2007-10-12: Exposure


Cam_icon.gif Joule_icon.gif Rochelle_icon.gif

Summary: Joule brings Cam along as caddy as she tries out for a new job; photographing Rochelle's wrestling league.

Date It Happened: October 12, 2007

Log Title: Exposure

A Small Venue somewhere in Manhattan

It is just turning into evening when the arena crowd literally piles into the League building, coming in from the chilly October air and into the stuffy front halls of the wrestling arena in what seems like droves; while it is nowhere the numbers that usually appear on the big fight nights, this is primarily the night of an exhibition match, and therefore quite harder to get tickets for. Chances are that there is also some charity waiting in the wings for some of the profit. There's a lot going on, and a lot of colorful and excited fans worming into the open arena seats, where the air is considerably also less stuffy. Last minute cleanup, set-up, and so forth is going on around the actual ring, staff making painstakingly sure that things are go.

In the back halls of the arena building, there are the wrestler's dressing rooms, offices, practice rooms, security hubs, and so on and so forth. It is mainly a building of concrete halls and shiny, waxed tile floors, but of course these halls are decorated heavily with wrestling paraphernalia which lends a more colorful nature to those trekking the halls. Right now, many of the technicians are still puttering back and forth through the halls and the arena, and the bosses remain in their offices making sure that things are running smoothly. Compared to the big events, this charity match is less of a gigantic wrestling hullabaloo, and more of an occasion to show off facilities and performers. Posters on the front of the building and inside the front halls make sure of this, advertising an exhibition of at least half a dozen wrestlers, yet naming none of them. The unnamed athletes that are either set to win or will win the matches are going to be the same ones that get to move onto bigger and better things in the League.

There is of course a separate entrance for the people working the event, and it is this plain-looking set of double doors that those like Joule are directed into. Photographers, cameramen, rival athletes, and even one really damn tall man in a grey suit have ducked into those doors as well. Just inside the doors, security reads identification and shunts everyone to their respective places. At least one man with a big camera gets pushed back outside, much to his dismay. The one doing the verbal punting also happens to be the Head of Publicity; she's a short, stocky-looking older woman, waiting inside the double doors with some of the security.

Joule, dressed smartly in grey trousers, argyle sweater, and white blouse under black duster walks in. At her side, Cam, who is doing her heavy lifting. Which isn't really all that heavy. He's got a couple of her camera bags, while Joule carries another bag of her own. She regards all the noise and color with quirk-browed cynical amusement, before she finally reaches out and *yoinks* somebody working for the league to point her and her assistant toward where to find the director of publicity.

That direction given, she leaves the college-age boy staring after her openmouthed. "Joule Dahanukar," she introduces herself, speaking to carry over the crowd noise. "You wanted me to take some shots of the exhibition match this evening."

Cam follows Joule in, carrying one of her bags. It's a good thing it isn't that heavy, really, the rather scrawny boy doesn't look all that strong, though he seems eager enough to help. Looking around as he follows Joule in, his curiosity obvious, though he sticks by Joule's side.

When the director gets brought to attention by one of the polo-shirts, the older woman meets Joule a bit further into the hall where it empties of bustling. She has got a voice kind of like listening to sandpaper; gritty, though still feminine in certain lights. Both of her hands have dark-colored nails that click when she brings her palms together and twines her fingers. "Miss Dahanukar, yes." Somehow, the woman does say it right, despite her busy aura. "My name is Lydia, and if you choose to accept the mission, I'll be your boss." Chances are that Joule was actually hired by one of Lydia's underlings, but the woman is still outwardly friendly enough. Lydia gives Cam a curious smile before continuing. "We needed extra hands to cover the new faces in the ring. You'll be given backstage rights, as well. Do you have any questions, concerns, demands?" A white smile peeks out from behind dark red lipstick.

Joule listens to Lydia ramble with that sort of respectful amazement that the woman could say so much without breathing. "I'm your girl," she assures the woman. "I've been doing photographs for years, and I've got the gear with me to get posed and candid shots. Backstage rights are brilliant. I'll need a pass for my young assistant, here. Concerns, I'll address after I've got the lay of the land. Demands? Expenses, for travel, and meals, because I can see already to do this right, it's going to be time-consuming. I want you to get your money's worth, and to do that, I can't be distracted by having to run out on a great shot to go to Dean and DeLuca." She regards the other woman evenly. "If we can agree on these terms so far, I think we've got the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

Cam, as Lydia smiles at him, returns it with an almost shy, "Hi." He quiets again quickly, looking back up to Joule as she makes her demands, and then back up to Lydia. Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, he just listens now.

