he’s still new enough that sally is trying to find his limit, but not new enough that she thinks he’ll tell her manager. that he’ll call, because he tends to avoid that from what she’s noticed. she looks. she watches. she takes notes, stores them in a box inside her head, and only brings them out again when it’s necessary. it is necessary now; sally trapped indoors for the day, because there’s a supposed threat that she thinks is bullshit anyway. but barry’s a bit more on edge; jumpy in a way that she hasn’t seen him before. wasn’t he meant to be the calm one? she doesn’t care, and as she’s walking over her own furniture, sock-clad feet pressing into the soft velvet of her couch as she moves to where he’s sitting. sitting. like he belongs. like he’s a guest. she wonders if she’ll miss him when he leaves. she does, sometimes. doesn’t ever admit it to even herself as her chest is tight and she’s sat in bed staring at the ceiling. she almost wants to press a foot into his side to make him stand up - but, no. she wouldn’t actually dare to. “get up,” she’s stating, rather than asking, instead. a bunch of papers in her hand. confidential! scrawled across them all. she smiles down at him, sweet as can be. “i need someone to rehearse with, and if you’re not letting me see gene, then it’ll have to be you, bar,” a nickname she’d put onto him. barry had frowned the first time, but not said a word. sally hadn’t stopped using it since. “or production will have to go back a day to that i can learn - and then the producers will freak because they’re on a tight schedule and the director wants me on his next film, so i can’t afford to mess up, and when they ask me why, i’ll tell them that that silent, handsome, brooding man that stands outside my trailer like a stalker? that’s why!” she talks like she doesn’t need air. knows what it takes to get what she wants. “it’s two scenes. c’mon, bar. it’ll be fun.”
