The call connects and there’s Roy, seemingly back at his own house, seated on a grey couch and wearing a scowl dark enough to match his t-shirt and jacket.
Trent smiles, though carefully not too wide. “Hello Roy. Thank you for agreeing to this.”
Roy grunts. “Better you than any of the other wankers,” he mutters.
Trent makes an effort to hide his grin. Visibly gloating about having the sort of access to Roy Kent that other journalists – independent or disgraced or otherwise – can only dream of isn’t likely to get him the exclusive comments that he needs from Richmond’s head coach on today’s kerfuffle.
“So,” he offers smoothly, “what do you—“
He’s cut off by the loud bang of a door slamming shut on the other end and a startled fuck from Roy and then there’s Jamie Tartt’s head coming into view as it flops down on Roy’s lap. He must have thrown himself down onto the couch.
“It’s all such fucking bullshit, man,” Jamie pronounces dramatically as he – Trent’s eyebrows rise another inch – grabs Roy’s arm and pulls it over his chest, claiming half a cuddle. “Did you know—“
“I’m in the middle of an interview, you twat,” Roy barks, but he does not, Trent notes with increasing interest and incredulity, remove his arm.
“Since when do— ?” Lifting his head from Roy’s lap, Jamie blinks at the screen. “Oh! Uh. Hi, Trent! How you doin’, you good?” His grin is wide, easy, with no hint of embarrassment, and Trent finds himself smiling back. Jamie has always been charismatic, but the last few years have seen his swagger turn into a good-natured charm that’s surprisingly hard to resist.
“I’m fine, thank you, Jamie. And regarding the news this afternoon, how do you—“
“No,” Roy immediately says, shifting to push Jamie off his lap in spite of the younger man’s indignant protests. “He has no fucking comment. He’s not part of this conversation. He’s not even fucking here.”
“The fuck are you on about, mate, he can see I’m— “
“Go to the kitchen,” Roy interrupts. “Get me a whisky. If I have to listen to you complain about wankers on Twitter or split fingernails or whatever, I need a fucking drink.”
“You’re an arsehole,” Jamie tells him from out of the picture, but he doesn’t sound particularly upset. “I haven’t even got any split fingernails.” And then he must be off because he doesn’t say anything else and Roy turns back to Trent, glaring like he’s daring Trent to say it.
Trent, with equal parts cunning and self-preservation, says nothing at all. Waits.
Eventually, Roy’s shoulders drop a millimeter. He lets out a huff. “Jamie’s fucking needy, all right? He needs fucking hugs and shit and he turns into a moody bitch prima donna if he doesn’t get them, so.” He presses his lips together, having apparently said all he intends to say on the subject.
Trent had noticed Jamie’s fondness for hanging off anyone's and everyone’s shoulder during his season with the team. He hadn’t known and would never have imagined, though, that Roy would ever be willing to indulge the tendency, especially not to this degree. And that rather begs the question...
“Roy,” he says carefully. “You know that, if the two of you are—“
“We’re not.” And Roy closes his eyes, shakes his head. Opens them, looking resigned, but looking a little bit wry too. “Be less fucking weird if we were, wouldn’t it? But we’re not. It’s just… “ He pauses. Shakes his head again. “It’s Jamie. Just… fucking Jamie.”
“Except you are not,” Trent says, just to be clear, just because being a bit of an asshole is a habit, and fun.
“Except I’m not,” Roy growls, and looks like he’s about to add something more – something scatching and imaginatively insulting, Trent assumes – but then he lifts his head, turning towards someone offscreen. “What— ? Yeah, we’re fucking done. Bye, Crimm,” he adds, and then the screen goes dark as Roy abruptly ends the call.
“Bye, Roy,” Trent tells the silence. “I’ll just text you the questions, shall I? You can get back to me when you’re done giving Jamie Tartt a cuddle.”
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just in case you haven't seen it this tweet is very important to me.
https://twitter.com/foolishmoon_/status/1729235494654136711
also anyone who thinks the morning crew relationship isn't equally important for all of them has clearly not watched all of their povs. pac was the one who got bbh and richas to go check on tubbo when he thought sunny was missing. cc!pac's facial expressions when tubbo does something smart are the best (i doubt i could find the clip again but there's one where tubbo figures out mike's contraption in about .5 seconds that lives in my brain rent free). pac has called tubbo a part of his family. there is no universe where it makes sense to say that pac doesn't care about tubbo.
I felt like I was getting stabbed in the heart when I saw some people say that, Pac cares about him so much, Tubbo has stated over and over again how much he feels that care. He’s not the loudest guy in the room, but just because he has trouble reaching out doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. Pac loves Tubbo, he’s always shown genuine pride towards him, he praises Tubbo’s builds and has like in the tweet taken pictures of Tubbo’s work just to compare. Tubbo’s family to him, and Pac’s family to Tubbo, it’s as simple as that. They just love each other and protect each other. Also how can anyone miss how Pac showed so must adoration towards Tubbo when he was soulfire’s leader, Tubbo is Pac’s guy.
How can Pac just be hanging out because of Fit, if Tubbo a guy who constantly bad talks himself and downplays his relationship goes Pac cares about him. There is so much love from Pac and honestly if I had time I’d make an analysis on their relationship because it has so many small wonderful things built into it. Pac values platonic relationships a lot and just because he’s a bit of flirt doesn’t suddenly make him value romantic relationships above all else.
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