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3rd Person POV
"So…"
Barney leaned back on his booth, one eyebrow lifting slowly as he looked from Marshall to Lily. The pause was deliberate and a little dangerous. "....You're saying Ted is a whore?!"
Yeah, the danger of his loud mouth.
His voice shot up at the end of the sentence, loud enough to turn a few heads around the bar. Not the whole place, but enough people near him. Enough to make Carl glance over with mild irritation, enough to make a guy two stools away smirk into his beer.
Robin, sitting beside him, froze for half a second before her mouth fell open.
"…Unbelievable," she said, blinking. "So let me get this straight….if I sleep with him, do I have to pay him?"
Her tone was exaggerated, theatrical even. She leaned back slightly as she said it, one eyebrow raised, like she was testing the absurdity of the idea out loud. She clearly didn't believe it but the joke was too good to let go.
"Yes!" Barney pointed at her triumphantly. "Exactly! Unbelievable!"
He was already pulling out his phone, thumbs moving fast as if his body had gone on autopilot for wanting to know more, like a vulture seeing a dead body!
"It's not like he said that," Marshall said quickly, hands lifting in a defensive gesture. He glanced at Lily, searching for backup.
"But I'm worried about him," he added, softer now, more honest. "Something feels… off."
"Yeah," Lily nodded. "I thought maybe he was doing something shady. Or weird or maybe illegal."
She paused, then narrowed her eyes at Barney, who was grinning at his phone like a kid who'd just found fireworks. "...What are you doing?"
Robin leaned closer, craning her neck. "He's texting Ted." She said and a little frown appeared on her face.
Barney's grin widened. His eyes sparkled a little by looking at his phone. "You're right," he announced proudly. "Ted is a whore!"
He turned the phone around like he was presenting evidence in court or maybe just giving evidence for what he said.
Marshall leaned in first. Lily followed. Both of them stared at the screen longer than necessary.
Their faces fell almost in sync.
"…Okay," Lily said carefully, setting her glass down. "....As long as he's not doing anything illegal, we should support him….right?" Her voice was calm, but there's something irking her face.
Barney, on the other hand, looked energized. He stood up suddenly in his booth, wobbling slightly as the soft booth made him unstable.
"Attention, everybody! I have some news!"
"No! nope!" Marshall muttered instantly. "Dude! What are you doing?! Sit down!" Marshall lunged forward, grabbing Barney's leg in a panic.
The sudden movement knocked into the table. Beer sloshed. A glass tipped dangerously close to the edge. Lily and Robin tried to pick up the glasses so they wouldn't fall to the floor and break.
A few glance shot through the chaos of their booth right now. Marshal and Barney didn't really care that they created the chaos, it's a bar anyway.
"Hey! Hey! Marshall, stop it!" Barney yelped, flailing.
"My pants! Marshall! My pants!"
"Barney! Marshall! Don't make a mess!" Carl shouted from behind the bar, pointing sharply at both of them. Robin and Lily are trying to calm them down too right now.
With a groan of protest, Barney was dragged back down. He adjusted his clothes angrily, smoothing imaginary wrinkles.
"This is Italian," he snapped. "That means it's expensive."
Marshall didn't even blink.
"This is serious, Barney." He pointed at him, voice firm now.
"Ted is going to punch you if you do something like this!"
Barney scoffed, crossing his arms. "Worth it." he said but looking at Marshal who kept glaring at him, he just rolled his eyes and reluctantly agreed.
"Fine!" he added a second later, slumping back. "I won't say anything."
Robin is a little curious about what Barney texted Ted. As a journalist, ambiguity bothered her. And Barney's message? It was pure ambiguity.
'Hey Ted, how big is your client? Do they have a lot of money?'
Ted's reply sat beneath it.
'A lot.'
That's it. Ted just said that.
"That's nothing," Robin said finally, looking up to all of them.
"This proves nothing. And honestly? I don't believe Ted would do something like that."
She took a long sip of her beer, then shrugged.
"Well… if he were a whore, he'd be making a lot of money."
She snorted softly, remembering his skill in bed.
"Not like I'm jealous or anything—"
She stopped mid-sentence as three pairs of eyes locked onto her.
"…The point is," Robin continued quickly, clearing her throat, "this doesn't prove Ted is a whore."
Lily leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on the table. "Are you jealous, Robin?"
Robin stiffened slightly, looking at Lily who was interrogating her right now.
"Why do you sound panicked?" Lily asked gently, but her eyes were sharp.
"What exactly is your relationship with Ted right now? You know, I am a little nosy."
The table went quiet and waited for Robin to reply.
"Wh….what?" Robin laughed, a little too fast. "We got drunk. We slept together. That's it. Nothing else. Why do you care?!"
She lifted her glass and drank like punctuation.
Marshall shrugged, "Sounds normal." accepting it instantly. He doesn't really have experience with women, because Lily is his first time and last.
Barney shrugged too. To him, the skill of women is for him to have sex and not have breakfast together in the morning.
But Lily is different. She just watched Robin's reaction intensely.
"…Sleeping together, huh?" Lily murmured.
She knew Ted. College Ted especially.
Women came and went. Sometimes they stayed. Sometimes they didn't.
Sleeping together before labels? That wasn't strange.
But Robin?
Robin was different. Something feels off right now. She knows that Ted likes her and knows that she rejected Ted.
"…Alright," Lily said after a moment, lifting her glass. "I get it. It's not like Ted has trouble with women."