Lydia has years and years of practice doing this very thing; doing things without breathing has to be second nature, or one risks losing ground. "I'm sure that we can handle most travel expenses. As for meals, we do have an employee cafeteria tucked away in the basement- athletes as well as staff are welcome to it, so you may have to fight a seven foot man for the last cannoli, but we do have nice kitchen staff."

Joule gives Lydia a brilliant smile. "Wonderful, then. Where would you have me set up and what would you like me to start with? Or do you just want me to take my own head and bring you the best of the batch when I'm done?" An indication she's flexible, and willing to be subserviant to Lydia's wishes. Her eyes dart occasionally, during pauses in Lydia's speaking, to various vantages, the photographer already picking out shots, perhaps.

Cam fidgets just a little as they discuss the details, starting to look around once again as well. Not used to being patient, though he offers no complaints.

Flexibility is the name of the game. "You seem to be more intelligent than most of the photographers we get in here, and we had artistry in mind when we found your number, so I'd like for you to take your own route. We have technical photographers, but we have very little of the same that can also say they know how to make a picture. So just snap your pretty little heart out, and bring us some gems, hm?" Lydia knows what's up, it looks like. She grins broadly again, yanking aside a young man in a polo shirt and a headset. "This is Mikey, and he'll be getting you situated with the photographer's passes. I'll be in the announcer's box if you have anything needing immediate addressing." Plural for the passes! This means as long as Cam does his job, he gets to stick around. Maybe he'll even get tipped if he turns into an arena monkey. Mikey seems bewildered, but he nods affirmative and beckons Joule and Cam along regardless. "Just a quick visit to Lyd's office. Come with me." The man doesn't really pause longer, heading out into the big part of the hall again and presuming he'll be followed. This hall they're taken down also happens to have a couple of dressing rooms. Out of one lumbers a long-haired, blond, seven foot man with a wrapped chocolate cannoli in his fingers. He regards this world outside his dressing room with a pair of baby blues the color of aquamarine, peering down at Cam and Joule as Mikey leads them past. The giant viking-man even waves to the new faces.

Joule grins at Cam, then tells him, "Step lively!" as she realizes Mikey's already moving. She falls into step just behind him, and only that because of how little room there is in the hall. "Well, hello to you too," Joule greats the great chocolate-loving viking. She actually lifts the camera and catches him waving; it'll make a great, friendly shot, if he's a Face. If he turns out to be a Heel, it could be used for soemthing to take him down with. She makes sure Cam's keeping up with a glance over one shoulder.

Cam blinks as his attention's drawn back to Joule, but he grins and nods, quickly following after, "I'm coming." As they pass the giant with the cannoli, he doesn't even hesitate in waving back, smiling cheerfully, "Hi." Despite his small size, he's not intimidated by the huge wrestlers at least. He looks back to Joule, following close, careful to keep the bag he's carrying from bumping into anything.
The next performer to saunter past is far more buxom, and brushes by when Mikey is leading them into Lydia's office. Long black hair, sharp green eyes, and curves pretty much matching that hourglass shape inch for inch. She looks much less friendly than that Cannoli Viking, but does steal a glance at the unfamiliar faces.

Mikey is luckily doing his job and not looking at the pretty ladies, because he is quick find two blank, numbered passes on lanyards, and a ballpoint pen. "We just need you to fill out your name and stuff first. We'll get you guys picture IDs later on, and you'll have to bring these for that part. This is really just so nobody boots you out tonight in the interim."

"Got it," Joule tells Mikey, and quickly fills out the information. She fills out Cam's as well, marking his c/o Dahanukar Studios. She signs hers, and gives him his to sign. "and now that's out of the way, you'll want to stand back so I can get to work. Is the match starting soon, or do I have time to get some locker room and crowd shots?"

