A long, prosperous career like hers is certainly something to strive for. "Mostly okay" leaves an awful lot of wiggle room.
[he shouldn't even bother opening the door to this, it's not like he should care that much, but part of hawk wouldn't mind knowing what fills up the rest of that space. "mostly okay" isn't a ringing endorsement. sometimes he wonders - for all the scandals, the dog and pony show, the circus of fans and the fair-weather faltering of mass appeal...do actors even enjoy it the longer it goes on? he can't blame the men and women that have ultimately faded from the spotlight into lives of mediocrity, even rarer still to work their way behind the camera instead. embry's got the kind of good looks and charm that could launch a thousand franchises, but is that really how he wants to spend the rest of his life?]
So what gets you all the way to "thrilled"? Gotta be more to life - and showbusiness - than "mostly okay". Not to sound like a philosophical prick, but humor me.
[it's not easy for hawk to watch the way embry's mouth falls open briefly, lips wrapping around the steak like it could be something else. humming pleased around it, poised between catlike and utterly tempting even as he doesn't think he's doing anything part of the usual routine. it'd work on hawk - if it was aimed that way. if embry wasn't his employee, just some nameless pretty face in a bar well outside hollywood where people hated the spotlight and wouldn't have a fucking clue who hawkins fuller is. his gaze tears away and back to his food as he cuts off another piece and gets back to focusing on his meal, not bothering to watch as he helps himself to more scotch. he's not really thinking anything on it - about to assure embry that he's not at all in cahoots with his mother and that this can be his own personal hideout -
when everything goes still, hawk tensing immediately at the implication of embry sitting by his feet, leaning against his knee in a way that makes him want to reach down and feed him some more with his fingers or brush fingers through the effortless waves of thick, shiny chestnut hair. it's the second time some compromising position has manifested itself while he's utterly alone with embry, and it should sound the alarms for him to abruptly get up and extricate himself before this becomes a real problem. is it a set-up? or - is he just really that genuine about appreciating hawk's presence?
christ.
there's no answer right away, but hawk opts to do none of the above, instead keeping very still even as he takes another sip of his drink and bite of his food to act as if nothing at all is amiss. like there's not a flood of warmth that's decidedly not related to the alcohol down his throat when embry says he likes being here more than he does having the perfect girlfriend at his side, real boyfriend aside.]
Yeah?
[it should worry him on some level - to read between the lines and consider maybe there's more to things that can't touch embry besides the realities of fickle fans and tabloids and how much money he can pull in to prove his worth. maybe it's not just about the usual pressures.]
Well, you're welcome in here any time. You make better company than most - and I don't say that lightly.
[there's a few bites of his meal left, but he finds himself no longer hungry and uncertain if he should offer them now. instead - he produces a cigarette from the box tucked in his breast pocket, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with practiced ease.]
But you should know - I do what I can to take care of my people. That means you. I made you promises to get you here, and I intend to keep them.
[keep you, is just on the tip of his tongue, carelessly.]
no subject
[he shouldn't even bother opening the door to this, it's not like he should care that much, but part of hawk wouldn't mind knowing what fills up the rest of that space. "mostly okay" isn't a ringing endorsement. sometimes he wonders - for all the scandals, the dog and pony show, the circus of fans and the fair-weather faltering of mass appeal...do actors even enjoy it the longer it goes on? he can't blame the men and women that have ultimately faded from the spotlight into lives of mediocrity, even rarer still to work their way behind the camera instead. embry's got the kind of good looks and charm that could launch a thousand franchises, but is that really how he wants to spend the rest of his life?]
So what gets you all the way to "thrilled"? Gotta be more to life - and showbusiness - than "mostly okay". Not to sound like a philosophical prick, but humor me.
[it's not easy for hawk to watch the way embry's mouth falls open briefly, lips wrapping around the steak like it could be something else. humming pleased around it, poised between catlike and utterly tempting even as he doesn't think he's doing anything part of the usual routine. it'd work on hawk - if it was aimed that way. if embry wasn't his employee, just some nameless pretty face in a bar well outside hollywood where people hated the spotlight and wouldn't have a fucking clue who hawkins fuller is. his gaze tears away and back to his food as he cuts off another piece and gets back to focusing on his meal, not bothering to watch as he helps himself to more scotch. he's not really thinking anything on it - about to assure embry that he's not at all in cahoots with his mother and that this can be his own personal hideout -
when everything goes still, hawk tensing immediately at the implication of embry sitting by his feet, leaning against his knee in a way that makes him want to reach down and feed him some more with his fingers or brush fingers through the effortless waves of thick, shiny chestnut hair. it's the second time some compromising position has manifested itself while he's utterly alone with embry, and it should sound the alarms for him to abruptly get up and extricate himself before this becomes a real problem. is it a set-up? or - is he just really that genuine about appreciating hawk's presence?
christ.
there's no answer right away, but hawk opts to do none of the above, instead keeping very still even as he takes another sip of his drink and bite of his food to act as if nothing at all is amiss. like there's not a flood of warmth that's decidedly not related to the alcohol down his throat when embry says he likes being here more than he does having the perfect girlfriend at his side, real boyfriend aside.]
Yeah?
[it should worry him on some level - to read between the lines and consider maybe there's more to things that can't touch embry besides the realities of fickle fans and tabloids and how much money he can pull in to prove his worth. maybe it's not just about the usual pressures.]
Well, you're welcome in here any time. You make better company than most - and I don't say that lightly.
[there's a few bites of his meal left, but he finds himself no longer hungry and uncertain if he should offer them now. instead - he produces a cigarette from the box tucked in his breast pocket, slipping it between his lips and lighting it with practiced ease.]
But you should know - I do what I can to take care of my people. That means you. I made you promises to get you here, and I intend to keep them.
[keep you, is just on the tip of his tongue, carelessly.]