“You’re right… Nice guys never get the answers they need.” She rested her chin on her hands and listened to him react to the same story all over again. “I don’t think he has a crush on me… I just think that he was tired of how bad things became for the Diablos. They weren’t always like that… They were supposed to be like the modern day Robin Hoods.” She knew the story by heart and it wasn’t because she wrote it. She learned the story from her future husband. “Desi hates that guy. I’m not allowed to wear the shirt at home.”
Kamala nodded before she leaned back against her chair and then spun herself around. “We need to keep churning out these things or else we’ll get laid off like the rest. Journalism might be dying and yet Gawker-esque bullshit still eixsts… You and I should start a podcast or something… Then when they look up our faces, they’ll say, ‘wow, this guy looks hotter than he sounds.’” She stopped spinning and faced him again. “But yeah, Hyperion. We should reveal that before we have another Red Ranger repeat.”
She rolled her eyes when he started to flex. “Harry, human or not, everything can die. My mom and dad use to say that nothing is truly Immortal because all you have to do is to find the right way to end things… I mean, they sold magical artifacts for a living, so it paid to have stuff that could do just that.” She raised a brow at him. “What kind of dreams? Like of the sexual nature? Harry, we’re friends and you’re beautiful, but no amount of beauty will make me want to hear about them.”
"Noooo ...," Hawthorne replied to Kamala and shook his head, "I don't think that's right. That doesn't sound right." At this point Hawthorne knew he was being stubborn. Regardless of whatever story Kamala spoke about The Diablos, Hawthorne couldn't believe that she and Castigador were just simply that. He narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head slowly before he said, "I swear, with the way you and Desi act, he's probably Castigador." That was a statement that Hawthorne thought for the longest time, but he never looked into it. Kamala was happy and Desi was a good guy - why would he pry and do anything to ruin that. "If Desi was Castigador," Hawthorne clicked his tongue and then said, "Now that's a story."
Hawthorne laughed at her suggestion. He rose his eyebrows and asked, "Do you think I have the face for a podcast?" Was his voice pleasing to hear? He wasn't sure, but what he was sure about was that Kamala was right. Journalism was a dying form. Unless they were churning out clickbait worthy articles, journalism was always going to be in the losing lane. He sighed and then cast a glance back at her as she stopped turning. "I should do a follow up on the Red Ranger," Hawthorne said, "I heard he's back in the city but no one's seen him return to morphing. Not yet."
"That's not true," Hawthorne said with a slight laugh. He shook his head and said, "There's plenty of people in Ceres Centropolis that don't die." He pointed at her and said, "After the invasion, everyone said that the owner of The Gamble died but he's walking around just fine. Every lead I had on that fizzled though. Men like that have too many secrets that they make sure to burn." Hawthorne laughed, "No. If I wanted to share my wet dreams, I'd make a podcast about it." He grinned but then said, "No, I keep getting glimpses of a life. Like I see life being lived through my eyes, but I know they can't be my memories." Hawthorne gasped, "What if I'm a dream walker?"