Siobhan

Don't underestimate the power of a woman's scorn.

[chloedmiller]

siobhanproductions​:

Siobhan inhales the complementary air that comes from dining al fresco. Her body barely shows how it’s taken in and held like a reset button that must be pressed sometimes. Through her nose, it’s released slowly but steadily before her voice returns to Chloe, an attempt towards clarity.

The answer she gives is a distilled sentence, boiled down from a multitude of thoughts and concerns that add more weight than desired. “You trust him.” She’s heard enough from her to know its magnitude, defending him without a second thought or wonder to an alternative narrative that wasn’t hand-written by the man himself. “That alone is enough of a danger to consider.”

“danger?” she feels her brow furrow at the word, something so much more serious than what she’d been anticipating. these conversations were always about her father, people giving her wide eyed stares and asking if she was okay— one of the housekeepers picking up a spilled bottle and giving her a sympathetic nod. it was always something, but it was never that someone was watching her movements and they were concerned with what she was doing. or was it just who she was doing it with.

“i only talk to him about business.” even if the boundaries around that were ill defined in her own mind and would not pass under siobhan’s scrutiny now. “it’s my research,” to some extent at least, to the extent that it felt good to say it, remind people what was important to her: the numbers, the data. none of this was her expertise. “so, i’m not sure what else there is to consider.”

[siobhanproductions]

"The door to danger is unlocked by trust." There's a solemn echo in her words underneath that even-toned voice. Chloe is intelligent, but more often than not intelligence doesn't lend itself to knowing the facts of how the world and its occupants are shaped. This is only a lesson that experience can bring, and this is where misfortune lies.

Siobhan's napkin is drawn over her lap while their meals arrive, speaking nothing else until their waiter resumes his duties elsewhere. Not one word that Chloe has uttered has gone unnoticed, even with the pause of silence following it testing its validity.

"Be sure to retain your ownership." Over your work; over yourself. "There is nothing you possess that should ever be taken from you."

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

there is no evidence to support the statements that she makes, just the current data points. she has not yet been deceived by axe, that counts for just as much as any other relationship she currently has. there is no exact calculation for the fail rate of interpersonal connection, she should have thought before she spoke. the concession is almost formulated, but siobhan continues, adds details to color her own position. 

“i don’t live in fire.” the only spark gained is her father, but there is no way that she’s going to expose such details over an informal meal. she is not at a therapist’s, better— she doesn’t even need one. “and you’re speaking like i should be watching for something serious.” untoward, immoral, verging on illegal. but there is no reasoning behind such a deviation from the baseline knowledge. “what’s different?”

Siobhan inhales the complementary air that comes from dining al fresco. Her body barely shows how it's taken in and held like a reset button that must be pressed sometimes. Through her nose, it's released slowly but steadily before her voice returns to Chloe, an attempt towards clarity.

The answer she gives is a distilled sentence, boiled down from a multitude of thoughts and concerns that add more weight than desired. "You trust him." She's heard enough from her to know its magnitude, defending him without a second thought or wonder to an alternative narrative that wasn't hand-written by the man himself. "That alone is enough of a danger to consider."

[siobhanproductions]

emmareevcs​:

her lower lip trembles, just slightly, just enough. the one flicker past a steel exterior. she might have considered herself master of many universes, but this emotion was unknown, unquantifiable. it had the possibility to destroy. “i don’t want that.” spoken in clear concise terms, removed from the allegedlies and the denials. honesty glimpsed in a phrase, shielded once more from those who might use it against her. it might have been understood, if she was in the presence of the person she thought then it was. she is not a person of elaborations, the point, however dangerous, can only be made once before it is moved past. “but you’re right.”

she shifts, posture straightens, embodies something less than she is, something more akin to what she should be. “you don’t know me.” it’s a shame really, she cannot think of one person she might say that about in open friendship, but she cannot think of those choices now, they filter into the problems that are unsolvable. she wavers, hesitates. she knows that this conversation has gone poorly, given away too little to assure that she has no motives, worse given up nothing at all. finally, she says her one daring thing, she expects the worst in repercussion. “i would have wanted a friend to fight for my best interest too.” 

A tremor in her lip reflects in Siobhan's steely gaze. It's a notice that makes itself known in the same manner as a surgeon lets the light glint off their scalpel moments before dissection. A gesture of weakness will have its day to be biopsied, to define whether or not it is truly what it seems or if it's more malevolent that requires immediate removal. In this moment, where the tests are preliminary and the status unknown, it garners nothing. Mere words can only do so much to add to its credibility, even in agreement.

