Oh, come on. [ embry flashes his best smile, the winning one that makes him look boyish and sincere. he knows he's a good actor, because people actually believe he's made up of more than dissolute lies. embry cycles through men and women in a meaningless merry-go-round, but ash had cut through to the heart of him, which is why he'd wrecked him so badly. he won't make that mistake again. ] You're handsome and successful. You run this whole lot. What's not to be proud of?
[ he slides off the desk, accidentally knocking a pen to the floor, which he swoops down to recover, making sure hawk gets a view of his ass in his fitted costume. maybe not so accidental, but no one has to know that. ]
Well, there's the minor security breach. That's not your finest moment. [ he can't allow hawk to think he's going too easy on him. he leans over the desk to replace the pen where it won't roll away, then goes to the door, walking with hawk back to his trailer. he tries to look natural, but being escorted across the lot by hawkins fuller after an incident is anything but fucking natural, and everyone they pass knows it.
he lets hawk reach the door first, coming up smoothly behind him, his easy expression replaced by a line of worry between his brows, his wide blue eyes clouded with something distant. his mouth tightens. ]
It's bad. [ he catches a whiff of hawk's cologne, the same scent that clings to the bloody cloth stuffed into his pocket, as he balances on the narrow step. ] I panicked.
[ a tidbit of honesty sprinkled into his act. embry might be the wealthy son of a starlet, but his bad decisions began early at school, where he learned how to fight, and only got better as he got older. he's not great by any means — most boys are bigger and more muscled than him — but what he lacks in heft he makes up for in sheer recklessness.
when hawk opens the door they both survey a goddamn mess — a chair broken, the table overturned, a cascade of papers on the floor. his coffee cup is in pieces, brown liquid staining a script. a stack of books lies scattered. his throat tightens at the state of the bed — the sheets tangled and trailing across the floor, a clear start of where the fight began. he'd left that part out, and doesn't want to talk about it now.
he strides inside, opening the tiny closet and reaching up to the top shelf for a little gift box, which he deposits into hawk's hands. ]
It's got diamonds and pearls. Protect it with your life. [ he smiles again, then turns back to the closet, pulling out a navy sweater and pair of worn jeans that just happened to cost nine-hundred dollars once upon a time. ] Hey, if we're not filming today, I'm gonna get out of these clothes.
[ he's already unbuckling his trousers, letting them hang low on his lean hips, but then halfway through trying to peel himself out of the vest atop his shirt, he realizes they have it pinned to him from the inside. sheepishly, he returns to hawk. ]
no subject
[ he slides off the desk, accidentally knocking a pen to the floor, which he swoops down to recover, making sure hawk gets a view of his ass in his fitted costume. maybe not so accidental, but no one has to know that. ]
Well, there's the minor security breach. That's not your finest moment. [ he can't allow hawk to think he's going too easy on him. he leans over the desk to replace the pen where it won't roll away, then goes to the door, walking with hawk back to his trailer. he tries to look natural, but being escorted across the lot by hawkins fuller after an incident is anything but fucking natural, and everyone they pass knows it.
he lets hawk reach the door first, coming up smoothly behind him, his easy expression replaced by a line of worry between his brows, his wide blue eyes clouded with something distant. his mouth tightens. ]
It's bad. [ he catches a whiff of hawk's cologne, the same scent that clings to the bloody cloth stuffed into his pocket, as he balances on the narrow step. ] I panicked.
[ a tidbit of honesty sprinkled into his act. embry might be the wealthy son of a starlet, but his bad decisions began early at school, where he learned how to fight, and only got better as he got older. he's not great by any means — most boys are bigger and more muscled than him — but what he lacks in heft he makes up for in sheer recklessness.
when hawk opens the door they both survey a goddamn mess — a chair broken, the table overturned, a cascade of papers on the floor. his coffee cup is in pieces, brown liquid staining a script. a stack of books lies scattered. his throat tightens at the state of the bed — the sheets tangled and trailing across the floor, a clear start of where the fight began. he'd left that part out, and doesn't want to talk about it now.
he strides inside, opening the tiny closet and reaching up to the top shelf for a little gift box, which he deposits into hawk's hands. ]
It's got diamonds and pearls. Protect it with your life. [ he smiles again, then turns back to the closet, pulling out a navy sweater and pair of worn jeans that just happened to cost nine-hundred dollars once upon a time. ] Hey, if we're not filming today, I'm gonna get out of these clothes.
[ he's already unbuckling his trousers, letting them hang low on his lean hips, but then halfway through trying to peel himself out of the vest atop his shirt, he realizes they have it pinned to him from the inside. sheepishly, he returns to hawk. ]
Can you help me?