[believe it or not - it is supposed to be a good thing, not a punishment. and even if embry doesn't get a choice, it should sink in that being that close to what he's deemed the actual boss on set? it means something. high respect, for one thing. concern for his safety, especially. and because he's an actor and hawk hasn't learned all his nuances yet, he's deceived by the casual shrug and embry actually agreeing with him instead of pitching a fit or digging his heels in like he imagines a teenager being told not to date the high school bad boy might. if anything, he's finding it hard to see where this whole "difficult on set" label came from in the first place - but he supposes it's possible vivienne moore set him straight, or maybe he's trying to turn himself around, or - as is it can be in many cases (never on his own sets, of course) - it's the reputation smear of some schmuck who wanted a personal fantasy in the form of fucking for a part and didn't get it.
of course he's heard rumors. everyone has. but embry's been clean as a whistle thus far, and hawk is not in the business of judging a book by its cover or taking anything more than with a grain of salt until proven otherwise.
so he trusts embry is alright with this arrangement. that he's telling the truth about his simple request. watches the elegant line of his body bend at the waist to carefully sit himself down on the edge of hawk's desk, a hair's breadth away from his oxfords. bold, sure, but he'll let it slide for now. he makes a mighty fine desk ornament, though he's not about to say as much out loud.]
My parents were fairly disappointed I didn't turn out religious.
[hawk offers a teasing smirk, lips pulled up enigmatically and eyes twinkling with the private self-deprecation of the half-truth, pleased to see it made embry smile. but the wince - that doesn't go unnoticed.]
I'm going to have to insist on the medic. It'll be over before you know it - but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Besides, what kind of show would I be running if I didn't take care of my people?
[which embry is now. hawk sucks in another breath, exhaling towards the ceiling.]
Sure. I'll walk you there right after this.
[there's a pause, knowing he could leave it at that, but - ]
What do you get a gift for a woman like Vivienne Moore?
[said with the tone of someone who would imagine she already has everything - the clothes, the jewels, the best reservations in town.]
no subject
of course he's heard rumors. everyone has. but embry's been clean as a whistle thus far, and hawk is not in the business of judging a book by its cover or taking anything more than with a grain of salt until proven otherwise.
so he trusts embry is alright with this arrangement. that he's telling the truth about his simple request. watches the elegant line of his body bend at the waist to carefully sit himself down on the edge of hawk's desk, a hair's breadth away from his oxfords. bold, sure, but he'll let it slide for now. he makes a mighty fine desk ornament, though he's not about to say as much out loud.]
My parents were fairly disappointed I didn't turn out religious.
[hawk offers a teasing smirk, lips pulled up enigmatically and eyes twinkling with the private self-deprecation of the half-truth, pleased to see it made embry smile. but the wince - that doesn't go unnoticed.]
I'm going to have to insist on the medic. It'll be over before you know it - but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Besides, what kind of show would I be running if I didn't take care of my people?
[which embry is now. hawk sucks in another breath, exhaling towards the ceiling.]
Sure. I'll walk you there right after this.
[there's a pause, knowing he could leave it at that, but - ]
What do you get a gift for a woman like Vivienne Moore?
[said with the tone of someone who would imagine she already has everything - the clothes, the jewels, the best reservations in town.]