Re: Cass & Mat: the Quiet Home
Suddenly, the cellar-spider fingered man had twitched up. He stood, stretched out his long, antique bones, pored over the entering duet. He was beady across the capture spiral of his birchwood desk, providing each of them their own individualized, squinted, peeved, stumped look. He’d flung on an insincere, beady grin, well-rehearsed. Admirable, even. She thought it looked like two invisible fishhooks had attached at the corners of his smarmy mouth, ticked the smile upward for him. He also had on a pathetically prehistoric suit, probably from Banana Republic. She simpered, moistened her cupid's bow, bottom lip too, in preparation to speak. She’d even drawn a breath inward, but.
“Wait a minute,” he said, laughing apologetically as he glanced back to la sorcière. Introducing a skeletal finger between him and the two, shaking it as if somebody had just played a joke on him, he continued. “Are you Matilda Montgomery? The little alien girl from that sci-fi series? The one with the,” he gesticulated with both of his hands, circulating within the general locality of his thorny hips, “The outfit?”
“Heh... yeah...” she said, her face obviously not pleased with being recognized for that fucking role. There were so many BETTER ones to choose from! Not the one with the gratuitous sex scene that the producer had made her do last minute. Which was not even in her contract. “The outfit.”
Ahem, she pulled her sunglasses up, rested them onto her crown. “Please sit.”
“You need to take some notes. You’ll need a pen and paper,” he takes these items out, enthralled. “But first of all, you’ve never seen Plan 10 from Saturn’s Rings, ever. You have no idea who played that alien girl, but anyway.” she turned to Cass, low-talking. “What should the recommendation say? Anything you want. Believable. Blah blah, she doesn’t need to come back, has rehabilitated?”