Bergen peers down at my monitor.
Bergen: What are you doing?
Angela: Your brother.
Angela: He’s part of the book too, Bergen.
Bergen: Yeah, but I’m better. The sign says so.
Angela: You put that sign there!
Bergen scoffs again and the author rolls her eyes.
Bergen: Just cut the scene. I’m not in it any way.
Angela: No, Bergen. I need this scene to show Rune’s inner confli—
Bergen leans over and begins to scroll up through the manuscript.
Angela: What are you doing?
Bergen: Going back to the part about me.
Angela: Don’t touch the keyboard! I’m the author! You g—
Bergen takes a drink from a fresh bottle of Guinness.
Angela: Is that my Guinness?
Bergen: [smiling] My lady, you know it is.
Bergen: Write about my sword.
Angela: I did.
Bergen: What did you write?
Angela: You have a sword, Bergen.
Bergen: What’s it look like?
Angela: It’s black, Bergen.
Bergen: Black. I picked that of a Fae goddess! Do it justice! Talk about how the Seidr flows gold under the black metal or how awesome I look while wielding it. The ladies will like that.
Angela: It’s just a sword.
Bergen: It’s cool! You talk about Rune’s sword. You gave it a black fire opal pommel and silver filigree! Do I get silver filigree?
Angela: I already talked about your sword! I need to be working on Rune!
Bergen: Rune isn’t as interesting.
Angela: Well he would be if you let me work on him.
Bergen: If you’re going to have me scoff this much at least say that I scoff derisively.
Angela: It’s implied.
Bergen: Well, at least add something about my scars! I have awesome scars.
Angela: This whole book can’t be about you.
Bergen: I’m hardly in it!
Angela: That’s because I have to lead into your story!
Bergen takes another drink of the Guinness.
Angela: And stay out of my Guinness or I’ll kill you off in the third chapter!
Bergen: [grinning] Baby, you can’t kill me.
Angela: Watch me!
Bergen: People love me. You kill me and your popularity will drop like a pair of bal—
Angela: Bergen! I’ll write you wearing woman’s clothes.
Bergen: And I’ll still look—
Bergen: WHAT IS THAT!?
Angela: It’s you.
Bergen: That is NOT me! I look more like this!
Angela types like a rabid dog.
Bergen: What did you just do?
Angela: I killed you.
Bergen: You didn’t kill me.
Angela: Shut up. You’re dead.
Bergen: You can’t kill me.
Angela: Yes, I can. I did. [Angela points] Right there. I embedded a dagger into your back.
Bergen: A dagger!? You killed me off with a nine inch blade!?
Angela: Four inch.
Bergen: What the fu—
Angela: Too much?
Bergen: Woman! I’m the Dark One! The legendary Berserker—
Angela types again.
Bergen: What is that you just added?
Angela: I took away the dagger and changed it to the flu.
Bergen: The flu!?
Angela: That’s right.
Bergen: You did not just kill me off with the flu.
Angela: Sure I did. It’s right there. “Bergen dies of the flu.”
Bergen: That isn’t even poetic.
Angela: Who cares? You’re dead.
Take my hand and descend into the bowels of darkness! Join me and follow so that you may lay upon your death bed and say that you have tasted the sweet nectar that flows from the earth! Adventure so that you can say you have lived… and receive a monthly newsletter from me.
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