(I’m super sick. So please don’t mind this lame rp. Just wanted to get something up. Yesterdays wasn’t much better anyways. Good luck, love!)



The scene opens up to Psyche in her hotel room. She has a phone to her ear, talking to someone on the other line. She is pacing back and forth, mostly just to have some movement going while she spoke.

Psyche: “This guy is completely pitiful. He says my promos are useless? Look at his. He’s got all these random shots of the boring shit he does throughout the week. I’m clearly the boring one here, right?”

She shakes her head, changing the direction she was walking once again. On the other line was Bryan, but his responses are unheard.

Psyche: “Is he following me on twitter or something? I don’t see where he’s getting this information about me constantly being on twitter. I was on a plane. Obviously I’ll post on my twitter account. And I post things for my friends. And tag my friends in them. Is he just sad that nobody tags him? That I don’t talk to him on twitter? He must be jealous of that or something…”

She laughs out loud as she walks towards her kitchen. She opens the small fridge door, inspecting the contents. There isn’t much, since she hadn’t really gone out to grab anything for the next couple days she’d be staying in the room.

Psyche: “I need to go on a proper trip to get some food and essentials. This is just sad…”

She grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge and placed it on the small counter space beside the fridge.

Psyche: “And then there’s his bloody obsession with my ‘nickname’.”

She does air quotes with her hands, leaning her head against her shoulder to hold her phone.

Psyche: “Is he talking about what I wrote on my application? I haven’t been around long enough to give myself a special name like yours, RJ… ‘The Antagonist’ is so extremely original as well. I applaud you.”

She rolls her eyes and moves her hands down to the Coke bottle to open it up.

Psyche: “What are you doing today anyways, love?”

She pauses, bringing the bottle to her lips, taking a sip.

Psyche: “That sounds like fun. You going to come ‘round afterwards? I was hoping to have a proper chat with you about something. Nothing bad at all.”

She smiles into the phone.

Psyche: “You’re paranoid. Text me when you’re finished, yeah?”

She nodded as if he could hear it through the phone.

Psyche: “Perfect. I’ll see you later, love.”

She drops the phone down from between her head and shoulder. It slides down, landing right into her hand. With a quick tap, the call ends. She takes another sip of her Coke and walks towards the table.

Psyche: “You give me way too little to work with, RJ. You wonder why all I do is respond to each little thing you said about me? Because everything else you say is silly filler speech. I have nothing to go on. Nothing to say about you. All you did was nitpick the small amount of things I’ve done on Twitter and in random things I’ve done since I came here. Talking about my name, my relationship with my boyfriend, how I look.”

She counts each thing on her fingers.

Psyche: “You’ve even come to conclusions about what everyone else in the world thinks of me when they see me, as if the world shares your same views of me. I honestly don’t care what you think of me. You have such a warped view of those around you that you can’t see anyone without seeing a threat. And that’s sad. You must have some mommy and daddy issues, love. You might want to get that sorted.”

She smiles big, putting a hand on her chest over her heart.

Psyche: “But I’m here for you, RJ… I can be your friend if you need me. I’m not a threat… Until I get into that ring with you and beat you to a bloody pulp. Embarrassing you in front of everyone in the arena.”

She laughs.

Psyche: “You think I’m a little bit off the edge. Or that I’m touched, or something. I’m honestly not. I don’t think that it’s that I’m too stupid to know what you mean when you say something… I think you’re just not good enough at putting your proper thoughts into words. This must prove true, since the things you say are taken the wrong way. You might want to rethink how you word phrases. Or rethink yourself all together.”

She raises a brow and moves to her bedroom. She walks into the bathroom for a moment, not seen while in there. Her shirt flies out of the door, landing on the bed. She pokes just her head out of the bathroom, looking to the camera.

Psyche: “My preference in movies and enjoying horror are just that. My preferences. I don’t care that you think I’m a sick freak because I enjoy the special effects aspect of a movie. Or that I find a woman, who happens to have her skull showing, attractive. My thoughts on what is appealing to my eye are completely different to yours. I never once said I had fantasies about being tied to a chair and beaten. I’m not looking to have Bryan hit me during our time alone. And if it is, that’s no business of yours. Keep your ideas of forcing items into my body to yourself. I wonder… who’s the one who looks like a sick fuck now?”

She laughs and pops her head back into the bathroom. After a few moments, she comes out in a different outfit than her previous one. She’s in a pair of tights with a cut up t-shirt. Something easy to work out in.

Psyche: “Now, love… I have some working out to do. Do me a favour, hm? Keep out of my business. I’ve kept out of yours, since I don’t really care about it, other than the bullshit you’ve had within your promos. Again… Nobody cares about me? Nobody cares about your family life and the gambling you like to do either. Get over yourself, RJ. You’re not that special. I want to show you just how different we really are. This will be a challenge for you. I promise you that. We simply share our move to America with each other. That’s it. I’m about to show you just how wrong you are about me, love. And this will be a test that you will fail.”

She smiled sweetly and blew a kiss towards the camera. She grabbed a few items and walked towards the door to leave, ending the scene.