Remy Lebeau (lediableblanc) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-08-26 02:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, natasha romanoff (black widow), remy lebeau (gambit) |
Who: Remy LeBeau and Natasha Romanova
What: A surprise opportunity
When: 8/25
Where: A bar in Anaheim
Rating/Warning: PG, language
Status: Complete
Tasha slid into the bar, picking up her drink and nursing it. Vodka, top shelf, and she closed her eyes so she could enjoy the smoothness of it. Well worth the price, and well worth the relaxation it afforded her. Ending a show was stressful.
Remy had had a long day, and frankly, he needed a drink. He figured he’d stop into a bar, so he didn’t bring anything home to Candy. He turned into one on his way home and sidled up into a seat next to a pretty redhead. “Pardon-moi, this place taken?”
“Not at all, handsome,” She gestured at the seat with her non-ring hand. It might be fun to flirt a teensy bit.
“Thanks.” Remy flashed her an easy grin. “Could do with a drink; been a long day.” She looked vaguely familiar, but he didn’t want to push it somehow.
She flagged down a waiter. “Get this man some southern comfort. Unless he’d like something harder?”
“Bless you, kind woman,” Remy said fervently. “I’ll drink to you, and hope the day I see another studio idiot is un longtemps off!”
“Most studio execs are idiots,” Natasha pointed out, helpfully.
“It’s true, but I still gotta deal with ‘em.” Remy got his drink and tipped back half of it in one go. “God, I needed that. You work in the studios too?” Probably not his type of studios.
“Mm. Yes.” She grinned at him, and moved her hair a bit so it caught the light. “Finishing up shooting on the last season of a show I’m working on.” And starring in, and writing, and producing….
“Eh bien. Good for you.” Remy chuckled. “I do sound, but mostly freelance. So sometimes I deal with the bigwigs and they talk at me like I’s some kinda moron. I think it’s the accent.” He made a face. “Might be a bayou rat, but I ain’t stupid.”
Natasha slipped naturally into her own Russian accent. She waggled her eyebrows at him. “The accent is attractive, they clearly have their heads up their asses.”
Remy laughed, but felt he should qualify. "Glad another lady besides my wife agrees. Name's Remy." If she told him to fuck off after hearing he had a wife, so be it. He was just flirting; for him it was as natural as breathing.
“Natasha. A pleasure.” She lifted her drink with her ring hand, this time, in a sort of toast.
Ah, that made a difference. Remy toasted back, smiling. When she said her name, though, that was where he made the connection. “I think I seen your show, now that I get your name. Black Widow?” It was a good little show, maybe a little silly, but it didn’t pretend to be anything it wasn’t.
“That’s the show! We have two episodes left to film, and it’s going to be really busy until then. Which is not a bad thing. I will miss a lot of those people.”
“Ah, I didn’t know it was going off. Did you choose it, or it get cancelled?” Remy finished his drink and ordered another, this time paying for his own.
“I chose it. I wrestled creative control away a few years ago. It was time to end it, before it got either too serious or too silly.” She looked amused.
“Good for you.” He meant it. So many in this business didn’t keep control of anything, so it all went to shit or didn’t go the way they wanted.
“It wasn’t an easy fight, but my agent had some foresight…” She waved a hand lightly. “And a stubborn producer left.”
“Also good.” Remy was curious about it, in spite of himself. “Do you mind if I ask how you got into the business? I used to do demolitions, but since I got color blind I can’t no more. Was kinda thinkin’ of doing something different.”
Natasha shook her head. She didn’t mind at all. “I was well on my way to being a ballet star, when I was in a television commercial. I’ve been in film or television ever since.” She leaned forward thoughtfully. “Do you think you can act?”
“I don’t know. Originally, way back when, I got an agent who took me out here, but he said the accent wouldn’t work. But I said I wasn’t gonna get rid of it.” Hell no.
