The scene opens inside a quaint café nestled in a quiet corner of downtown Toronto, just far enough from the bustling city center to avoid drawing much attention. The café is a charming, unassuming space with rustic wooden tables and chairs, shelves lined with books and potted plants, and soft instrumental music playing in the background. The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of pastries, creating a cozy atmosphere. The staff are exceptionally friendly, greeting the few patrons by name and offering personalized drink recommendations with cheerful smiles.
At a corner table, tucked away from prying eyes, sits Ms. Sweetins. Her dark sunglasses and stylish scarf do little to hide her anxious demeanor as she sips a frothy cappuccino, her fingers nervously tapping the side of the cup. Her eyes flicker repeatedly to the door, clearly waiting for someone.
The soft jingle of the doorbell catches her attention. An older man in a neatly tailored business suit enters, his salt-and-pepper beard giving him a distinguished air. He, too, wears sunglasses, though his confident stride and composed expression contrast sharply with Ms. Sweetins’ nervous energy. He approaches the counter and orders in a deep, gravelly voice.
Man: "A candy cane-flavored double espresso mocha latte extra whip cream, please."
The barista obliges with a smile, remarking on the unique choice. Drink in hand, he scans the café briefly before making his way to Ms. Sweetins’ table. He pulls off his sunglasses as he sits down, revealing his identity—Bernard, the former Commissioner of NPCW.
Bernard (warmly): "Hello, Ms. Sweetins. I hope you had a good trip."
Ms. Sweetins (managing a small smile): "Oh, Bernard, the portal was fine, and thank you for meeting me here. I doubt any of Scrooge's spies would ever think to look for us in such a quiet place."
Bernard (with a knowing chuckle): "Yes, ever the cautious one. So, tell me, my dear, what’s so important that we needed to meet in person?"
Ms. Sweetins (voice quivering): "Oh, Bernard, I… I made a terrible mistake, and I’m so sorry."
She lowers her head, clutching her cappuccino as though it might shield her from her own words. Her voice cracks slightly, and she fights back tears.
Bernard (in a grandfatherly tone): "Now, now, my dear. I’m sure it’s not as bad as you think. And even if it is, we’ll face it together and overcome it."
Ms. Sweetins (blurting out): "I accidentally disclosed that you still had a wrestler's contract!"
Bernard (frowning briefly before softening into a smile): "Is that all? They were bound to find out sooner or later. And honestly, it’s not like they can force me to wrestle."
Ms. Sweetins (growing more distressed): "But that’s where you’re wrong, Bernard. Since your wrestling contract got linked to your manager contract back in December, you’re technically considered a ‘wrestling manager.’ That means if you fail to fulfill your obligations as a wrestler, they could fire you as a manager too!"
Bernard’s cheerful expression falters slightly as he processes her words. He leans back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
Ms. Sweetins (continuing): "The only saving grace is that your contract only requires you to wrestle once every thirty days. But since you haven’t competed since December, you’re already in violation. They can’t outright fire you yet, but they can—and will—compel you to wrestle. And, oh Bernard, by all that is jolly, who knows who they’ll set you up against!"
Bernard takes a moment, his face now a mix of concern and determination. Sensing how hard Ms. Sweetins is taking her slip-up, he shifts into a reassuring tone.
Bernard: "Well, the earliest they can compel me is at the April 20th show, correct?"
Ms. Sweetins (nodding): "Yes."
Bernard (smiling gently): "Then that gives me time to prepare and get back in shape. Don’t worry, my dear, this is just a hiccup—one we can and will overcome."
He takes a hearty gulp of his festive latte, nearly draining the cup. As he sets it down, whipped cream clings humorously to his beard, briefly breaking the tension. But Ms. Sweetins still seems uneasy, about to voice another concern, when they’re interrupted.
A shadow falls over their table as someone approaches unnoticed.
Voice (smooth and smug): "Well, well, well… What do we have here?"
Both Bernard and Ms. Sweetins look up sharply, their expressions shifting to alarm. Standing before them is a well-dressed man in an impeccable business suit, carrying an oversized phone. His most striking feature, however, is the green fur covering his body.
Bernard and Ms. Sweetins (in unison, shocked): "Grinch Heyman!"
Grinch Heyman (grinning devilishly): "The former Commissioner secretly meeting the current Commissioner's executive assistant? My, my, I wonder what the two of you could be plotting."
Bernard (calmly, though his irritation is clear): "Just two old friends catching up, Grinch. Now, what brings you here?"
Grinch Heyman (gleefully): "Why, truthfully, I was looking to have a word with Ms. Sweetins about a little matter I need her help with. Imagine my delightful surprise to see her meeting you instead."
Ms. Sweetins (cutting to the chase, annoyed): "What do you want, Heyman?"
Grinch Heyman (producing a bundle of papers with a smirk): "I have a few contracts that need… let’s say, expedited approval. Scrooge, the old windbag, might try to block them, you see. I’m wondering if you could help ensure their passage."
Ms. Sweetins (examining the contracts, then smirking): "I see why you’d be concerned, given the company Scrooge has been keeping lately."
Grinch Heyman (smugly): "Precisely. And if you help me, well, I’ll make sure to help you."
Bernard (narrowing his eyes): "Just what are you up to, Heyman?"
Grinch Heyman (simply, with a sinister smile): "Revenge."
Ms. Sweetins (after a pause): "I’ll help, but it’ll take time. I’ll need a few weeks."
Grinch Heyman (grinning): "That’s fine. I have all the time in the world, and I’m a very patient man. Now, I’ll leave you two to enjoy your date."
Bernard (scowling): "It’s not a date!"
As Heyman saunters away, Bernard watches him with suspicion.
Bernard: "I wonder what that man is scheming now."
Ms. Sweetins: "Whatever it is, it might work in our favor. The enemy of our enemy is our friend?"
Bernard: "Heyman is no friend of the Alliance."
Ms. Sweetins: "Agreed. Speaking of the Alliance, any luck with your contacts on the Board?"
Bernard: "Yes, I have a meeting next week. Do you have the file on Vlad?"
Ms. Sweetins hands him a thick folder. Bernard flips through it briefly, his expression brightening for the first time.
Bernard (smiling): "Well, my dear, the next few months will certainly be interesting."
He finishes his latte, whipped cream still clinging to his beard, as Ms. Sweetins finally allows herself a small smile.
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