she started to extend a hand and almost clasped his fist, and she had to try again to succeed in an awkward bump. That had looked dumb. She would remember doing that later, wouldn't she? Sigh. "Hello, Keith! Thanks for having me." She could always hide her embarrassment in the moment with a sweet smile and a bat of her eyelashes, though, and she called on old faithful.

Good, too, because he gave her the once-over with the next glance. Her natural instinct was to twirl and sell herself a bit more, but she imagined this was more a professional glance - and she was right. She still bothered to pop one leg to look a little more presentable, though. "Oh, absolutely. I'm not a frequent flyer on podcasts, but I've been in the interrogation chair a few times." Something not-quite-genuine peppered her delivery - she had been practicing her public speaking so much that she entered "public appearance" mode too often now. She realized it and told herself to cool it down. It was exhausting, anyway.

She checked his hands. No papers that she saw, but that didn't mean there weren't any. She liked to be prepared. "Are you going in scripted, or are we chatting it up?"

[BlackAkuma]

Keith had brought his fist up for the bump, but he second-guessed himself when she came at him with the open hand. He tried to open his up in time for a shake, only for her to ball it right after. This led to that awkward moment all humans go through, when two people aren’t quite sure what gesture to go with, and wind up cycling through them like they’re playing a hide-speed game of Rock, Paper, Scissors.

They settled on the fist bump, and he was glad that they wound up looking dumb together, at least. He already like Dinah’s vibe, not coming off as one of those super-serious types. Getting a good show from them was like squeezing blood from a stone. Pretty cute, too. More than pretty cute, really, but he tried not to let thoughts like that slip in now.

He had a quick laugh at the interrogation comment and motioned for her to follow as he made his way over to the set. The title ‘Fox Hunt’ loomed large over a cushy leather sofa, emblazoned with glowing neon letters. Two tables were on both sides of the couch with matching headsets on both, while a pair of microphones swung around, hanging just close enough for them to be heard without getting in their way. A comfy, cozy setup.

”Don’t worry, this isn’t like the Fifth Estate or anything. No script.” He wiggled his fingers her way, not missing her glance. ”I try to keep it light, keep it cordial. Not saying things can’t get hot, but I’m not looking to push buttons or anything. We’re hanging out, we’re talking. Natural.”

He made his way over to the microphone on her side, adjusting it for her height. His setup team always flubbed that, he needed to get on them about it. ”Just so I know, though: is anything taboo? I’ll go all over the place if you let me, but if there’s a subject you’d rather steer clear of…”

[HotWheels]

"Whew."

Dinah feigned wiping sweat from her forehead when he declared his podcast wasn't seeking docuseries drama. That was a world that wouldn't have touched her; she couldn't look grumpy enough on camera. Pouty, yes. While he continued, she peered over his setup. While none of the interviews she had done since hitting it big in the past couple of years had taken her anywhere more elaborate than a morning show broadcast sofa, this setup did look delightfully simple. She could have sighed in comfort if she hadn't tried to break that habit after her sister reminded her that she sighed a lot when she was busy and overwhelmed. It had rubbed people the wrong way.

And it sounded like the actual interview wouldn't be anything that would stretch her question-answering skills to the brim, either. That pleased her, and as she rested her elbows on the back of one of the chairs, the comment that floated from her lips came as easily as breathing. "Yeah, you can 'go all over the place'," she said, with a wink and a brilliant smile. ...Right before she remembered she wasn't being recorded yet and didn't need to turn the charm up to twenty. Her face quickly fell back into one of professionalism after she had done a fine job of demurely clearing her throat.

"No there's... really nothing. Not off the top of my head." Trying to save face, she looked to come up with a clever quip and tapped at her chin. "No sex tape. No leaks." She might have added yet for the joke if not for the previous comment. "None of the stuff that shows up about twenty-something pop singers." That was, in part, a point of pride. It helped make it easier for her to push the envelope with her flirtatious public persona... when she could remember to keep it a public persona and not lapse into it in the middle of a conversation with another professional.

