I have no explanation for this. Wait, no, I do: whisky.
Obviously, I own nothing related to Anchorman nor Newsroom.
MacKenzie really wished she could have slammed the glass doors. She hadn't been expecting Will and Charlie to be in the former's office so early in the morning, but it seemed they hadn't even gone home. They claimed to have stopped drinking a few hours before, but you wouldn't think it to look at nor speak with them.
She stood outside his door, her jaw set and heeled toe tapping; today was going to be infuriating.
"Hey everyone! Come see how good I look!" Will's muffled voice announced from his office.
"Everyone stay where you are!" Mackenzie told the newsroom, her free hand flailing as she gestured to the confused staff. "Ignore him."
"What's with him?" Sloan asked, sidling over from Neal's desk.
Mac sighed, switching the file between her hands. "He got drunk with Charlie last night and they found Anchorman on TV."
"I love that movie!" she grinned, moving to pass her into Will's office, only to be swung back around.
"Don't you dare go in there; I need somebody with sense on my side."
"But I am Veronica Corningstone."
"Well, without the sleeping with Will part because euw. Well, not euw for you, but euw for me. Not that-"
"-Oh thank god."
"Why are you Veronica Cornerstone?"
"Corningstone. C'mon: female reporter in a male world? Worked her way up to co-presenter of prime-time and solo-presenting?"
"You did solo before you co-"
"And not to mention my absolutely breath-taking heiney. I mean, this thing's good. People want to eat BBQ sauce of it."
"I can't say that's been top of my list of things to do."
"Oh, you ask around. People want to be friends with it."
"I'm not going to do that."
Will and Charlie appeared behind MacKenzie, both with grins commonly found on young boys who had just seen their first bra. Mac rolled her eyes and spun on her heel.
"Mac, just to let you know the team pancake breakfast is tomorrow morning at nine, instead of eight."
"Will, I have no idea-"
"-it's from the film," Sloan whispered, eliciting another sigh.
"Girl!" Charlie called, excited that they may have another fan to quote with.
"Sir, excuse me, is that Sex Panther you're wearing?" Sloan asked with an over-interested look and amusement twinkling in her eyes. Mac's head snapped towards her – she just asked what to the News Division President? – before giving a frustrated groan.
His chest puffed out, "It is the smell of desire, my lady."
"God no, it smells like, like a used diaper filled with Indian food."
"Have you three finished?"
Will turned, "Oh, Charlie, before I let you go, are you still having your celebrity golf tournament?"
"Oh, no, no. Too many people died last year so we're not gonna."
"I can't handle much more of this…"
"Hey, I am good at three things, MacKenzie," Sloan held up three fingers, as the two boys looked on giggling. "Fighting, screwing and reading the news. I've already done one of those today, so what's the other one gonna be? Huh?"
"If the three of you don't grow up and sober up, the only thing any of you is going to be good at is breathing through a tube," MacKenzie warned, her patience thread-bare by this point. She waved a pointed finger at them again before turning on her heel and stalking back to her office.
Sloan held up her hands, Will and Charlie both high-fiving her on the way past.
Will and Charlie seemed to have sobered up by 8pm, but certainly not grown up. Though she didn't think he would screw up the broadcast, she pushed the through the door into the studio to check. She raked a hand through her messy ponytail, pushing the microphone stem away from her mouth.
Will turned to her, "How are you? You look awfully nice today. Maybe don't wear a-"
"Do not finish that sentence, William."
He bit back a grin with the rest of the quote, chuckling as he sipped from the coffee from the ACN mug.
"Are you going to be able to do this?"
She clenched her jaw; his child-like enthusiasm was really beginning to wear thin.
"Okay, well we're live in twenty."
"It's alright, my sweet chinchilla. I got this."
"I am going to physically hurt you later."
"I look forward to it."
She scowled at him as she left the room; Will was watching after her, chuckling again into his mug.
She gave him another warning at ten seconds until broadcast, looking up to the screens to find him staring down the camera with a cheesy shit-eating smirk. "Does anyone have a gun? A knife?" she asked the control room. "Anything that might inflict damage on me or, even better, him?"
"Don't act like you're not impressed," Will winked into the camera.
Herb laughed as he counted down from five, cueing the opening graphics and beginning the show; Will's face immediately and just-in-time switched from Ron Burgundy to Will McAvoy.
"Good evening, I'm Will McAvoy."
"I hate him."