(╯°□°)╯︵ ┻━┻ (rookied) wrote in thedept, @ 2013-08-24 21:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! misc, eddie longbottom |
The camera pans to Eddie sat across from a small round table, a mug labelled "TEARS" in front of her. She is exchanging some small talk with someone off-camera, who sounds decidedly male. After they have a light-hearted argument about the standings of the Chudley Cannons, the interviewer calls everything into order with a slight clap of the hands. Ed gives him a somewhat exasperated look and straightens up a little in her seat. INTERVIEWER DUDE: Yeah, as I said, this shouldn't take too much time. He clears his throat. Eddie takes a sip from the mug and arches an eyebrow. E: Better get on with it then. ID: Right. Well, I suppose you've sort of galvanised yourself as somewhat of a character in this documentary. Eddie looks discomfited by this but ID keeps talking. And one of your more obvious traits is your appetite. He chuckles. Why do you eat so much? Is your stomach secretly a blackhole? A vortex to another world? E: What kind of a question is that? I mean, yeah, I eat a lot but it's not like a Thing, is it? ID: It is. E: I like food. OBVIOUSLY. Who the fuck doesn't like food? Food is, like, the best. And you try growing up with three older brothers and not get influenced by their food cramming ways. It's hard, man. They hit puberty and it's like, they're vacuuming food from the dinner table. I had to compete with that. ID: Has anyone called you fat? E: WHAT? ID: Has anyo-- E: What the fuck? Who the fuck cares? ID: Is it possible that you're an emotional eater then? E: … No. Look, mate, I just like eating. You know, like most normal people. If 'emotional eater' means I get cranky if I don't eat a proper meal, then yeah, I'm an emotional eater. Okay, sometimes I snack more when I'm stressed but you know, it's not a fucking problem. ID: Is it because you're pregnant? E: Wh--NO. NO. WHAT. E: NO. No no no no. No. Nope. No. What the fuck? No. Are you fucking serious right now? Fucking hell. No. I'm not. Even. Close. To. Fucking. Pregnant. No. ID: Are you sure? E: OF COURSE I'M FUCKING SURE. ID: … Okay. Well, we have to get that out of the way. So, has Callum Gallagher proposed yet? Eddie looks like she's about to smash the mug on ID's head. E: Normally, I'd tell you to get the fuck out of my business but if I don't answer, people are going to go batshit over it so -- no. No. We just fucking started dating, mate. What do you think? ID: You've known each other for a while though. E: SO? It's fucking different, innit. ID: Would you say yes if he did propose? E: THAT'S NOT YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS. ID: I ask you not to swear at me, please. E: I DO AS I FUCKING WANT. And don't tell me what to do when you're trying to pry into my fucking life. ID: So this is a bad time to ask how many kids you'd want to have one day? E: Yes. It is a bloody fucking bad time. ID: Maybe three? Four? Like you and your siblings? Eddie glares at him for an uncomfortably long period of time. Her hand twitches on the mug again. After another beat, ID realises that he's not getting any more out of that line of questioning and moves on. ID: You're a big Quidditch fan. Eddie's expression visibly brightens but she remains guarded, crossing her arms. And you've obviously gone to a few tryouts with a couple of teams. Who would you compare yourself with in the Quidditch world? She sits up and leans on her elbows, quietly contemplating the question before she finally speaks. It is clear that she is a lot more into this topic than the previous ones. E: I honestly don't know. And, well -- that's probably a good thing, you know? Growing up with da, er -- well. Growing up with my parents and having to deal with the recognition that comes with their involvement in the war and all. I mean, look, we had it really good growing up. It wasn't crazy media attention all the time and I really appreciate that from my parents. But there's still that expectation. Like, your parents did all these things -- what are you going to do now? And I think that's a bit similar when you start comparing yourself to other Quidditch players. I don't know. Does that make sense? She smiles, a tad self-deprecating. ID: Yeah, I suppose it does. E: Yeah. Look, I just want my own skills to be judged as they are. I don't want to be the next so and so, as if I'm replacing someone. It's not -- I don't like that. If I ever get recognised, I really hope that it'll be because of what I'm doing and not… you know, not in relation to someone else. Fuck riding on coattails. ID: Would you ever date a Quidditch star then? E: Dude, you were doing so well and now you ask that type of shit. What the hell? I'm in a relationship right now. And I don't think it's a particularly good thing to go dating people JUST for their JOB, you know? That's bullshit. Brief sheepish silence. ID: … We know that you're looking at entering professional Quidditch. It's a fairly unpredictable career, isn't it? We've seen careers span decades and some that barely make it a season. Do you have another backup career in mind if Quidditch doesn't pan out? E: First up, I'm still working here. I don't want to count my fucking chickens before the eggs hatch. But IF I get into a team, and IF something happens and I can't play anymore… She looks distressed by this thought but tries to shrug it off. I -- I'd come back here. E: It's weird, yeah? Because I started working here to tide over until I hopefully get into a Quidditch team but, it's grown on me. She shrugs. The people I work with, man. They're really good. Sometimes we bicker and we fight, and steal each other's food, but… we're all here to do a job and we're hopefully giving something back to the community, you know? I really like that. I wouldn't mind doing more of that one day. There's another moment of silence. Eddie drains her mug. ID: … Do you want to grab a coffee with me sometime? Like, you know, a date. Coffee date. Just casual. E: The fuck? NO. I said I'm dating -- Bugger this. I'm out. She shuffles quickly out of her seat. The door slams shut soon after. |