Bauman just smiled. "I'm going to surround myself with your wife as soon as I take you out of the picture for good. The whole mates-for-life thing ceases being a thing when the Mate is dead."
"Uh-huh. This is my skeptical face, Bauman."
Janni glared. "And this is my 'not in a million years, you bastard' face. Even if I was single, I wouldn't go off with your sorry, bad-writing ass."
Now Bauman was offended. "Bad writing? My movies have been very successful at the box office, missy."
"That's because the talent rose above the material," she snapped back.
"I'll just have to teach you respect once you're my Mate."
"In between all the vomiting I'd be doing?"
This was all good, Ben thought, because it was giving him time to recover his strength and mobility. "You tell him, honey."
"Shut up," Bauman said.
"Yes, very articulate, is that the kind of dialogue you give your characters? No wonder Janni comes home from the set and throws things. It's not because you hit on her at every single opportunity even though she's shot you down every single time, it's because of the crap writing. My sympathies, honey, I see how it is now."
Bauman stalked forward, a snarl on his face. "Just remember who's got the gun, wolf." He pumped it for emphasis, and a shell went flying out. He looked comically surprised at that.
And Ben decided he was done with this bullshit. He rose fluidly off the table and prowled toward Bauman. "And this right here is another case of 'did not do the research.' No wonder Hollywood never gets this shit right. Next thing, you'll hold the damn thing sideways and try to shoot me one-handed." He smiled. It wasn't a nice expression. "Actually, I'd like you to do that. It would be funny."
Honestly, this story was a lot of fun to write.
In other news, I'm still working on my last two outlines. June is going to sneak up and bite me if I'm not careful.