Cam blinks as the woman brushes past, turning to stare after her a few moments with slightly wide eyes. Until she's out of view, he's watching her, though he blinks and looks back to Joule as his pass is presented, and he signs it quickly, attention back on the moment again.

"We're still settling the crowd in, sooo-" Mikey glances at his watch. "-You've got around a half-hour before stuff starts, if you want to look around." Though, half an hour here might go very fast. "Don't go in the dressing rooms unless asked, and keep away from the techs, or you'll get run over. That's about the only advice I have. Now, I gotta go- the setup locker room for matches is directly at the end of the hall." With that, Mikey is gone in about ten seconds. Whoosh! There's a small breeze.

Joule nods to everything Mikey says, glances as he describes. She's a little sulky, once he's gone, about being barred from the locker rooms, but she makes the most of it. "Okay, tiger, let's make some magic," she tells Cam. She heads for the end of the hall at a quick clip, doing her best to look like she knows her way around. It works; some folk are already cutting a swath for her through the crowd.

Cam grins a bit again and nods quickly, following along after Joule. Which, really, means just trying to keep close enough the crowd doesn't close again between her and him. After a moment he asks, "Need me to do anything?"

The windowless door at the end of the hall opens into a long, thinly carpeted room with benches along the walls; a set of double doors at the far end is labeled 'Stage Entrance'. There are a few wrestlers in there now, with their little posses of 'sidekicks' and pre-arena aides. The in-character begins here, and while some are already there, some are still relatively themselves.

Cam will recognize one of them; Rochelle is there, in costume, and chatting with one of the aides. As for the costume, it is obviously amazon-esque, with studded bracers and pads, grecian-tied boots, and a big, almost menacing belt between the spandex shorts and backless halter top. Her usually uncontrollable brown hair is tied staunchly into a single braid, though also with some pale gold ribbon in the mix. She's quite colorful in terms of dark gold, copper, and leather brown.

"Mostly you'll hand me cameras, filters, flashes, memory sticks, and lights. If you see anything particularly unusual that you think would make a really good shot, you're welcome to speak up, too. In fact, there's a little disposable in the front pocket of that bag you're carrying, if you're of a mind to try your own hand." Joule must have remembered their informal "career day" conversation in the Park some days ago. She takes a moment to size up the crowd, then decides on a quick bit of composition with the cheap digicam she carries in her pocket. She scrolls through them critically, before pulling a more sophisticated camera out of her bag. "Hm. Look at that." Rochelle's color scheme seems to vary from the red and the purple and the blue, so it's her Joule frames first in a serious shot, tilting down onto one knee to emphasize the woman's height, and how even tall people are dwarfed by her.

Cam nods and smiles, "Ok." At the mention of the disposable camera, though, he blinks and quickly digs it out, grinning, "Thanks." He doesn't take any yet, though, but as Joule focuses on Rochelle he blinks, "Hey that's…. um… can't remember her name. She-hulk lady. She bought some comics at the Lair, and she's a friend of Mr. Jones."
Rochelle has made a habit of not looking at photographers unless they tell her to; no use spoiling a good shot by being too curious. Instead, she finishes a few words with the aide when the woman turns to go. The other wrestlers in the setup room seem to be of their own themes; one is clean-cut, and a very American Red, White, and Blue. The other one has got bright purple hair, and a heap of tattoos. In the door comes a man with a similar color scheme to Rochelle's, though he is a bit taller and more statue-esque than the more brutish men; on his head is a red-plumed spartan helmet, and on his shoulders a fitted red shortcape. He seems preoccupied with a short, skinny man in a headset.

"Is she now?" Joule raises a brow, and her mouth curls up in a matching smile. That'll make for interesting conversation on their next date, for certain. "Cool." She muscles her slim form through the crowd, ducking and dodging with the practiced ease of a waitress moving through with a full tray. "Oi!" she pitches her voice to pierce the crowd noise. "Helmet! Over here with the Amazon-type, willya? Need you for a few shots." She's already snapping away even as she shouts the — well, she's phrased it as a question, but it's really a demand. The camera motor whirrs away rapidly, and the flash only fires off every so often, as Joule switches settings, strobing between normal light and assisted. "Cam, the white umbrella thing, hm?"

Cam nods quickly and says, "Yeah." He then jumps slightly at the shout, though grins after, a little sheepish. At the request, he digs through the bag a moment until he finds what Joule asked for, passing it to her.

