Amanda Hamilton put the thumb and forefinger of her left hand to the bridge of her nose. Making it big in the wrestling business was, for the most part, a great thing: getting to do the job she loved on the telly for a fair bit of money was indeed a dream come true.
However, it did come with it's fair share of bollocks.
The most recent instance of bollockery was actually ongoing right now - the big brown vixen was sitting on a chair in the locker room, fresh from a match, being interviewed by the smallest and most timid intern she had ever seen.
The intern was a hamster; small, fuzzy and not a little rotund, the tips of his ears barely came up to Amanda's shoulder, and she had managed to deduct that he was new.
Mostly because he was currently vibrating out of existence on his chair.
He was nervous, and it showed.
The sweat was lashing off of him, making his chubby face shine and staining his shirt, darkening it with wet patches at his armpits and his back.
He was holding - or rather fumbling - a pen and notepad in his chubby fingers, and he was trying desperately to look anywhere but into the face of the fierce wrestler. Every time his little brown eyes happened to glance up at Amanda, he was greeted by the glare of her red eyes. He would take a squeaky inhale of breath, jump a little in his chair and go back to focusing on anything but her.
"I'm no' doing it.''
Despite his evident fear, the hamster remembered his reason for being there in the first place.
"B-b-but... I-I've been told by the b-b-bosses to get a d-design for a t-shi-''
''Listen,'' Amanda cut across him sharply, immediately cowing him into silence. She leaned forward, and he recoiled, clutching his notepad up to his face, as though afraid she would eat him. "I came here tae wrestle, no' tae sell clothes. I'm no a bloody supermodel.''
"But I w-was told not tuh-to come back without an answer!'' the hamster squeaked.
Amanda looked at him, almost feeling pity for the little rodent. He couldn't have been working here for more than a week, judging by his disposition - the more experienced members of staff knew how exactly how carefully to tread around her to avoid provoking her, but he hadn't had time to figure out such tactics. The likelihood was that he was a wrestling fan, who had dreams of working with wrestlers since he was a child, and another likelihood was that his higher-ups would probably fire him because of her.
The chocolate-coloured grappler heaved a massive sigh, and, before hamster-boy could even react, she had snatched the pen and pad out of his hand.
For about three seconds, Amanda drew on the paper, then threw the pad and pen back into the hamster's lap.
"Right, there ye go.''
The hamster held up the paper to his eyes, not quite comprehending what she done.
On his page was, ostensibly, a squiggle - one long, messy pen-line, drawn hastily and rapidly from side to side, creating a tornado-like picture. He himself had made many of the same marks in his notebook while in high school.
"Ye've got yer design, now gie that tae yer bosses tae whack on a shirt and tell them to shit off and leave me alone.''
And without another word, Amanda stood up from her seat and headed for the door, stopping only to collect the gym bag with her gear in, leaving the poor, hapless little hamster intern to wonder what the bosses would make of Amanda's response to their request.