"I don't," she returns the favor, though it is not for Emma's sake. "However, I know what you're capable of." The past is more telling than the present. Though the publication may hold her husband's name, her hands are not without similar stains of red. This is not a matter of being anti-cancellation; her stance has remained neutral all these years; this is a matter of acting with integrity, to know the consequences of actions taken, the lives that have fallen in exchange for viewership, mostly predicated on rumor instead of fact.

"You have yourself to rely on." These are the facts. They're chilled, but do not come from coldness. Friends can only do so much. She knows her own power is limited. These are also the facts, ones that have yet to thaw. "Mr. Remington will find no obligation in living by my advisement, Mrs. Reeves. He is bound by his own feelings. What will you do should those feelings lead him towards something you claim you don't want?"

[siobhanproductions]

claudiamcrshall​:

it did appear that way, the kind of white gauze fairytale dream that was reserved for the kind of girl that she had sworn up and down she couldn’t possibly be a part of. it was not only that it appeared that way, but it was in fact the truth of the matter wasn’t it. but for one so bent on reality, the black sand beach was a respite. “technically it is for both of us.” but she hasn’t taken stock, there are no teams here. she has the best man and maid of honor, damion standing by her side— “father rafael is from valencia.” mind lights upon the first exception to siobhan’s rule. “he came in for especially for the service.”

Religion has left a bad taste in Siobhan's mouth, but she holds no bias against a priest, even one that comes from Valencia. It surely earns him no favors, though. She takes a passing look at him. She knows from experience that there's not much to tell from a surface-level inspection, only what the person wants others to know. Black clothes and a white collar hold little room for personal character, and therefore little to discuss.

"The exception has been noted." It's said without harshness, only sterile acknowledgement. There is no argument to be found. She's moved on with the facts left behind. "Wesley mentioned to me Mr. Hearst and Ms. Bellamy coordinated the ceremony." He was a touch too late, beaten by another. "Strangely, Mr. Reeves was able to confirm as much."

[siobhanproductions]

claudiamcrshall​:

the girl in white tends to stand out at a wedding, more conversations offered up to her than she’d had in the past six months. her sets rotated around the same few people, her personal life had seemed to be even smaller. and yet here it was, a room full of people who were all there for them. she should count herself very lucky that siobhan sterling was one of them. she’s sure that she’s running out of luck by now. 

“who would operate it?” the closest thing to a joke that she thinks she’s ever been able to manage in siobhan’s presence. but also true, the lingering question of who would have been trusted to capture it right. memory will have to do. “this is more than enough, in terms of show.”

Siobhan has a catalogue of directors and cinematographers, all of which are a phone call away, but this is a thought spurned on by a joke from the bride. Like others before her, the humor falls flat to the ears of the producer, but at least it is not outright rejected like most. She has her attention, a less rigid one than usual, but just as clear. "It appears that way," she agrees, already having taken note of other guests, the range expansive for private individuals. "I assume the majority are in attendance to pay their respects to you." Not the groom.

[siobhanproductions]

She didn't celebrate the date, but she couldn't push it far enough out of her mind to let it completely slip either. There was no joy in a divorce. The joy was in its freedom, in the way it corrected a path that had started off on the wrong footing, not the reminder that it had been walked along in the first place. She's learned that there is more value in the future than the past, strictly reserved to visit, not to live in. Perhaps it's why she's chosen to wear the pair of earrings she does--the ones that were made from the ring she was given, melted down and repurposed. It's fitting for a wedding.

"It's refreshing to see a lack of cameras broadcasting every move."

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

“he wouldn’t do that.” although she can never be a hundred percent sure, something about the questions continuing to be leveled have her falling on the side of defense rather than rationality. it happens sometimes, though far more rarely these days. it is different for her to do so, finally step in with the hope that her own personal opinion holds comparable weight. it doesn’t.

“he’s only expressed interest in my work with the university.” keeping everything in potentially neat boxes, wiping up the edges where there might be spillage into other parts of her life. only is a strong word, but he certainly seemed to respect boundaries more than most. “and he’s willing to share his own.” maybe not everything at axed! but enough, and there were other facets of his life as well. she hadn’t known a thing about art history before he’d brought it to her attention. how many things were the same. “not everyone takes me seriously.”

"That's not an argument that can be proven." Her tone chills the glasses of water more than the ice cubes that float in them. It's Chloe who is speaking, but it is not her that garners Siobhan's distaste. She holds that for the man in question and all those that are cast from the same mold as him. She sits with poise, continues to have the same temperance as if this is a meeting of business rather than personal. She's not biased against Axel Reeves; she has referred to facts, not feelings.