Only one guy with a helmet! He looks surprised for a moment, but he has since learned to cooperate with Lydia's 'people' or risk something new entirely. The man weaves his way over; meanwhile, Rochelle has turned her eyes to find the source of those shutter noises. Her arms find natural poses when she rests her hands on her hips.

"Cam? Well- you're the very last person I expected to see." Not that she did expect it. Regardless, seeing someone she knows puts a smile on Rochelle's face. It grows when the Spartan man claps her on the shoulder and lowers his head to speak in her ear.

"Oh, very good." The pair of them are good together, not just in costume, but in height balance and form. Snap snap whirr. Snap snap whirr. Joule changes cameras, using one with real film. The flash has a softness filter on it, so these will come out almost romantic in lighting. She drops back to the original camera, and circles the pair like a shark, climbing up on chairs, balancing precariously, then hopping off to crouch below them. "Couple practice moves, if you're up to it," she directs. She unfolds the umbrella thing, and gestures to Cam where she'd like him to stand with it once she has it standing at its full height.

Cam grins back to Rochelle and says, "Hi! Yeah, Joule asked me to help with stuff." Then he moves to where Joule indicates, taking hold of the 'umbrella thing' to hold it in place.

Rochelle mouths the name in silence, taking it to mean this new photographer seemingly everywhere all at once. Rochelle follows Joule with her eyes, the man answering when she asks about moves. "We can't give you much in the setup room here, but if there's any poses-" He's interuppted when that skinny man descends and literally yoinks the cape from his shoulders. "We're going back to Heracles again, man. There goes the helmet too. "

Rochelle mouths the name in silence, taking it to mean this new photographer seemingly everywhere all at once. Rochelle follows Joule with her eyes, the man answering when she asks about moves. "We can't give you much in the setup room here, but if there's any poses-" He's interuppted when that skinny man descends and literally yoinks the cape from his shoulders. "We're going back to Heracles again, man." There goes the helmet too. "Again? Damn." At least it takes the man all of two seconds and a couple accessory additions to go from a Spartan to a grecian-bearded demi-god. When that's done, he makes a short explanation over Rochelle's chuckling. "Took them all week to decide, then they just changed me back again. Why did they bother?" Rhetorical.

Joule glances up, but dismisses the idea of taking the skinny man's photo. She does, however, take a photo of the cape flying off. The Helmet guy picks up on the motion of her lens, and takes a pose like he's throwing the cape off. "Perfect!" Joule growls, then calls to Rochelle. "Whatever you're used to. I'll work off what you guys do." She keeps snapping away even through the costume change. What's not usable can be deleted later.

Cam comments to Rochelle randomly, "I tried She-Hulk, like ya said, it was pretty cool." Then though he quiets again as the man tries to explain to Joule, though the sudden costume change, and the man's reaction, gets a small laugh from the boy.

Cam gets another smile from Rochelle, and a nod. In the next few seconds, she clears her throat and proceeds to punch the man beside her in the arm. "This means I get to kick your ass, you coward." The woman growls, apparently preparation for in-character. From the camera's point of view, Hippolyta wastes no time in grabbing Heracles by the back of the neck and shoving him down into a rough headlock. Ruh-roh.

"EXCELLENT!" Joule has clambered up the wall partway to get an odd angle for the shot. She gets the punch, the headlock, and the fact that Hippolyta has gotten Heracles down on one knee. She's smiling, amused, and enjoying herself. She calls to Cam. "Okay, move the reflector" — that must be the proper name of the 'umbrella thing' around this way. She gestures for him so he'll know what direction she means. She's all absorbed in the work at the moment, so Rochelle's conversation is lost on her. She's in the Zone.

For a moment, there's a flash of worry on Cam's face at this sudden 'attack'. It's just a moment, though, before what's happening sinks in, and he grins again. At Joule's instruction, he moves the reflector, and asks, "Here?" Then he's looking back to watch the show.

On one knee, the man was certainly caught off guard by the similarly sized woman grabbing him, but not to surprised that she did. he reaches an elbow and forearm up past her chest to push her face away with the palm of his hand. Rochelle's arms simply stretch straighter together like a vice, one hand on the other wrist and neck tilted back with that big hand in her face and the elbow pushing on her collarbone. This is playtime for them. Really. Even though the both of them are like monsters all by themselves.

