There's no agreeing when it comes to Vivienne Moore. There's just doing. [ he scoffs, tossing back a lazy swallow before dangling his glass in the empty space between the couch and hawk's chair. ] But if I can have a career as long as hers, then I'm mostly okay with just doing.
[ he knows, intimately, how easy it is to fall out of favor with the masses, to be forgotten for the next pretty face. it's not as easy as just running to hawk and telling him he doesn't want to, but he likes the thought that it could be. that hawk could shield him from all the bad coming his way. sometimes he lies awake and wonders what might happen if he just told hawk what was happening, what was hanging over his head, but then the sun slowly creeps into the sky and he comes to his senses. he'd be let go so fast he wouldn't even have time to process it. no one wants that kind of scandal tainting their movie. it's not just a sex tape, after all.
it's a lot easier to perk up and stretch out for the offering of steak on the tip of hawk's fork. he forgets he's supposed to make everything a seduction, a sound of pure contentment rumbling from his throat as he licks his lips and swallows. ]
You don't have to tell. [ a rueful smile, then he's off the couch to go refill his glass. ] She keeps tabs on me. On everything. She's sort of like you. This is probably the only place on your lot that she can't see. But don't worry, she only cares about your business as long as it benefits me.
[ he returns with a replenished drink, but this time approaches the chair, lingering for a moment before sinking down to his knees on the expensive rug as if it's the most natural thing in the world to sit at hawk's feet. he leans his shoulder into the chair, resting his cheek lightly against hawk's knee. ]
I like hanging out with Greer. Mostly. [ when there aren't cameras in his face, when they aren't performing like dancing monkeys at restaurants and clubs and luxury shops. ] But I like being in here with you more. It's a break from the noise. You're calm. Like nothing ever touches you. Feels like nothing can touch me in here, either.
no subject
[ he knows, intimately, how easy it is to fall out of favor with the masses, to be forgotten for the next pretty face. it's not as easy as just running to hawk and telling him he doesn't want to, but he likes the thought that it could be. that hawk could shield him from all the bad coming his way. sometimes he lies awake and wonders what might happen if he just told hawk what was happening, what was hanging over his head, but then the sun slowly creeps into the sky and he comes to his senses. he'd be let go so fast he wouldn't even have time to process it. no one wants that kind of scandal tainting their movie. it's not just a sex tape, after all.
it's a lot easier to perk up and stretch out for the offering of steak on the tip of hawk's fork. he forgets he's supposed to make everything a seduction, a sound of pure contentment rumbling from his throat as he licks his lips and swallows. ]
You don't have to tell. [ a rueful smile, then he's off the couch to go refill his glass. ] She keeps tabs on me. On everything. She's sort of like you. This is probably the only place on your lot that she can't see. But don't worry, she only cares about your business as long as it benefits me.
[ he returns with a replenished drink, but this time approaches the chair, lingering for a moment before sinking down to his knees on the expensive rug as if it's the most natural thing in the world to sit at hawk's feet. he leans his shoulder into the chair, resting his cheek lightly against hawk's knee. ]
I like hanging out with Greer. Mostly. [ when there aren't cameras in his face, when they aren't performing like dancing monkeys at restaurants and clubs and luxury shops. ] But I like being in here with you more. It's a break from the noise. You're calm. Like nothing ever touches you. Feels like nothing can touch me in here, either.