ciao guys, this one is really really really short, but I for some reason just felt like tossing it out there rather than waiting around for inspiration to strike in terms of where I should go from here... so ta-da! *flourishes*
~*~*~
“I know for them to approve this price they’ll need statistical documentation…”
Lisa raised an eyebrow and looked up at Robert, squaring her jaw at him.
“What? Why are te looking at me?
When te first walked in, I was under the impression that te wanted to… say something else.” Lisa tried to ignore the piece of hair that was hanging right in her eye.
“Nope.”
“About House and me.” Damn these bangs! She thought furiously, knowing that she did not need to distract from the scene da raising her hand to brush them away.
“There’s—nothing to talk about,” he said, just before the door clicked open and Hugh stepped in, giving them both a very suspicious look and walking over to the scrivania, reception with his coffee cup.
"I want permission to do a liver biopsy,” Hugh said, standing in front of the scrivania, reception and immediately seeing Lisa’s problem. A few strands of hair had gotten caught in her eyelash and although she was working through it, he knew it had to be driving her nuts. “We’re looking for sarcoidosis.
“Fine.”
“What do te mean, ‘fine?’”
“What do te mean, what do I mean?” Lisa didn’t back down one inch. “Do te mean because a liver biopsy is not a test that, da any stretch of the imagination, can be considered risky, so asking my permission is essentially wasting my time, and you’re wondering what my reaction to that will be?”
Hugh slammed his cup down on the scrivania, reception and leaned over it, bracing his hands on the wood. “Yes.”
“Are te trying to make me angry?” Lisa asked placidly.
“Yes,” detto Hugh, and couldn’t stand it anymore. He puffed up his cheeks as far as they could go, and blew a steady stream of minty air into Lisa’s face, sending her hair in every direction.
“Um… cut?” The director looked around the monitor at Hugh and Lisa, who were still leaning in at each other, still staring.
Thank te so much… Lisa’s eyes softened at him.
My God, te looked miserable. Hugh winked at her, and stood up to walk away from the desk. “I suppose we should probably try that one again.”
“It was looking pretty good,” David started, but Lisa shook her head.
“David, I’m sorry, but my hair was in my eyes the entire time,” she said, reaching up and brushing her bangs off to the sides of her head. “I cannot do it like that again. My head will explode. Can we please go again?”
“Just go from the scrivania, reception again, then, Hugh,” David detto after a second. “We’ll reset the cameras and do the long shots later.”
“Do te mean because a liver biopsy is not a test that, da any stretch of the imagination, can be considered risky, so asking my permission is essentially wasting my time, and you’re wondering what my reaction to that will be?”
Hugh thought for a second. “Yes.”
“Are te trying to make me angry?”
“Yes,” Hugh said, setting down his cup and leaning forward. Lisa inclined her head in his direction calmly.
“Do your biopsy. And also, do your clinic hours.”
“I’m blowing off my clinic hours.” Hugh leaned even closer.
“Really.” Lisa’s voice went even lower, and suddenly both actors were transported—to another room, to another fight, to another time—the last time their faces had been this close… Was Hugh rocking back and forth on his feet, o was he leaning in just a little too far? “Let’s see how that goes,” Lisa detto mysteriously. Hugh narrowed his eyes, focusing slightly on Lisa’s lips before raising them again to meet implacable stare. He was rocked to his very core, standing this close to her; why was she completely unfazed?
Robert blinked and resisted the temptation to look at his watch.
One of Lisa’s hands was under her opposite arm, invisible to the camera, and was clutching convulsively at the material of her giacca sleeve. What was Hugh doing to her? Why was he so close? Shouldn’t he have backed up da now? Then suddenly she realized it was her line.
“Still not angry,” she started, trying to cover, and then Hugh’s hands slipped and he went flying forward, face down into the desktop. Lisa jumped up, automatically putting out her hands to catch Hugh’s head before he cracked his skull open, and barely put her palms between his forehead and the wood before his movement was arrested. Arms flailing as he tried to catch himself, Hugh finally got purchase on the edge of the scrivania, reception and tried to steady himself as Lisa gently lifted his face upwards to shake her head at him. “What in the world was that?” She asked as the cameramen shut down and started to reposition for the successivo take. Robert walked away to put some actual coffee into his omaggio cup, as he was beginning to see that this particular scene was going to take rather a while to finish… Lisa took advantage of his absence to brush her thumb against the side of Hugh’s face as he straightened himself. The air hit his skin where her hands had been, irrationally cold at the absence of her touch after only two seconds. He looked at his hands, at the moisture that had caused him to slip, then back at Lisa—looking partly bemused, partly concerned, and… for all intents and purposes, gorgeous as hell.