Joule holds her position, and takes a number of shots, focusing the lens. She gets a couple closeups, and a couple well framed images. "Cam! In the bag, there's a white background cloth. Let me have that, hmm?" She hops down, and scopes for a place to hang it. Spotting it, she clears a path, grabbing a polo shirt by the elbow. "You're gonna help me set this up. C'mon, don't dawdle."

Cam grins as he watches the 'fight', holding the reflector. He does glance around a little, checking for the reactions of others nearby, but most of his attention is on the pair until Joule asks for the cloth. Digging into the bag he finds it quickly and steps over to hand it up to her, still folded.

Polo shirts are basically there to do bidding, and he doesn't argue, just helps Joule set up the sheet. For now, the two wrestlers seem to have stopped, both of them chuckling like fools and waiting for Joule to quickly string up what she can. The others in the room with them have just been watching, the man with the short, bright purple hair moreso. Oh look! It's the Cannoli Viking, coming into the setup room looking like he just stepped out of some kind of heavy metal music video.

"Hey! God of Thunder!" Joule shouts and points at the Cannoli Viking. "Give us your best pose! RAWR!" she growls, to encourage him, while pointing him at the reflective backdrop she's set up. The blank field will make for good photoshopping later, so she can put logos and effects in. "Then you, Purple!" She waves at Rochelle and her Heracles. "Thanks. I'll need you against the backdrop in a moment."

Cam steps back by the reflector in case Joule needs him to adjust it again. (Or to make sure nobody walks off with it, if nothing else.) There he just waits, watching Joule work and doing what he can to help until the match.

With the special crowd out filling the space around the ring, that does leave quite a lot of space on the upper seats, but by no means is there a lack of spectators. One can only imagine the numbers when the arena has a full house and a normal set of matches. Some charity is going to be very happy.

The first match serves as introductions of new faces; the American guy, Sam "The Yankee" Addams, and the purple-haired man, Jackknife. The second match brought in Magnus Wolner, the seven foot viking. He ends up being a new Heel for one of the old League roster. The third match has been billed as "a rivalry of mythological proportions". As the bearded, brunette Heracles enters, there is quite the fanfare; he's Hercules, in Roman terms, and it must be the consensus that if you don't root for Hercules, you're a bummer. When the name Hippolyta hits the air, there's perhaps a split second of hesitation before the words "Queen of the Amazons" tosses up that crowd again. One of those wildly flapping paper signs even comes loose from its moorings in the crowd and covers half a row below. These fans adore novelty, and a woman among men is a fan-favorite. Who knows how much it'll rile when she fights the rest of the women. Rochelle's reception as she saunters down the entryway is warm, flaring when she does strike a double-bicep pose once she enters the ring.

Joule had the chance to sort out the reflector and the backdrop. But now she's in the upper levels, and she's snapping the pics from above. Now that the match has started, she glances at Cam. "So — enjoying yourself?" she asks. "Or am I working your to the bone?"

Cam has been following Joule around still, though as the introductions start he watches with interest. He looks back up to Joule's question, and grins, nodding emphatically, "Yeah, this is amazing!" Though he then asks, "How come there's such a small crowd?'

Jackknife had won the first match, and Wolner the second, and much of the crowd is torn on who to fight for when this neutral pairing rolls around. The villains are winning! But who here is the villain? Neither one. After a few moments of the usual posturing and circling, the match below starts with a bang.

Heracles moves first, a step swifter than Hippolyta, but she has footing on her side when she moves forward. BAM! Her forearm meets his neck, and the man goes leg-up before hitting the mat below and rolling as soon as he does so. A lifted boot from the amazon hits the now empty piece of mat with a loud smack. Rochelle moves after him again, this time with a rising fist when he rolls to his feet to stand again. It glances off of his ribcage, and he returns with a similarly thrown punch at her head; both of the woman's vicelike hands latch onto his arm, pulling him bodily away from the edge of the ring and across the mat to the other side. In an almost classic manuever, he rebounds off of them towards Rochelle again; instead of keeping upright, she crouches and springs for his waist. And thus, up he goes, slung forcefully over her shoulder in a pick-up.

