@necropolist / a semi-plotted thing that i am just RUNNING with
he dismisses a spin doctor with the wave of his hand, a lazy sigh when the guy dares to suggest heidegger join in on shinra's photoshoot.
this one revolves around the military, their recruitment campaign in full swing - macho guys posing as if they were action heroes, beautiful women garbed in military fatigue - the perfect ploy to compel either desperate men or women into war. there's no notion in these photos of masks and helmets, restrictive, modest clothing. no - the men are flexing their abs and the women pushing up their tits. it's sleazy, sure, but as palmer had once said - sex sells-! and selling the military to the people had apparently been needed since the end of the war. without war, people didn't see the need for the army - were heidegger to have his way, their campaign would revolve around passion - surviving and thriving. knowing full well, and promoting, that bloodshed be a good thing - were it the spill of your enemies. alas, that may have been the reason why he'd not been placed in charge of PR.
smoking a cigarette, he watches as models pose and tease toward the camera - each and every figure, the perfect pin-up-girl. but her - marni - she's the best. the most beautiful. eyes toward the camera not without a wink and a kiss. he gazes at her from the side lines, watches her with a grin as she taunts the camera.
"would y'look at that-?" a soldier muses aloud, the director initially quiet in awe before he exchanges a word with the younger man.
"incredible." his eyes remain on her, watch her with a smoulder similar to the burn between his fingers - lips carved into a knowing grin. after-all, he's a man with power. a man with pull.
if he wanted it, he'd get it and right now - he wants her.
his tongue lashes at the wet lips of a man, hungry, knows all too well where she'll end up tonight. his bed, maybe the back of his car.
confidence ( or perhaps arrogance ) is the guide on the walk toward her, heidegger talking to her not moments after her shoot is over.
"you were wonderful out there, truly-" his honey-laden gaze never shifts from her form, expression soft but forever marred by the scars of battle and seriousness of a man in uniform. he breathes smoke as he speaks "think i at least owe you a drink-" easy, smooth. "for all you're doing for us today." and all of the things she'd do, she'd not yet know of.