There are murky waters when it comes to what he is willing to share, or in his case, barter with. She withholds her contempt, reserves it for a future date that will undoubtedly approach her soon. For now, she sees the young woman in front of her for who she is, and what she has felt all her life. There is something kindred in this detail. A broken home makes you vulnerable, makes you blind, makes you desperate, all so that you can escape. You don't. You make a new prison.

"Mr. Reeves might appear to be different," she starts, "but when all you know is fire, a hot stove looks safe."

[siobhanproductions]

emmareevcs​:

she’d hoped to be done, too much said already even given the relative privacy of the office. her purse almost resituated on her shoulder, goodbye cut off by mere seconds as siobhan gives her commentary on the situation. the shield that so often stays in place when she converses slips, she’s been struck off balance by the first true thing that’s been said between them. they were so insulated, completely separated from the world, to walk through the front door of his home was to skip into an alternate universe. she could think of no greater peace, no comparable sense of happiness. it hadn’t crossed her mind as a simple do or do not, only as the way to breath in the stifling los angeles air. 

her eyes blink slowly, turning over answers that she could use but doesn’t truly feel. should she be reasonable, she would know that siobhan was right. they were approaching danger, and yet she just nodded. the sentence had done its job. she was wounded and warned in turn. “silly things done by sensible people.” she says finally, turning around a quote that’d been attributed to her namesake as she was often reminded. “for what it’s worth, i agree with you.” a sigh escaped her lips, the sad wistfulness of a bird’s wings beating against a cage. “funny how that doesn’t change anything.”

She knows the reference. It doesn't conjure up memories of movie theaters and all the related accoutrements you'd find in one to enjoy what was playing on the screen. Before knowing the man the camera captured, she had research to do. There are enough reservations held to wonder if Emma did something similar with only motive differentiating them. She doesn't accuse in her gaze, but suspects, the patient stare of one searching for evidence to indict.

"I don't pretend to understand your position in every detail," she allows room. Emma Reeves is known in public fact, uncolored by personal detail. Carlisle would have her depicted in a vivid spectrum; Siobhan's copy of her is printed in monochromatic grays. She knows more than anyone that a woman is more than a wife, but a husband becomes a blot on an otherwise pristine silhouette. "The direction you take, however, is your choice." Not Axel's. Not Carlisle's. Not her own, no matter what is warned, threatened, or advised. "If you truly agree with me, you won’t choose the path that will lead to his destruction."

[siobhanproductions]

emmareevcs​:

she thinks of the niceties that built cal, the kindness in each gesture whether knowing or not. the gentleness that leaks from the way he might simply glance over something that didn’t even deserve his time. there is something to be said for the kindness of him. she is far from the one to say it, fenced off by her own design. only allowed to witness what is possible. she acknowledges nothing but the barest of nods. enough for both parties to know the words have been heard, nothing further. 

is it more dangerous to acknowledge the threat or to pretend it hasn’t already brightened the yellow flags that have been sent up. “i simply don’t see a potential need.” she says, though there is no decisiveness in her voice. she wishes it were the case, she thinks of the lifetimes in which it might have been true. “your intention is fully understood,” humorous if asked, trembling if held fast, “i’d hate to think of someone less competent.”

There is no reason to belittle. Another one sitting in her chair may act the part of bully or tormentor, attacking for the minor grievance that an answer has been delivered to her in such slim fashion. But she sees the nod for what it is. It is not carried through with such little respect that a verbal response is not garnered; it is the closest movement to appeasement that can be offered. Should there be anything more than that, becoming her tormentor will be no task at all for Siobhan to master.

"As would I," she answers her with finality, similar to a death knoll, tolling for thee. "We should be on one accord, now." And yet the gravity of the room has not lessened. There is an atmospheric weight that has bolted down every item in the office, a pull that centers from the eyes that have sharpened themselves on Emma's face. "Had you been less competent, Mrs. Reeves," she returns after a moment of silence, of false hope that their conversation had concluded, "I would have already expressed to you how I don’t agree with Mr. Remington's decision to pursue this."