Joule paused between matches to get her and Cam a bite to eat. She took a few pictures of each match before this, and having finished her hot dog, has resumed taking photos. "Exhibition is all," Joule explains to Cam. "When they have real matches, the whole arena will be packed. Prolly need Madison Square Garden at that point."

Cam ate quite hungrily during those breaks. At the explanation he nods, and asks, "Will you be coming back for those? Or just doing this one?" When the match between 'Hippolyta' and 'Hercules' start, his attention is all on the ring, letting out a cheer as she picks him up.

What the woman does next is wrap her arms around Herc's legs, pivot counter clockwise, and hoist him up for a breath before swinging him down by his legs into the mat. You know the cartoons where someone gets grabbed by the ankles and hammered to either side? Sort of like that. Just as Hippolyta descends on him again, Herc springs his legs up in a stomach curl, grabbing his rival's head between his knees and pulling her down onto the mat beside him. Grunting, sweating, and the rough, hard smack of muscle on muscle continues like this for some considerable stunts. It's a demonstration and a draw so much to the point that soon, both athletes are grappling in the classic push, shoulder to shoulder, hands scrabbling for purchase on waists and torsos.

Joule is so astonished by the move she almost forgets to take a few shots of that. Fortunately, she has a video cam running on a tripod by this point, the better to slap videos together for YouTube, if need be. "I had no idea this sport was so — crazy!"

Cam cheers again as Herc is slammed down, though he quiets as he starts to take back the initiative, though still grinning. He looks back up to Joule and asks, "You never watched wrestling before?"

Rochelle has at least one fan, it sounds like. Below, in the ring, the two have taken on trying to lift the other by the belts like sumo; luckily for Rochelle, she still has weight over him, and she also manages to grip him first. And he goes up, up, up- and back down like a rocket as she pushes him over her shoulder and falls back onto him. They both hit the mat with one of the loudest noises yet.

It looked like it hurt. It probably did, judging by the sluggish reaction from Herc when Hippolyta rises swaggering to her feet, wiping sweat from her bangs with the back of a hand while she circles around him. Just as he seems about to get back into action, her leg meets his gut, and he not only rolls, but he almost looks like he is punted out between the ropes, where he hits the floor below. He doesn't get up from that one, lying on his back with heaving breaths in his barreled chest.

The ref counts down. "…three! TWO! ONE!" and Hippolyta is declared the winner, to the thunderous approving roar of the crowd. Joule dashes madly down the aisle to get down close to the ring again to snap shots of the victorious amazon, and then makes her way back up, taking shots of the wildly applauding crowd. "No," she answers Cam, out of breath and only remembering his question belatedly. "Never."

Cam, watching the fight as he is, cheers once again as Herc is taken out. Of course, by then he looks up to find Joule gone. By the time he sees where she's run, she's coming back, so he just waits. At her belated answer he grins, "Fun, isn't it?"

Victory means arms hitting the air or out to the sides in menacing curls, and bellowing yells at the top of her lungs. Some of her braid has plastered to the sweat on her neck, and the exertion itself serves in showing off the scars on her arms and bare, broad back. They are not scars from this field alone, so some of them up close and personal are jagged and potentially curious as to source. It's no wonder Rochelle took the persona she did; she looks the very part, battle-scarred and monstrous enough to take out a man labeled 'Hercules'. And the crowd eats it right up. Perhaps out of her peripheral vision does Rochelle spot Joule to-and-fro, and when she assumes the new face is on her, she puts even more kayfabe into those victory laps.

"Yeah, it sort of is," Joule chuckles. "I'll have to do a little research so I can work the photos properly for Lydia." She stretches. "This has been an exhausting session." All the climbing and jumping and yelling. "I'm gonna need a long hot bath tonight, I think."

Cam looks up to Joule and asks, "Why a bath? Showers are over quicker. Don't think I've had a bath since I was ten." He watches the victory celebration, clapping for Rochelle with a big grin.

As the announcers come back alive to tell the crowd about the actual matches and events coming up in the new season, Rochelle makes her way off of the ring and out of the arena with a crazed grin and more victorious bellowing. There's an entire winter of this coming up, folks. More giant people pounding the living shit out of each other, all to melodramatic scripts and storylines! That latter fact is sort of trippy, isn't it?

