Detective to the Stars

[Nightbeat]

M7W3D7, MLP3:FIE set,semi-private

A blue Porsche with flame decals arrived at the studio gates earlier today, around lunchtime. The guard was eating a turkey sub with a little too much mayo. And if Nightbeat is any judge, his artificial heart valve is making noises it shouldn't be. As he explained that he was from the Continental Detective Agency and was here to see Addison Payne about a case, Muzzle subtly moved the conversation to the old man's health, feigned surprise that he had a prosthetic valve (no way! really? because you look so great!), and made up a news report he saw about how there's been a rash of malfunctioning heart valves, maybe you ought to get it checked out.

A couple of female extras wandered over to admire the car as Muzzle pulled up and parked as near as he could to Mr. Payne's trailer. Muzzle advised them not to scratch the paint, and made very clear that neither of them was going for a ride in the Porsche, no matter what was on offer.

Now he's finally knocking on the door of Addison's trailer. Mr. Payne may know he was coming. Presumably he got told that the private detective he hired was on his way.

[Mirage]

let's say M7W3D7, ie the day after Jezebel in Hell. Workable?

---

Addison is indeed expecting Muzzle. The actor opens the door to his trailer and greats the detective with a thin smile.

"I admire your promptness. I'm used to such people taking their time when they are paid by the hour."

"Do come in," he says, stepping aside so that Muzzle can enter. Once the detective is inside, Addison will close the door.

[Nightbeat]

Workable. Into post has been modified accordingly.

"I don't get paid by the hour," Muzzle says as enters the trailer, taking off his hat and coat and really noticing Mirage for the first time. His face screws up a little and he suddenly feels like he needs a cigarette (more than usual). "You . . . look . . . nice," he says to the spy-turned-movie-star, in a somewhat confused fashion.

"So what's new?" he asks, looking around the room.

[Mirage]

Addison shoots Muzzle a look at the very out of character compliment. The model steps over to the bar and pours two glasses of Scotch. He holds one out to the detective.

"I ran into Pee-Dee last night," he says, tone entirely too neutral.

[Nightbeat]

Muzzle sloshes the ice around in his scotch before swigging it back. He was expecting to talk about actual spy stuff and pussyfoot around the issue before they actually got to talking about this incredibly complex and awkward matter. But fine. If Mirage thinks giving him alcohol and then ripping the band-aid off quickly is going to make this less likely to end poorly, then that's fine.

"Yeah?" he replies, tone equally neutral, the tone of a detached detective questioning a witness.

[Mirage]

Addison prefers to not prolong his certain doom. At least he didn't sleep with Petunia. He has too much respect for Nightbeat to have done that.

"It was at a club. She with with a gentleman whom I must confess I do not trust at all. He tried to claim stewardship over her," Addison snorts indelicately, "she was unamused."

"I suspected her identity, but then she mentioned you, and I became certain. She is very unaware of herself or who we really are, but I imagine you know that."

Addison takes a long sip of his drink before flopping gracefully down on the sofa. "The name of the gentleman- and I do use the term loosely- is Arthur Aldrin. I thought you may wish to do some background work on him."

[Nightbeat]

"She woke up in the hospital with amnesia," Muzzle confirms, nodding and taking a seat on something across from Mirage, be it a chair or a dressing table. "Arthur Aldrin? Don't know the name. We'll look into it," he says, screwing his face up as he compares his own mental state with Nightbeat's.

"You using some kind of weird potpourri in here or something?" he asks, unable to put his finger on what's bothering him.

[Mirage]

Muzzle can have a chair.

Addison shrugs one shoulder at the potpourri comment, "Just the candles." They are Yankee Candles, of course, because Addison's player likes to break the fourth wall that way.

He props his elbow on the arm of the sofa, and props his chin on the back of the hand. "So, real amnesia on top of whatever made so many of us forget. That... explains a lot."

"The two of you are dating after a fashion, yes?"

[Nightbeat]

Muzzle lounges all over that chair.

To his credit, he doesn't splutter and do double-takes when asked awkward questions by cool cucumber Mirage. "I'm not gonna take advantage of the broad when she doesn't even remember what species she belongs to," he growls, giving the spy-turned-actor the evil eye. "Besides, I dunno if she really likes me or if she just likes me because she remembers liking Nightbeat. I'm just looking out for her right now, is all."

[Mirage]

"Mmmm, hmmm. Well, she is certainly fond of you."

He stares at the dark liquid in his glass for a moment, obviously thinking. Addison's mouth opens and he seems about to say something, but instead takes a long drink.

"I was rather circumspect during our discussion, but she is now aware that you and I know each other, and that I know her as Pee-Dee. As far as she is concerned, you and I worked together after a fashion. Also, that your car hit me."

"I, ah, also refused to bring her home with me because I knew you- Nightbeat, really- would likely not be pleased with me had I done so."

Understatement of the year, that.

[Nightbeat]

"As I seem to recall, you deserved it," Muzzle responds. He caught that slip where the spy confused him and his Headmaster partner. And why not? There's a reason they've got one of the most harmonious *Master bonds. Doesn't make it any easier when they've both got the hots for the same dame, though. He considers asking Mirage for romantic advice about the unique situation, because if anyone knows anything about this lovey-dovey scrap, it's him. But then again, it's Mirage, and Muzzle is not about to reveal the existence of his emotions to Mirage of all people.

"Yes, I would be justifiably pissed at you if you did that. And why in all the rings of the homeworld do I want to sleep with you right now?!" he growls angrily.

[Mirage]

Addison thinks Muzzle's feelings about Petunia are as clear as Nightbeats are for Pee-Dee, but he is being polite enough not to press the point for the moment.

Muzzle's outburst makes the actor quirk a brow, smirk and drawl, "Because I'm just that pretty, even as a human?" Really, Addison has no idea what Muzzle is talking about, and won't for a few more days. Muzzle's reaction isn't abnormal for the actor, though, so he's taking it all in stride.

"Seriously," Addison shrugs one shoulder, "Very few people who meet me don't want to sleep with me. Don't worry over it. I'm certainly not interested in bedding you." Muzzle is so not Addison's type.

Addison purses his lips, "Mmm, but don't mention your attraction to Petunia. I think she might ask for a threesome, and that would just be awkward."

[Nightbeat]

Muzzle gives Addison a look that conveys a desire to strangle, and not in a fun, kinky way. He rubs his hand over his forehead. "You are one sick puppy, sometimes, Mirage."

The Nebulan takes a deep breath. "Gathered any useful intel?" Come on, rich bot, where are the 'Cons?

[Mirage]

Addison cocks his head and looks confused at the "sick puppy" comment. He really has no idea what he said that might be construed as beyond the pale.

Then Muzzle asks about intel, and the actor sighs in exasperation.

"When, exactly, am I supposed to gather intel when I am so busy, and so often in public, Detective? I can't exactly go around asking my bed partners if they are Decepticons in disguise."

[Nightbeat]

It was the threesome thing. That would involve Nightbeat and Mirage in bed together, which would be so wrong it could create a hole in reality that grotesque tentacled horrors would emerge from.

"Any chance you could use your off-hours, money, and charisma to start an international spy network to ferret out Decepticons?" That's not too much to ask, right?