She said it casually, but her eyes never left Robin.
And there it was….
Just a flicker of reaction. A tension in Robin's jaw. Gone almost immediately.
Lily noticed a little bit but she let it go.
"Okaaay!" Barney clapped his hands loudly, breaking the silence.
"I know you're all curious about his job, so I'm texting him again!"
Marshall hovered closer, ready to intervene.
Robin exhaled and leaned slightly toward Barney, watching his screen and trying so hard to ignore Lily's eyes.
Lily stayed still, eyes thoughtful looking at Robin. She already knows that she will come back to Ted's bedroom, she's not the first woman to do that.
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Ted POV
"What's wrong?" Claire asked quietly beside me when she noticed I'd taken my phone out, my thumb hovering over the screen a second longer than necessary.
Barney.
Of course it was Barney.
Marshall and Lily had probably already told him I was meeting someone "important." Barney had never met a situation he couldn't make worse.
"Nothing," I said calmly, slipping the phone back into my pocket after quick replay to his message.
I lifted my eyes to the two men sitting across from us and cut into the A5 steak in front of me with deliberate precision. Perfect marbling and perfect texture. Expensive enough that every bite felt like a reminder of who was paying for this conversation.
"So," I continued evenly, as if we were just four people enjoying dinner instead of talking about millions of dollars investment, "have you already decided on a director for the movie?"
The two men across from us were representatives from Lionsgate.
Claire had arranged this meeting formally. Hunger Games was officially moving forward, and after weighing the options, I had chosen Lionsgate as the production company.
Their reasoning was simple and cautious.
They planned to produce Hunger Games first, maybe to test the water first before fully committing to The Divergent adaptation under Summit Entertainment. They wanted proof. Numbers. A safety net before doubling down on another dystopian franchise.
They said they would produce Divergent too.
But they didn't want to bleed money doing it for massive investment again. If this Hunger Games succeeds, they didn't feel cheated to invest in my other books.
I wasn't worried though.
The fanbase in this world was already large enough. The books had traction, loyalty, and word-of-mouth power. Whether the film exploded or merely performed well, it wouldn't flop and the investment is a success. I am sure of it.
"Well," one of the men finally replied, dabbing his mouth with a napkin, shifting into business mode, "we've already scheduled a few directors to consider."
He paused, then added politely, "Unless you have someone in mind?"
"Not really," I said.
I took a bite of the steak, chewing slowly, deliberately, before meeting his gaze again.
"Really?" Claire turned toward me, clearly surprised. "You don't have any suggestions? It's your book, Ted." She glanced at the two men as she spoke.
They were watching me closely now.
This was the moment of the test.
The subtle push.
The invitation to assert control.
They wanted a power play.
And I had no intention of playing it. I am just gonna say I am on their side.
"No," I said calmly, swallowing before leaning forward slightly, resting my forearms against the edge of the table. "We all want the same thing here, right? We don't want to mess up the movie."
I let that sit for a second.
"You've already paid me very well," I continued, lifting my wine glass briefly before sipping it a little bit. "And I know you're investing a lot into this project. Production alone is expensive. Marketing even more so."
I took a small sip again and let my words settle with them.
"So I trust you don't want to take a loss."
The words were polite.
The meaning was deliberately placed.
"Besides," I went on smoothly, "I'll be writing the screenplay myself. All I need is to be introduced to the director once you've chosen one. I want to talk to them, align visions, prepare the groundwork and make sure they understand what this story is before cameras ever roll."
I finished in one breath and set the glass down.
Claire exhaled quietly beside me. She knows what I am doing right now, so she gives the gentleman in front of us a gentle smile too.
Across the table, the two men exchanged a glance. A silent calculation passed between them before they both nodded.
"You're right," one of them admitted, lifting his glass. "Between production and advertising, we're already north of a hundred million. And no, we don't want this to crash and burn."
He raised his glass slightly in my direction.
The negotiations had already been handled by Claire. The deal was clear: I would write the screenplay, and I would have a voice, an official one as an executive producer.
This dinner wasn't about scripts.
It was about me.
They wanted to see if their investment was in the right hands.
They wanted to know if I understood my place.
Their employee.
Their asset.
Who am I kidding? I am just a thief. What place am I to be an arrogant writer? I am just trying to maximize my income and make friends.
"How about casting?" one of them asked after a moment, this time with genuine curiosity.
"Do you have any suggestions for the actress or actor?"
I paused for a second and looked at their faces. The question seems sincere and they really wanted to know about this. I am sure they already have a list which actor and actress to play, but my words are heavy enough to decide.
"Scarlett Johansson."
I said it casually, lifting my glass again and taking a small sip of wine before looking back at them.
"I have a feeling that," I added lightly and smirked to them. "She'll become a global name someday."
I tilted my head slightly. "But before all that, in Lost in Translation. She doesn't talk much. She doesn't need to. Everything happens in her eyes. I am talking about her acting, I am sure she can handle Katniss."
I set the glass down.
"That kind of presence matters." I shrugged faintly. "But we can always audition. I'd rather talk with the director first, build a plan."
Then I smiled just enough to being happy.
"Oh! and by the way," I added, lifting my glass once more, "congratulations on Saw. That franchise alone is worth a billion dollars."
Their faces lit up immediately.
Glasses clinked and laughter followed.
The tension eased, replaced by easy jokes and lighter conversation drifting between the four of us.