Once 'Hippolyta' is out of sight and backstage, the man Hercules is already back there to meet her with a high-fived grasp of the hand. Good game, beeyotches.

"I'm a girl," Joule tells Cam with a grin. "It's a girl thing to take long baths to relax." She checks some of the photos, frowning over the scars on Rochelle's arms and back. "Hm. Little airbrush maybe, on some, see how she wants 'em…" she's started to think out loud. She looks up as the motion of the crowd begins to get her attention. "Looks like we're done, champ. You wanna head back stage one more time before we get outta here?"

Cam blinks, and then says, "Oh." As if he doesn't really understand, but he doesn't want to admit it. He shrugs then and grins then at the last question, nodding quickly, "Sure!"

Backstage is just as alive after the matches as it was before, though there is that hot atmosphere that usually comes with any sport's locker room, mixed with the feeling of success one might feel on backstage after Broadway. It was a damn good night, and everyone seems to know it. Already having dropped the belt and bracers, Rochelle feels like she's actually breathing now that everything is over this round. She's venturing down the halls apparently in search of something(or in this case, maybe someone), a dampened towel slung around her neck all the while.

Joule has packed away all her gear and her extra cameras, and now is just flipping a memory stick between her fingers. "You go say congrats to Hippolyta, while I give these to the boss, hm?" she suggests to Cam.
Cam helps with packing up, of course. But once it's done he nods quickly, grinning, "Ok!" He turns to make his way through the halls, until he spots Rochelle. Grinning he runs up, "That was awesome!"

Rochelle laughs a still-excited laugh, smile crooked and eyes bright. She holds up a palm to the side, half expecting him to meet it with a low-five. "Damn straight it was. I thought I was gonna get it a few times, y'know- but I showed him what-for. Don't it make you wish you were an Amazon?" That is an obviously teasing statement, and she even chortles through the words. Though if there are any little boys after this mimicking her, she's not going to take any blame for that. Awesome is as awesome does.

Joule lets Lydia have some of the shots she chose as a proof of what she too kthis evening, and promises she'll email a few more inside of 48 hours. Then she goes to collect Cam, pausing to politely congratulate Rochelle. "You're hard, mate," she tells the immense woman.

Cam does indeed meet Rochelle's palm in a low-five, grinning still. "It was amazing! Glad ya won." Then he shakes his head to the question, though laughs a little, "Not *that*. But wish I was stronger." He looks up to Joule as she shows up, and then back up to Rochelle.

"Tell you what- if you're really interested in that? Maybe sometime I'll lecture you on the importance of making the most of puberty." Rochelle is still laughing a bit, but the offer is a serious one. "Or, you could pay attention in phys-ed. Either one." She gives him a wink just as Joule appears, and a smile is given to the photographer as Rochelle stands straight again and perches both fists on her hips. "'Ppreciate the compliment. I do my best."

"Got some great shots tonight," Joule informs Rochelle, shifting her gear bag, then extending a hand to shake. "You're gonna get some great promo out of this." She glances down at Cam. "Gettin' late, though, yeah? We oughta get you home, hmm?"

Cam blinks at the offer. He looks a little confused… though whether at Rochelle's offer or what gym class would have to teach him to be strong isn't clear. He just says, "Um… ok, sure." He looks up to Joule then and nods, "Ok." He looks back to Rochelle and grins, "Glad I got to see, you were awesome. See ya later, guess."

Rochelle makes a precautionary wipe of her palm over the towel on her shoulder before accepting the offered handshake. "That's what I'm hopin'. Thanks for your time." All smiles, despite the fact she's probably tired as hell. "I'll see ya later, Cam, and you keep comin'to matches, y'hear?" Hell, he's got a pass, as long as he comes with Joule.

"Oh, we'll be back," Joule assures Rochelle, with a wave. "I'm hopin' to become the League's photographer. Official, like." She gives the other woman a nod, jaw jutting out. Natural reaction to a woman that intimidating, nothing Rochelle's done. Joule just doesn't do intimidated well, that's all.

Cam nods emphatically to Rochelle, grinning, "Yeah, for sure!" He waves then, turning to follow Joule assuming the woman starts to lead him out.

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