It was different from a Santiago production. For starters, Damion felt like he could call Ingrid by her first name without making it weird. Secondly, he had his hands on the script, rereading it before his take, while she was… sympathizing? Was that the word? Felt unusual. He slowly lifted his eyes from the words to her hovering form, kind gaze on him while he looked back with a stricken sense of confusion.
“Yeah, okay.” Then after a belated second, tacked on, “thanks.” It wasn’t her fault that the goal here had been to crash and burn. He had made the smart move of throwing out as many points as he could for as many projects as he could. The chances were non-existent for him to win anything, and yet here he was as if God just wanted throw in that extra dash of suffering for good measure. He had barely glossed over the script when it was given to him, absorbing none of it, but then Ingrid had to be like this. Makes it hard on a guy to destroy something that clearly had someone on the team that cared. Again, thanks a lot, God. Good one.
So, there he was. Reading. Again. But for real this time. Trying to. Her question threw him off, cutting his reading down right after learning that his character’s father had died. He didn’t have any idea what she meant, and he may have been titled as actor, but his training had been in art design, not creating a good enough poker face to show that he wasn’t following. Good thing she elaborated. Well. Good was relative.
About that bad poker face… he frowned back, tried to correct it a little too late. “Something like that.” He counted five. Mom, dad, daughter, wife, and then friend. In that order. He took in a deep breath, leaned back, trying to create distance between them without being obvious about it. Still on the fence with all this. His hand reached behind his neck, rubbing at it, eyes darting off to the side, exit sign in bright red letters before finally struggling to return to her.
“Look,” he started off as earnestly as he could give, “you’re really going places with all this. Ten out of ten on the tear-jerker scale, but it’s not too late to trade me out. I’ll even help you find my replacement.” Make it sound good. It’s not her, it’s you type of vibe. “Yeah, you know who’d be good on this? Cal Remington. I know that guy’s not busy doing anything.”
“cal? he’s busy.” the name was plucked from people she’d spoken to recently. everyone in hollywood was her friend, but there were some people who she’d worked with just a little bit more. “he’s directing my script.” a little trade off, she’d written everything but the music for la la land and sent it away to someone who could put the finishing touches on it. and from there, she’d decided to let it be free, see where it went when she let other people get their hands on her work. and that left her with the time for this. “not that— no, he’s so great. don’t get me wrong. i just know he’s doing alright.”
distracted from the primary target for just a minute longer. she could feel the hesitation, and that was okay. it was a lot of emotion to ask in a small span of time, although she was hoping for something a little more subdued in the performance. that was okay, she could wait a little while. they had almost twenty minutes before they were considered behind. “i’m not doing it for me. my friend wrote this script. i just really want to show her what i can do.” she knew clem would be happy no matter what the outcome was, but she still wanted to try. dedication to the actors meant just as must as the crew. “besides, i don’t want a replacement. i think you can do it.”
she didn’t even know how to go about requesting such a thing, forever steering clear of anything that had to do with a contract negotiation. let alone having to step anywhere near the cancellation department. even now, she had little interest in knowing what went on there, who had taken the place of her brother. it seemed no one was apt to fill such a void in her life. “just think of your person, you don’t have to tell me. well i mean you can—” she wasn’t yet sure the boundaries that damion killgrave had put up. and she existed so long without any of her own, a spilling aura, and bleeding open heart for anyone who might pass by. it was hard to tell, she tried to be understanding. “do you really not want to work with us?”