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

“uncomfortable?” the word splutters out as though it’s never even been considered in tandem with the man they’re talking about. she feels uncomfortable about a great many things in her life, social interactions always nearing the top of the list. but none of that has ever been axe’s fault, if anything the opposite. he’s done what he can to surpass that, given her a social life outside of her father’s shadow. “no. that’s just— that’s not possible.”

she doesn’t sound convincing, but it’s not because of a disbelief in her own words. the only lingering note is the confusion of why she would need to be asked in the first place. if it wasn’t about prometheus, then it was a generally concern for her well-being that she couldn’t quite place. there was no need for caution or concern as far as she could see. “you know when most people want to talk, they’re concerned about myles, not me.”

"How is it not?" Where Chloe's voice rests on pillars of sand, Siobhan has bedrock on her side, something so steady that it has been calcifying for an undetermined amount of years. She is not harsh or judging, but she is firm. Experience is her foundation. She knows that what should be ethically impossible can be turned into reality faster than life should allow, and Axel Reeves is not a man who is qualified to be perched on the mound of morality. Neither is Myles Delaney.

"That reflects more so on those that interact with you versus your own value." She doesn't deny the statement outright. She knows it's true, but it should not lead to one man's acquittal. "What makes Mr. Reeves different?"

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

she’s not generally a malicious person, the insult meant more at a mutual exhaustion that they might have shared once, but it’s clearly been taken in some other more serious way. that she’s changed something from suspicion to fact with just a matter of a few words, the power that’s always contained within. there’s no will to correct it or take it back in the name of some jest, and even if there was the timing is off. she’s already being directed towards the conversation that clearly held more interest for siobhan if the advice was anything to go by.

“there is no conflict.” her own dismissal is slightly less calm, trying to fill in the blanks that have been left for her. over and over the solution seems to be that she is being told to stop spending time with axe, but there’s not enough to run the full calculation. who would be similar? who else bothered to sit at a bar with her for drinks, invite her into their own home. “i don’t talk about the cancellation department.” and she wouldn’t be caught dead on the axed! record, she was well trained. the insinuation of anything less wounds her more than makes her realize a possible gap in her defenses. “of course he would benefit, but not from me, i’m not a leak.”

Her loyalties do not lie with Prometheus Productions. She holds no position that coincides with asset protection. There is no reason that motivates her to see if Chloe would expose a company to those like Axel Reeves. She is only motivated to shelter the young woman herself from the same evils that threaten strongholds to fall to their knees. There will be either cooperation on her part or there will not be, but it will do nothing to change this resolution.

"Has there been anything that Mr. Reeves has asked of you that has made you feel uncomfortable?"

[siobhanproductions]

emmareevcs​:

the name need not be spoken aloud for her to understand who siobhan was talking about, but to hear it in the open air, even just as a last name breaks through any facade of calm. her husband has torn all the iron from her bones, leaving a weakness that she cannot hide under such direct focus. she is unsteady and wounded in turn. she wants to speak to defend, she knows it will only incriminate. 

“if there was a person—” the ground here must be tred carefully, there is no room for missteps with such stakes. she doesn’t dare to imagine what would happen if she lost him now, she refuses to upset someone that he might consider a friend. “i don’t think manipulate has ever been a part of their thoughts.” there wasn’t even a plan, it was as though she had been struck by lighting. like ice had cracked, unsticking her from her existence. the kind of instantaneous change that someone can’t prepare for. they only find that it happened when they’re stuck in the middle of the new reality. “he seems too nice, to be taken advantage of. i can’t think of a single name who would do it.”

“but as it stands publicly, i don’t know mr. remington at all really.” before this, she’d done little more than write his name in various articles. there was never a fully formed version of the man like the might talk about now. “a warning, is a little much.”

Nothing escapes her. There's a hawk-like attentiveness that follows Emma as she sits there, absorbs the words that are spoken to her, jostles with the uneven ground beneath her. Siobhan tallies up her responses in polite wait, mentally jots down where the fault lines are, eyes on someone who has become translucent to her.

"In your position, Mrs. Reeves," she starts, "this should come to you as no surprise at all to know that the nicer one is, the larger the target grows for someone of a certain immoral caliber to take advantage of." Carlisle has been coasting on good luck for years to not have it happen to him a second time already, to not be cancelled on the whims of another. She will not allow it to be tested further.

"What is publicly acknowledged is rarely the whole truth." There is a subtle change in the expression passed along, one that echoes what has already been stated, a reality that she should be well familiar with. There is no name like Axel Reeves that is breathed aloud between them, but his name still lingers heavily like a stench that refuses to leave. "Regarding what stands privately, in comparison, a warning may easily be converted into something more actionable should the need arise. Is this clearly understood?"

