What are your thoughts on the director, Luke Clemens? Do you believe he is as perfect as his fanbase lets on?"Perfect?" Peter echoed, lifting his head up to catch the lights overhead. A visible squint in his eyes, he gave a firm shake of his head, still staring past the interviewer. There's a lengthy pause, in which Peter's brows knotted and his tongue darted out to lick the top of his lips before scrapping downward and back in. A cough caught his attention, to which he promptly looked back down with an arch in his brow and a glint playing across his eyes.
"Young."
Perplexed, the interviewer tilted her head forward, narrowing her eyes at Peter.
"Just young?" she pressed and Peter simply nodded.
Maximillian Harrison? He got quite a bad rap as a clumsy stunt man. I hear that's not good for a man in his line of work.It took awhile and a good lot of squinting at the interviewer before realizing who Maximillian was. A light tint of red shaded his cheeks, of which he promptly leaned to the side to grab the attention of the onstage assistant. "Could I get a cup of tea? Hot, unsweetened, please," he covered his mouth as he spoke, as to further hush his voice. Turning back he gave a thin smile and apologized.
"I wouldn't say clumsy," he pondered, head slanting to the side a bit as his eyes focused on the interviewer's hand, "Maybe willingly naive is a better description."
"Oh?" she mouthed, her eyes widening and her lips curving into the smallest smirk.
"About the industry," Peter continued, pausing to catch her look. She nodded for him to go on, gesturing with her hand. After not getting another word for what seemed like a full minute and a half, she almost faded back, paled slightly, and frowned deeply at the quiver in his brow and the immediate pursing of his lips—the bottom of which was suddenly being chewed on ferociously.
"Ah. Let's move on, then. Is there any chance of you starring...?"
What of Harris Klein? I'm sure as a man looking to broaden his horizons in the film industry, you must pull some inspiration from a man who obviously knew his stuff.With head tilted forward, taking a quick sip of the hot tea given to him moments ago, Peter gave a curt shrug in response. "Lost, I guess," he mumbled, eyes darting to the side as he carefully set the cup down, "A fish swimming upstream; I know the feeling."
"Care to elaborate?" the interviewer asked, hiding the anticipated look that graced her features.
"Not really," Peter commented, hands once again reaching for the cup to hide his face behind and muffle his words, "I'd be using different, more complex words and syntax, but I'd be more or less repeating myself. I said it simply enough—that should suffice."
In contrast to your fame and stardom, what's your take on the sudden rise and popularity of Youtube stars, who create and manage their own small productions? In particular, what're your thoughts on working with Jake Wilson?"You say that is if I don't need constant reminding of my 'fame'," Peter quietly uttered, still hiding behind the cup of tea clenched tightly in his hands. The interviewer forced a laugh, tilting her head back for added affect—it made him cringe slightly. He understood that not many people enjoyed interviewing him.
"He's an every-man living out his dream," Peter finally answered, almost shrugging as his eyes drifted toward his shoes.
"You're saying he's average?" she twisted his words, smiling as she did so,
"Don't think highly of podcasters and independent stars?""I said it as a term of endearment," Peter stuttered as the cup was set down and it seemed he fancied wringing his hands more than the fragile glass, "I understand why people like him; I don't understand why people like me."
Since you'll be working with more than just the director and the actors, you must know some of the less flashy stars, right? Like the up and comer, Phoebe J. Collins who's made herself known in the industry, but not the public."She gets the job done," Peter remarked, quietly rubbing the cup in his hands as his eyes glazed over. After a few moments, he coughed and apologized, flashing a quick smile as he continued, "Memorable."
A thinly veiled puff emitted from the woman's lips, obligated to attempt to press the man further,
"Memorable, how?"Noticing the tired look and the frustration knitting her brows, Peter simply nodded and answered in kind, "I was just being nostalgic. Nothing of importance; I apologize."
