Megamind scoffed, “I’ve come closer to nearly winning then you are recalling, clearly Miss Ritchi,” frustrated at how today was going, he snipped, “And why is it exactly that you assume I don’t have anyone? Hmm?”
“Do you really think that my entire life revolves around you and Wayne, really Roxanne?” he sighed, his mood dipping low enough that he broke character briefly. Shaking his head and scowling at himself he tried to shake himself back into the right mindset, “Miss Ritchi, all will be clear once we arrive. I’ll get to enact the latest great battle against my lifelong nemesis, you’ll get your story, and the status quo will remain. Everything is perfect. Just how it is,” his jaw snapped. Do. Not. Ruin. This. For. Me. He added silently.
“Megamind. I’ve literally never heard either of you mention anybody else.” A little caught off-guard from the change in address, the reporter tries to goad him on a little further, careful not to let her tone slip too far into incredulous or mocking territory. “So there IS somebody else, then? Who?”
Twiddling her thumbs absently as they drive, Roxanne shakes her head lightly. “I’m just saying, instead of just barely scraping by, always trying for a win or a one-up over Metro Man, maybe there’s an alternative.” She stretches her legs out under the dashboard, wondering just how much further there even IS to the lair, and hums softly. “You know, this has been nice, getting to talk to you instead of just waking up in the chair with a headache. I vote for this method in the future, for what it’s worth.”
“Miss Ritchi, this is a professional kidnapper kidnappee relationship,” Megamind raised an eyebrow as he put the car into park, “My person life has no need what-so-ever to make it onto your precious news feed. That’s what the hero is for.”
Undoing the rope to get her out of the car, Megamind ignored the rest of her questions. His silence protected the people who raised him from nosy reporters. He would never compromise them or the underground contacts that supplied him and Minion with food and parts. It was a carefully set up underground contact ring, a nosy reporter would only get herself hurt poking her nose into the real underbelly of Metro City.
“Oh I see, you are attempting to pur-swade me to turn over a new leaf by convincing me that I am a poor lonely soul you can save with the offer of what? Friendship? As if you ever could,” he snorted, sour and dismissive, “I’m the bad guy, Miss Ritchi. This is what I do and I do it very well.”
Guiding her out of the car, he added, “And we most certainly will NOT be repeating this,” it had been horrible and awkward and filled with uncomfortable questions, “You’ll have to satisfy your nosy reporter skills elsewhere.”
RP backup 