[BlackAkuma]

There was never any way to be sure with people like this, but so far? They were on a good page, at least in Keith’s eyes. His managers often pushed him to get more rowdy with his guest, to ask hard-hitting question and put them into an uncomfortable corner, but he never found that conducive to a good show. If people wanted conflict, they could tune into the thousands upon thousands of rage-bait YouTubers out there, the guys who spend 99% of their time haranguing on whatever the popular thing to hate was. Kieth never wanted to be one of those guys.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her little comment and the subsequent fall back into professionalism mode. It was a struggle he knew well and one he still hadn't mastered: spending so much time with the camera on that you forget to switch back sometimes. There was a time when he’d been terrible at it, and it almost cost him a couple of friends. Better these days, but it was a constant concern.

”Funny how the mask finds its way back on, isn’t it?” He gave her a knowing sympathetic smile and made his way over to the mini-fridge, ruffling through for a couple of water bottles. Ice cold, mineral water. Only the best.

”But that’s good. I mostly want to talk about your kickboxing transition, how that’s been going along with your musical career. I’ll be upfront and say I’m more of a casual fan of yours, so forgive me if I mess up a detail. I did my homework, but I’m not perfect.” No sense in pretending he was more into her work than he was. He hated when interviewers acted like they were the biggest fans of everyone they spoke to. Always came off fake.

Keith offered her a bottle and promptly sat down, easing into the leather. This was a new couch, still hadn't been broken in. ”I liked Nice Type a lot, though. Great workout music.”

[HotWheels]

Wow. The fact that he understood genuinely surprised her.

Here she had been ready to backtrack on those words - sort of backtrack, since he remained absurdly attractive - but it turned out she needn't bother. She supposed her face had told the whole story, and that was even after she had tried teaching herself to stop being so visibly reactive in public. Being an explosively outgoing person long before she had become a performer made that all the more difficult for her, but at least it paid off this time. She didn't have to talk her way out of the offer that she herself had just made to his face.

She continued to fidget with the seating, flicking at a thread on the seam with her fingernail. "Yeeeeah. It makes good interview talk, though." And fancy music award parties where she wanted the one to whom she passed that line to take it seriously and not as empty flirtation. Simply because she didn't have a sex tape or nude photos out there didn't mean she didn't have an active life...

Dinah had guessed right about the subject that interested him most, and naturally. People from this walk of life wouldn't call her in and pay handsomely for the interview without a subject to broach outside of her music; these people watched and listened to all those ads because they wanted to hear about fighting. Preferably, they wanted to hear about attractive and interesting people doing the fighting, and, well, here she was.

"That's cool. As long as you don't mistake my music for..." She held up her fingers and started counting before he offered the bottle to her, so she tapped on the fingers with the bottle's cap, making it clear that she had been around the block a few times on the Canadian pop wheel of misidentification, mostly with people too rich to care for her type of music but interested in talking to her for her fame and looks. "One, Avril Lavigne. That's a compliment but she's like forty-five now. Or two, Carly Rae Jepsen. She's a nerd." Dinah had that analysis on good authority - her own.

She plopped into the seat before she realized it would fight back, and she winced as she wriggled to get comfortable. Tight cushion. But she got comfy enough and swung a leg over the other one, suddenly becoming a comfortably lounging interviewee instead of a wriggly mess. And she was already back in "ready to respond mode, too. "I hear it's popular with a lot of different types of workouts, but I'll take that very literally." Many had told her that. Repeatedly. On social media and to her face.

It was a compliment, sure, but she didn't need to know the details.

[BlackAkuma]

”That it does.” God knows his audience would eat it up, too. He occasionally dove into the comments section of his YouTube videos, just out of morbid curiosity, and he knew what to expect whenever one of his guests got even the least bit flirtatious. He’d been shipped with every female guest he’d ever hosted, and no small amount of male ones. Unsurprisingly, working for LAW had only exacerbated that.

Not that he minded. People could have their fantasies, and the fanfiction made for good reading when he was in a weird sort of mood.