You've heard of Leo PNB Xavier, right? I imagine so, seeing as you've lived in London most of your life. And especially since his sister is such a rising star in the industry. Any thoughts on his sort of fading into film production and becoming a simple costume designer?Looked like the interviewer threw all caution to the wind; she wasn't hiding her blatant want to get a rise out of him, something to slam onto the covers. And Peter, as he quickly retrieved his cup of tea, began to avoid any contact with her, preferring the nice lilacs that acted as a divider between them. What came as a disappointment was the sudden nothingness that hit his lips as he tilted the cup upward. Empty, just like any shred of confidence that swam in that mind of his.
Giving up on hiding his face, Peter grasped onto his wrists, vice grip already reddening the pale surface. "People have their dreams and passions," he began, still fervently staring at the lilacs on the coffee table, "There's nothing
simple about it."
"Then what would you call it?""Certainly not fading away," he uttered quietly, "more like finding yourself—public approval notwithstanding."
Hm, not much about Amy Ho, is there? Do you know her? Any comments in regards to her talents or whatever?A break in the onslaught of instigation that the interviewer was no longer attempting to hide. Peter let out a sigh he figured she couldn't hear and leaned further into the cushion. The interview had him so on edge, he forgot just how to relax—not that that wasn't a thing Peter usually remembered to do. The irony immediately planted a small smile, no longer thin and pursed, onto his features.
"Works hard just to work hard," Peter commented, "but knows more than a lot of people claim to know."
Lifting the tea cup, he did his best to keep the smile on his face as he added, "Loves coffee as much as I love tea." The assistant promptly retrieved the cup before he could object, his whole body almost leaning forward as he stumbled on his apology.
What about Max Goldstein? A man who's just starting out in producing has no doubt heard of this Max. Any competition or butting of heads you see in your future? Not everyone's going to like your ideas and if that someone's Max, then you're production has a big roadblock ahead of it."Nope," he said plainly, not catching the wording she attempted to use this time.
"Not at all?" she gave him a blank stare, doing her best to contain her agitation.
"We have our differences," Peter started, though didn't make any hints that he'd continue.
Sighing, the interviewer simply rubbed her temples and pinched the bridge of her nose before moving onto the next question.
As for my final question in regards to you coworkers, colleagues, whatever: what's a pretty lady like Addison Matthews doing being an assistant producer? She's quite young, a doll, something that I'm sure could be cause for concern, am I right?Of course, an interviewer can't outright say something like, 'Are you going to take advantage of your position as a Producer and movie star to get in bed with someone aspiring to do the things you do, in hopes that she would form connections that would rocket her career forward,' but it was blatantly obvious that that was what she was trying to get across. Peter's lips parted, teeth clenched and his face contorted slightly. A finger shot up to lodge itself between his lips as he forced himself not to chew his lower lip raw. The interviewer took this as a moment to press the situation further, but it honestly looked like she gave up on holding out for something scandalous to gossip about. Her eyes focused completely on him, but he could tell by the slouched over shoulders and lazed tilt in her head meant she'd rather this be over.
"She's... not my type?" Peter squeaked out, lurching his head forward as he spoke, "I don't know what your asking."
In a disbelieving tone, Peter scratched his head and asked, "Are you sure you know who I am?"
"It's why I didn't want to do this in the first place," she groaned, standing from her seat as she immediately left the set.
Looking down at his cup of tea, Peter sighed as the comment sunk in. The assistant who patiently stood above him caught his attention and he realized why the lady was still standing there. Downing his beverage in a rush, he handed her the cup and stood, thanked her and promptly wandered around lost. The interviewer barreled the last few questions as if she was running a damn marathon, which left him with over twenty minutes left of simply waiting for the nanny to call.
Maybe he'd go for some ice cream, rub it in his daughter's face, and then promptly get her the largest serving they had at the local ice cream parlor across the street and watch her get her yellow sundress all splattered with every flavor they had.