[siobhanproductions]

Basics

Full Name: SIOBHAN STERLING

Birthday: MAY TWENTIETH

Age: FORTY

Zodiac Sign: TAURUS

Religion: NONE

Birthplace: BETHLEHEM, PALESTINE

Current Residence: LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

Height: FIVE FEET + NINE INCHES 

Hair Color: DARK BROWN

Eye Color: DARK BROWN

Sexuality: BISEXUAL

Love/Romantic Preference: BIROMANTIC

Relationship Status: SINGLE / DIVORCED

Languages Known: ENGLISH, FRENCH, ARABIC (learning)

Details

Car: 2022 BMW i4 (gold)

Phone: iPhone 12 Pro Max  (pacific blue) + Samsung zFold 3 w/ pen

Music Genres: Absolutely no gospel, no folk, no country. Classical music (Tchaikovsky, Rachmaninov, Sibelius)

Wardrobe: Light neutrals/whites mixed with dark-toned colors (e.g. dark purple, dark emerald) solid colors, pantsuits, jumpsuits, businesswear, silk blouses, classic black pumps

Estimated Net Worth: 75,000,000

Ransom Value: No one would have the balls to kidnap her.

Bloodlines + Connections

WARREN IVES | ADOPTED FATHER | EVANGELICAL PREACHER | RAPIST

VANESSA IVES | ADOPTED MOTHER

MATTHEW HASTINGS | EX-HUSBAND | UNRELATED TO PROMETHEUS

CHRISTOPHER HASTINGS | EX-BROTHER-IN-LAW | CONTRACTED ACTOR

CARLISLE REMINGTON | DIRECTOR/CONTRACTED ACTOR | FRIEND

WESLEY FAIRCHILD | INTIMACY COORDINATOR | FRIEND

CLAUDIA MARSHALL | CINEMATOGRAPHER

CHLOE MILLER | RELATION BY SECOND-DEGREE MARRIAGE

FELIX HEARST | FELLOW PRODUCER

EMMA REEVES | A POTENTIAL PROBLEM

Levels

Drinking (1-10): TWO (moderate drinker)

Swearing: ZERO

Smoking status: TWO

Drugs: ZERO

Cooking proficiency: FIVE. (she doesn’t have time for it nor interest)

Intelligence: NINE

Emotional/Social Intelligence: EIGHT

Creativity: FIVE. (more analytical than anything)

Temper: TWO

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

“do we start with the hastings.” she sighed, she had no will to start listing off people who had broken a law that almost didn’t exist. there was no reason to pretend that it was one that had consequences. and besides, the list was too long for lunch, and involved more than a few people who didn’t mean anything bad by it in the slightest. who was she to paint a target on damion killgrave’s back over a glass of wine? her childhood has taught her many things, one of them is a certain rule about snitches.

she turns over the description that siobhan gives her in her mind, lingering on the descriptors and sticking to the moments where it doesn’t seem correct. she works in the cancellation department, but they never talk about that. she is young, but there’s nothing to be done. she’s younger than everyone, that is her curse. “i don’t have any power there. we just talk about my research, i’m still trying to get a grasp on all the psychology.”

The Hastings name trickles down her ears, drips into her veins, frosts her blood to a thickened paste. This is not out of the slightest hint of anger; her feelings are reserved only to her own mind, a reaction that comes instinctively from the past bubbling to the surface, her own experiences without Christopher and his brother intertwining. It's disgust, not anger. "I expected as much," she finally speaks on the matter, lips angled in a sharp downturn. Whether her comment is laid out only on her step-father's head or shared between him and her birth mother is not discussed.

"As a rule," she goes on, "I would question the motives of those who are in positions similar to Mr. Reeves'. From his perspective, where it is in his best interest to compile intelligence related to your department, do you see the potential for a conflict of interest that would cause him to be the beneficiary?"

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

siobhan is direct, but more than that she’s factually correct. the law did not bend for any person, it applied evenly across every person who found themselves residing in the united states. and still, some of them had a feeling of flexibility. that just because it should apply, did not mean it was enforced. “he’s not alone.” but she knew better than to try and throw other people under the bus, there was no need to try and save axel reeve’s  reputation herself, and especially not on this point.

“i don’t believe it to be even.” there were plenty of factors to be weighed, there were matters of age, position, of connections that were already made. people existed in these webs. she brought less power to the tale than axel reeves, if that’s what siobhan was preoccupied with, then she was correct in her assessment. but not every existed in modes of power, she was still trying to figure out the other adjectives that might be applied. “it’s mutual interest.” it wasn’t even fully out of her norm to get drinks with people a decade older than her. she’d held glasses of wine at hastings parties to little fanfare. “why are you worried?”