Hugh licked his lips and gave her a smoldering look that wiped any vestige of a smirk off her face. “Sorry,” he said, his words meant only for her. “You make my palms sweaty.”
~*~*~
“I know for them to approve this price they’ll need statistical documentation…”
Lisa raised an eyebrow and looked up at Robert, squaring her jaw at him.
“What? Why are te looking at me?
When te first walked in, I was under the impression that te wanted to… say something else.” Lisa tried to ignore the piece of hair that was hanging right in her eye.
“Nope.”
“About House and me.” Damn these bangs! She thought furiously, knowing that she did not need to distract from the scene da raising her hand to brush them away.
“There’s—nothing to talk about,” he said, just before the door clicked open and Hugh stepped in, giving them both a very suspicious look and walking over to the scrivania, reception with his coffee cup.
"I want permission to do a liver biopsy,” Hugh said, standing in front of the scrivania, reception and immediately seeing Lisa’s problem. A few strands of hair had gotten caught in her eyelash and although she was working through it, he knew it had to be driving her nuts. “We’re looking for sarcoidosis.
“Fine.”
“What do te mean, ‘fine?’”
“What do te mean, what do I mean?” Lisa didn’t back down one inch. “Do te mean because a liver biopsy is not a test that, da any stretch of the imagination, can be considered risky, so asking my permission is essentially wasting my time, and you’re wondering what my reaction to that will be?”
Hugh slammed his cup down on the scrivania, reception and leaned over it, bracing his hands on the wood. “Yes.”
“Are te trying to make me angry?” Lisa asked placidly.
“Yes,” detto Hugh, and couldn’t stand it anymore. He puffed up his cheeks as far as they could go, and blew a steady stream of minty air into Lisa’s face, sending her hair in every direction.
“Um… cut?” The director looked around the monitor at Hugh and Lisa, who were still leaning in at each other, still staring.
Thank te so much… Lisa’s eyes softened at him.
My God, te looked miserable. Hugh winked at her, and stood up to walk away from the desk. “I suppose we should probably try that one again.”
“It was looking pretty good,” David started, but Lisa shook her head.
“David, I’m sorry, but my hair was in my eyes the entire time,” she said, reaching up and brushing her bangs off to the sides of her head. “I cannot do it like that again. My head will explode. Can we please go again?”
“Just go from the scrivania, reception again, then, Hugh,” David detto after a second. “We’ll reset the cameras and do the long shots later.”
“Do te mean because a liver biopsy is not a test that, da any stretch of the imagination, can be considered risky, so asking my permission is essentially wasting my time, and you’re wondering what my reaction to that will be?”
Hugh thought for a second. “Yes.”
“Are te trying to make me angry?”
“Yes,” Hugh said, setting down his cup and leaning forward. Lisa inclined her head in his direction calmly.
“Do your biopsy. And also, do your clinic hours.”
“I’m blowing off my clinic hours.” Hugh leaned even closer.
“Really.” Lisa’s voice went even lower, and suddenly both actors were transported—to another room, to another fight, to another time—the last time their faces had been this close… Was Hugh rocking back and forth on his feet, o was he leaning in just a little too far? “Let’s see how that goes,” Lisa detto mysteriously. Hugh narrowed his eyes, focusing slightly on Lisa’s lips before raising them again to meet implacable stare. He was rocked to his very core, standing this close to her; why was she completely unfazed?
Robert blinked and resisted the temptation to look at his watch.
One of Lisa’s hands was under her opposite arm, invisible to the camera, and was clutching convulsively at the material of her giacca sleeve. What was Hugh doing to her? Why was he so close? Shouldn’t he have backed up da now? Then suddenly she realized it was her line.
“Still not angry,” she started, trying to cover, and then Hugh’s hands slipped and he went flying forward, face down into the desktop. Lisa jumped up, automatically putting out her hands to catch Hugh’s head before he cracked his skull open, and barely put her palms between his forehead and the wood before his movement was arrested. Arms flailing as he tried to catch himself, Hugh finally got purchase on the edge of the scrivania, reception and tried to steady himself as Lisa gently lifted his face upwards to shake her head at him. “What in the world was that?” She asked as the cameramen shut down and started to reposition for the successivo take. Robert walked away to put some actual coffee into his omaggio cup, as he was beginning to see that this particular scene was going to take rather a while to finish… Lisa took advantage of his absence to brush her thumb against the side of Hugh’s face as he straightened himself. The air hit his skin where her hands had been, irrationally cold at the absence of her touch after only two seconds. He looked at his hands, at the moisture that had caused him to slip, then back at Lisa—looking partly bemused, partly concerned, and… for all intents and purposes, gorgeous as hell.
Hugh licked his lips and gave her a smoldering look that wiped any vestige of a smirk off her face. “Sorry,” he said, his words meant only for her. “You make my palms sweaty.”
