Zacharias was thankful he'd actually been booked for shoots over the past couple weeks, needing the distraction of something mindless. He could blank his mind out and follow direction with the best of them, focusing completely on how to turn to make this or that designer's bizarre collection no one would ever actually wear look desirable while looking like he hated everything or was completely bored with it all. The hours were weirdly long, he'd admit, but that just meant he could beg off of miscellaneous parties under auspices of being exhausted. He'd lost track of how many yeah, I'll see what I can do and if I'm not busy excuses he'd given since Valentine's Day.
This was all Marlow's fault.
She had to come along being, well, Marlow and get his head all twisted around and weird. He had a system and a plan that worked, mostly
( ... )
Cormac jerked his head in the direction of the small lot of girls Zacharias had just walked right by, barely eighteen and hardly hiding in their hurried whispers. Their eyes were glued to Zacharias, and some, briefly flickered over to Cormac curiously.
"Looks like they've discovered this is your regular place, mate," he said, not withholding the urge to roll his eyes. "Came right on up before and asked if I was a model, too-"
He grinned, then, typically smarmy when he was giving Zacharias a hard time. The bartender brought out the two pints Cormac had ordered, sliding them across with a seasoned nod. It wasn't as if they were best friends, but he knew their order and always kept up on the refills.
Lifting the glass and tilting it slightly toward the bartender who knew them all too well by this point, Zacharias slipped onto the stool and turned to look over his shoulder.
"They're twelve," he explained sadly. "They're so impressionable and believing. It's the only way they'd buy that.."
On a normal night, Zacharias might have flashed a grin and thrown a wink for the fan club's sake. He wasn't feeling it just then, though. Actually, he hadn't had much of a taste for random girls in a while.
"Not my fault my dashing features are overshadowing what they've seen millions of times on those bloody billboards-" he rattled, bringing the mug to his lips in order to take that first refreshing sip.
He sighed pleasantly, the cold sting of the ale enough to wake him up just slightly, remind him that the day was over for now and that while it all had to start again the next day, at the very least he had a few drinks ahead of him and his best mate to whine and prattle on with.
His best mate who looked decidedly more dour than usual, not even flashing that stupid grin he always had on hand in times like these.
"Which is where you punch my shoulder, tell me I'm a prat and then sign some autographs-" he continued, eyeing Zacharias briefly. "You're not ill are you? You know I can't get sick-"
Comments 26
This was all Marlow's fault.
She had to come along being, well, Marlow and get his head all twisted around and weird. He had a system and a plan that worked, mostly ( ... )
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Cormac jerked his head in the direction of the small lot of girls Zacharias had just walked right by, barely eighteen and hardly hiding in their hurried whispers. Their eyes were glued to Zacharias, and some, briefly flickered over to Cormac curiously.
"Looks like they've discovered this is your regular place, mate," he said, not withholding the urge to roll his eyes. "Came right on up before and asked if I was a model, too-"
He grinned, then, typically smarmy when he was giving Zacharias a hard time. The bartender brought out the two pints Cormac had ordered, sliding them across with a seasoned nod. It wasn't as if they were best friends, but he knew their order and always kept up on the refills.
"Of course, I said 'yes' naturally-"
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"They're twelve," he explained sadly. "They're so impressionable and believing. It's the only way they'd buy that.."
On a normal night, Zacharias might have flashed a grin and thrown a wink for the fan club's sake. He wasn't feeling it just then, though. Actually, he hadn't had much of a taste for random girls in a while.
Again. Marlow's fault.
Reply
He sighed pleasantly, the cold sting of the ale enough to wake him up just slightly, remind him that the day was over for now and that while it all had to start again the next day, at the very least he had a few drinks ahead of him and his best mate to whine and prattle on with.
His best mate who looked decidedly more dour than usual, not even flashing that stupid grin he always had on hand in times like these.
"Which is where you punch my shoulder, tell me I'm a prat and then sign some autographs-" he continued, eyeing Zacharias briefly. "You're not ill are you? You know I can't get sick-"
Reply
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