All is not right with the world. His drink delivery is late, the director is yelling at him, he's sleepy- where is his drink- there's a simpering camera-lady whose little mawkish comments are louder than his lines (and for goodness' sake he's the protagonist!) and the cup of delicious liquid energy that is usually present is conspicuously missing.
~
"Yes coffee," a handsome man in a thick woollen coat mutters, swiping the steaming cup from Joan's hand. "Black, two sugars, right?"
She nods, about to say something but he lifts it to his mouth, takes a swig, looks like he wants to spit it out for a split second, looks down at his designer clothes and the stylish hallway, then changes his mind and swallows with a resentful glare. "Disgusting. Where did you get this rubbish?"
Before she can say something- anything- again, he shoves the coffee back into her hand and waves her away. "Get me another."
Joan stares at him for a moment. He raises an eyebrow. "Please."
She rolls her eyes and stalks off, popping the lid off and taking a sip as she goes. Does she really have to deal with some bratty, drama-queen actor who's a coffee connoisseur now? Seriously? Her lips form a moue; it actually tastes like dishwater- no joke- and even bears the resemblance.
Okay sure, maybe buying from a vending machine isn't the greatest idea for drinkable coffee.
~
Ten minutes later, she's back, deluxe Starbucks, extra sugars and all. The man accepts it gratefully and downs half of it in the space of two gulps. "You look like you need two."
He exhales heavily and offers her a brilliant smile, one like a faint beam of sunshine shining through a crack between curtains. "Yeah maybe I do. But the sight of you gives me enough motivation without a second cup," he says with offhand confidence.
She wrinkles her nose. "Fashionable coats, charming smiles and cliche lines snatched out of online pick-up line collections aren't quite conducive to instant attraction in my case. Sorry."
"I made that one up actually-"
"We're going to be on set soon, sir," one of the assistants chirp, adjusting her speaker.
He nods and sets the cup on the coffee table. "Hey," he tells Joan, "I'll probably be done soon. In an hour? Hang around a bit afterwards, yeah?"
"Yeah," she says, as she shifts her bag up higher over her shoulder. "What's your name?"
"Kris."
Ah. One of those big name actors starring in the movie. How lucky. "Well, nice to meet you Kris. See you later."
~
"Cut! Concentrate. Kris, you've repeated your line several times like you've put your mouth on a broken autoplay while your mind goes elsewhere. Concentrate!" the director snaps.
"Yes ma'am," Kris responds politely. He doesn't know whether at this point he needs that girl or the coffee more.
So when the final cut for the day rolls around, he collapses into a couch and runs his hands through his hair absentmindedly. There's a familiar "Hey" and the wafting scent of something from the higher heavens and then he shoots up.
"Hey yourself," he manages suavely as she hands him the drink. "and thanks."
"No problem," she says, "I figured you'd need the coffee after all the acting. It's a hard job I can tell."
"But I like it- hmm you remembered my order."
"Black, two sugars isn't really that hard to remember, and well, hate to break it to you, but it's not an original or complicated one either."