Her expression ices over at the response she receives. She is a woman of subtlety, concise, devoid of anything that is deemed unnecessary. The slightest changes to her face are magnified, speaking volumes while her voice remains unaffected. "That does nothing to mitigate his wrongdoing. I would also like to know the names of those who are taking a page from Mr. Reeves' handbook."

Siobhan's eyes have a razor-fine gaze that matches her mind. All that Chloe says is listened to and then inspected, held up under a light to mark all the faultlines that others before her have not checked for. "I'm expressing caution," she righted for her. "Have you wondered where his interest in a young woman who is half his age and in a position of power comes from?"

[siobhanproductions]

chloedmiller​:

“gaining?” the word catches her off-guard, stinging harsh against the life that she tried to envision for herself, the people that she talked to. so much of her world seemed to predicated on this dynamic. that she was going to be taken advantage of unless she could find a way to make the advantage work for her. it triggers something akin to anger, though she tries valiantly to fight it off. she’s still not good at containing the emotions that she should be able to.

“he hasn’t promised me anything.” her voice is a marked octave lower from where it started, nearly a whisper as she answered the question. just because he hasn’t promised her anything doesn’t mean that she hasn’t received anything, but she’s getting better about identifying the specifics of a question. “it’s just drinks.” she doesn’t even use a word as strong as friends. “i thought that was still okay around here.”

"In your own words, you noted that the relationship could prove to be mutually beneficial," Siobhan relayed back to her, as if she had a transcript of the conversation thus far in front of her. "Therefore, my question stands; what do you see yourself gaining from your interactions with Mr. Reeves?"

Drinks was not the answer that was most favorable to offer. It caused the producer's lips to define a frown. Even in their grace, there was distaste. "Do you?" she asks, tone remaining neutral on its surface, a collected chill resonating. "If Mr. Reeves is responsible for serving you an alcoholic drink, that is an action that is deemed to be illegal in the eyes of the law until you come of age. Do you still believe this to be an even relationship?"

[siobhanproductions]

emmareevcs​:

she’s not sure how to respond to the comment about wesley fairchild. it wasn’t a name that made it across her screen unless in tangent with a production, and now she found herself even more unwilling to do more than copy edit, the content would only serve to make her ill. it doesn’t seem to be the topic that they’re going to dwell on— she hopes there are some small mercies in the world. but it doesn’t seem they’re going to come from siobhan sterling. bile churns in her stomach, the emptiness that she’d hoped to sedate with a cup of chamomile tea for breakfast, it seems she will be receiving no respite. after all what could she say in response, that her business was never one built on honesty, and now she wasn’t sure what the foundation had been laid with at all. there was nothing about axed! that she wanted to discuss, least of all in the offices of the production company it was so entangled with.

and if that was not enough to drive her to the edge of unwell, siobhan’s next statement certainly does. her skin pales by shades, whatever armor there might have been already fading away by the sheer truth. there was nothing to hide from the woman across from her, not if so much was already understood between them. but she doesn’t dissolve, not just yet. she is somewhat accustomed to these types of negotiations, at least from watching them on the outside, that there can be mutual truths without having to admit to anything just yet. she thinks of her husband’s smile, she thinks she will be sick before this meeting is over. “i’m not sure, what there is to discuss about—” she inhales, hopes to replace the image of the smile with something else and fails, “my personal life, ms. sterling.”

Siobhan has never been in the business of offense for the sake of offense. That is the status quo of a dictator, where one's pleasure comes from disrobing opponents for little to no reason other than to demonstrate that it can be done, that their power allows them such privilege even when it is no right of anyone's. All the same, she does not give any privacy to Emma Reeves as her pallor is put on display. Instead, she holds her ground firmly, not a single crack in her foundation beneath her feet while her guest's spiderwebs.

"If you do not wish to enter into a discussion, Mrs. Reeves, that is your right to do so," she states, "but it therefore allows me to share with you my thoughts without interruption." Lips are sharply painted in a fine red, words that are cut from them give them the appearance of being chiseled. There is no room for softness. "Mr. Remington has become a dear friend of mine. Although he hasn't spoken in direct terms, I am of the understanding he has grown a particular fondness for someone that has entered into his life as of late." Emma is watched closely, the name etched in the reflection of the producer's eyes. "Because of this, I am extending the courtesy of a warning should those feelings be manipulated in any manner or by any relation."