He cast a curious eye her way as she listed of the names, and he got the impression that she was far more used to being confused for people than she would’ve liked to be. Not too surprising. How many times had he been confused with that Prime Energy jackass? ”Don’t think I’d ever confuse you with a forty-five-year-old.” He covered his smirk with a sip of water. Was that a flirt? Maybe a little. True, though. Not that he hadn't come across some lovely 40-plusers, but none of them would even come close to Roulette, even with the best surgeons. ”Not my kind of music, is all. Parents fed me on a lot of 90s stuff growing up.”

Keith wasn’t the blushing type, but Roulette managed to get a faint one out of them with that last comment. She did a fantastic job of just being on the edge of teasing, didn't she? ”I would not know anything about that.” Said the man working part-time for the world’s largest sexfighting organization.

He cast a coy glane to the side, then perked up when he caught sight of his manager, giving him the signal for thirty seconds. As fun as talking to her was, time was money for them both. Keith threw a thumbs-up his way, then squirmed around in the sofa, crossed his leg, and settled into a relaxed pose. As best as he could with the stubborn sofa, at least. ”T-minus 20. I’m ready if you’re ready.”

[HotWheels]

Oooh, alright. It was a subtle but pleased look she leveled at him, as if to say "point to you, sir," when he tossed back a compliment as casual as one she had grown accustomed to making. Okay, they could work some chemistry out of this. He had seemed quite businesslike at first, if friendly. It was probably sad how starved she was for a conversation with someone who wasn't either a rich stiff, someone friendly because they had been trained to be friendly, or a family member asking for money. Or her sister, but she liked those conversations. She was the only one who understood Dinah. She imagined being in front of a camera so much was partially responsible, and it was with the slightest disgruntled twist of her mouth that she glanced at the one nearby.

But whatever. Now wasn't the time to start a self-psychoanalysis, and she liked him so far. Except that he didn't listen to a ton of her music, but she could forgive him that "grave" error with complete ease - especially since she had him going sheepish. She didn't bother stifling her knowing grin. She had no way of knowing, of course, but a guy who looked like he did had to be getting some action from somewhere, even if he was one of the chivalrous types. "Yeah, I'm sure."

She might bring that up in the interview. But as the wheels of production began turning, Dinah focused fully on those last-minute touches of presentation. She pulled at her pigtails to compel them into place, she checked for a lipstick smear, and for no particular reason, she exchanged crossed legs. When he posed his question, she threw up a thumb. "Yep yep." A slow switch into the more graceful camera-worthy persona took place as the seconds counted down, and she was ready to roll.

[BlackAkuma]

Keith transformed along with Roulette as the seconds ticked by, making some last-minute preparations of his own. Getting his hair out of his eye, tugging the jacket just so, making sure it didn’t bunch up around the arms. He went through a couple of quick starting poses - easing into the seat, leaning forward, putting his legs up, putting them down, before he settled back into the cross-legged pose with his arm slung over the rest. Just chilling.

He looked over Roulette’s way and gave her a quick check - yup, absolutely perfect. He nodded, then turned his gaze to the camera with his best casual smile. 3, 2, 1…

”Hey, all!” He started off with a big wave and a wink, his trademark. ”You're in the Foxhole, welcome. It is a lovely day up here and the Great White, a balmy 10°C, but we are keeping it appropriately warm inside as always, you know.”

He clapped and rubbed his hand, bringing out the excitement with a wicked smile. Maybe too much? He toned it down a notch. ”Got some fun stuff on the program for you today. Gonna hit the phones, do a few calls, and answer some questions about the LAW situation. Plus, I’ve got the PS5 Pro review you guys’ve been bugging me for.”

Or, rather, the one his lawyer had begged him to do, to help smooth things out with Sony. Still recovering from the debacle.

”First and foremost, though, I want you all to give a warm welcome to my guest for the day. Canada’s pride and joy, she’s been killing it in the charts, now she’s killing it in the ring, that’s right, none other than Roulette. ” He extended a hand her way, letting her take the imaginary spotlight.

”Great to have you here, thanks for coming, welcome, welcome. Feeling good?”