"So," Lestat leans over in one of the nameless cast chairs designated for outside endeavors. Behind him is a studio built for the next big thing. He generously accepts a lighter, as he has lost his yet again, to light his cigarette. Through the first puff of smoke, his eyes cut over to his co-star. "Howard, right?" The actor grins with the pinched cigarette and leans back in his chair to exhale aside. "Three weeks of shooting this thing and we finally meet." He extends a hand for a shake. "Lestat," but the world already knows him. "You're good. Got that," he fans his hand over his face and makes a grabbing motion. "Look about you. Modeled before? Mmm." He turns his face away to slow down his drags. "I hate the director. He doesn't get the vision I also have. It will make the movie better. It will, I swear it on my life," he smirks at the irony while gesturing with his hand which holds the cigarette. "But look, he's making our roles diverge. You know what I think," he turns to Howard, gently tapping the tip of his finger over his co-star's forearm. "I think he's jealous of our chemistry. We did it in one take! Rare thing." Lestat narrows his eyes at Howard; it's a knowing kind of look. You know, the kind that says: I know what you are, bloodsucker, but I can't prove it because you walk in the sun without sizzling and I have to have an umbrella. Then, he tilts his head away. "Anyway, I think he's lost his mind. Hah, classic."
✦📽️✦ ─────── THE LID OF HIS LIGHTER clinked shut, snuffing the flame that had eagerly licked the tip of the A‑lister's cigarette. Howard nodded at the confirmation of his name, and with a beaming smile, caught Lestat's hand in a firm shake. "Yes, the one and only. The scheduling has been rough for my last project, but here I am. I'm just so glad that it all worked out in the end. Looking forward to work with you in the next few months," he flicked the ash of his own cigarette. "We'd be grafted onto one another had it not been for the script change."
Howard laughed at the praise. "You mean the kicked‑dog look about me? Yes, that's the selling point, isn't it. I'm shocked that I landed a somewhat villainous character. Farraday's an eccentric director." That was a polite way to put it, though Howard would be hard‑pressed not to agree with Lestat that the director was hard to negotiate with.
Yes, he knew that look. Howard answered it with a polite smile. Not here.
"One would argue he never had his marbles to begin with. I like niche, incomprehensible roles, so I'm afraid I'm exactly the type to be featured in Sam Farraday's fever dreams. I wish he'd listen to reason, I agree. The blue curtain scene -- I mean, what the fuck was that," he chuckled, shaking his head. "Buuuut it has a cult‑classic feel about it. Fifth Element, almost. Strange avant‑garde nonsense to it."
"I love your work in your recent film," Howard leaned into his chair, "Something psychological‑thriller to broaden the palate this time around?" Vampires and their vices -- fame. "Unlike Farraday, I'm rather open for suggestions, so hop into my trailer whenever you think you have an idea for something. We can usurp him, two against one," he winked.
