I'd say make yourself at home, but I'm a little late on that front.
[how long have you been in here, he thinks to himself, followed by were you waiting for me? but neither of them are what he actually asks, instead deciding he can probably piece this together. maybe embry did fall for her, and now he's found out she's got her own secrets too, though he can't imagine the downright angelic face of greer's to be tarnished and cruel in turning anyone down. or maybe it's just the way of hollywood wearing on him the way it sometimes bores down heavy on hawk's shoulders. he might be the lot's golden boy, but it took blood sweat, and even some tears to get here. not all of them were his own, and there's a few things he hasn't been proud of - but hawk likes to think he has a decent moral code and mostly errs on the right side of the way things ought to be. there's a difference between casting couches and negotiating better and undercutting the competition - for instance.
speaking of couches: it hasn't passed his notice that the one over in the corner is looking a lot more used these days - and hawk's been too goddamn busy to be the one leaving extra indents and taking a few minutes to himself, so that just leaves one other person with an open door extended. it was the least he could do after something that traumatizing happened, and it was the whole reason for moving his trailer out this way in the first place. it makes hawk feel a little bit more reassured that embry does - or at least did, until greer came along - consider this something like a safe space. his mind doesn't immediately jump to the contracts he's got stuffed neatly in his desk, or the stacks of top secret scripts and notes and rewrites and finance reports behind lock and key. the snacks though - that had been on purpose. seemed rude not to have some kind of refreshment to offer to his number one guest, and since booze was off the table during working hours...
but it isn't now, and he doesn't find himself particularly cross at embry helping himself to either of the empty items sitting on his desk. hawk steps around to the bar cart, picking up another tumbler and snagging the already open bottle and pouring his own glass before tipping it into embry's and giving him a refill. seems awfully rude not to let him sit pretty and indulge in his chosen spot, so hawk steps back around the antique cherrywood and lets himself spill unceremoniously into one of the other seats with a hum, not used to the view from here.]
Greer's not on my payroll.
[not that he doesn't know things beyond contracts and box office numbers - but that's neither here nor there. he didn't know about the boyfriend, but it's hard not to wonder if it came up during an attempted pass. he pulls the bag of his dinner over, sifting through to grab a for and the container with his new york strip, potatoes, and green beans.]
That's real generous of you. But you know, kids are goddamn expensive. The stuff on screen isn't always what brings in the masses - it's the headlines. Of which you two are generating quite a lot.
[there's nothing judgmental about it in his tone, just observational. he shrugs before reaching for his cutlery and taking a bite of his meal.]
She's a nice girl. Are you disappointed about this turn of events, or to what do I owe the pleasure?
no subject
[how long have you been in here, he thinks to himself, followed by were you waiting for me? but neither of them are what he actually asks, instead deciding he can probably piece this together. maybe embry did fall for her, and now he's found out she's got her own secrets too, though he can't imagine the downright angelic face of greer's to be tarnished and cruel in turning anyone down. or maybe it's just the way of hollywood wearing on him the way it sometimes bores down heavy on hawk's shoulders. he might be the lot's golden boy, but it took blood sweat, and even some tears to get here. not all of them were his own, and there's a few things he hasn't been proud of - but hawk likes to think he has a decent moral code and mostly errs on the right side of the way things ought to be. there's a difference between casting couches and negotiating better and undercutting the competition - for instance.
speaking of couches: it hasn't passed his notice that the one over in the corner is looking a lot more used these days - and hawk's been too goddamn busy to be the one leaving extra indents and taking a few minutes to himself, so that just leaves one other person with an open door extended. it was the least he could do after something that traumatizing happened, and it was the whole reason for moving his trailer out this way in the first place. it makes hawk feel a little bit more reassured that embry does - or at least did, until greer came along - consider this something like a safe space. his mind doesn't immediately jump to the contracts he's got stuffed neatly in his desk, or the stacks of top secret scripts and notes and rewrites and finance reports behind lock and key. the snacks though - that had been on purpose. seemed rude not to have some kind of refreshment to offer to his number one guest, and since booze was off the table during working hours...
but it isn't now, and he doesn't find himself particularly cross at embry helping himself to either of the empty items sitting on his desk. hawk steps around to the bar cart, picking up another tumbler and snagging the already open bottle and pouring his own glass before tipping it into embry's and giving him a refill. seems awfully rude not to let him sit pretty and indulge in his chosen spot, so hawk steps back around the antique cherrywood and lets himself spill unceremoniously into one of the other seats with a hum, not used to the view from here.]
Greer's not on my payroll.
[not that he doesn't know things beyond contracts and box office numbers - but that's neither here nor there. he didn't know about the boyfriend, but it's hard not to wonder if it came up during an attempted pass. he pulls the bag of his dinner over, sifting through to grab a for and the container with his new york strip, potatoes, and green beans.]
That's real generous of you. But you know, kids are goddamn expensive. The stuff on screen isn't always what brings in the masses - it's the headlines. Of which you two are generating quite a lot.
[there's nothing judgmental about it in his tone, just observational. he shrugs before reaching for his cutlery and taking a bite of his meal.]
She's a nice girl. Are you disappointed about this turn of events, or to what do I owe the pleasure?