“The accent would limit a lot of your roles, but it wouldn’t make things impossible. Just type cast you.” She shrugged her shoulder. “Would you like a chance to read for a role in a movie I’m working on?”
"Oui." Remus didn't hesitate. "And I'd consider it a kindness." Especially now with a family. He wanted to give Candy more than a crappy apartment, and while he might enjoy indulging his dream habits from time to time, there was no way he'd wind up inside for it.
“If you’ve got the chops I know just the role that might suit you.” She grinned and pulled a pen and paper out of her shirt. She scribbled an email on it.
“I done some acting, I ain’t a virgin, but still.” Remy smiled. “What’d you have in mind, madame?” Candy was going to freak out.
“Well, my movie is basically Red Sonja in space. Science Fiction with a bad-assed female lead. She has some crew members, including a rather roguish pilot.” She raised her eyebrows.
Remy chuckled. “Maybe that would work out.” He coughed, trying to remember old lessons. “I can make the accent go away a little,” he said in his best Broadcast Diction. But he couldn’t get it to leave entirely.
“Maybe keep it a little.” she held up her fingers a few centimeters apart. “It’ll help with the roguish elements.” And probably turn Remy into fangirl bait.
“Define roguish.” Remy chuckled.
She gestured at him as if to say ‘evidence A’, then winked. “I think it’s the way you carry yourself. And the hair.”
“Aw, now you just bein’ nice.” Remy looked down, grinning. But he tried to focus on talking in the non-regional accent. “I can’t do it for a very long time, but during the space of a take or two I should be okay. I guess auditioning couldn’t hurt.” He took a breath, speaking in his own patois again. “Guess I ain’t gonna be one of those who can stay in character between takes, if I do this thing, hein?”
“Probably not. But I’ll send you a sneak peak of the script, if you’d like. I’ll have to kill you if it leaks.” And the look on her face was totally serious.
“Wouldn’t leak from me.” Remy was equally serious. “No foolin’.” He couldn’t help but be excited. His job was a good job, but it was vaguely seedy. And it wasn’t going to pay enough for a house, or the other things he and Candy had talked about.
“Good. I’m good to the people who work with me. I hope you get the part.” She held her hand out to Remy, smirking.
Remy shook it. “Merci, Madame Natasha.” He grinned. “I didn’t expect to meet you, but it’s been a pleasure.”
“The best encounters are the ones you don’t expect. Or for all you know, I set myself up here just to meet you. Who knows? I do play a spy on tv.” she winked.
Remy laughed. “That might be stretchin’ it un peu,” he joked. “Besides, ain’t you got a husband?” Some famous guy at home.
“You’ve caught me.” She held up her hands, as though she surrendered.
“Our love can never be,” Remy deadpanned. “‘Course, I mean no offense to your man, but I’s a whole lot scareder of my wife than him.”
“He’s a god.” She looked completely deadpan. “Literally. God of Thunder. Hammer and everything.” Pause. “But I’d be more scared of the woman anyway. We’re the deadliest gender.”
“A god?” Remy echoed, eyes widening faintly. “Somehow I feel like you ain’t lying, neither.” In this place, who knew. “That’s mad. How you meet?”
“We were on the same team in the dreams, but he did some work on the show, guest spot a few years ago. It sort of grew out of the friendship.” Natasha smiled, fondly. “It’s strange, since I in no way had any feelings beyond ‘his arms are sexy’ in the dreams.”
“I was married to someone else in the dreams,” Remy said. “She’s here, seein’ someone else. And we get along, but I ain’t felt any compunction to fall in love with her. At least for all they do, the dreams don’t make us fall for nobody we don’t want to?”
“Maybe for some people, not for us.” Natasha had certain feelings for Clint but they weren’t really romantic. She hadn’t dreamt much of this other world, but she wasn’t going to talk about it to anyone.
“Maybe it’s rude, but I’s just glad about me.” Remy chuckled.
“Not rude. You’re happy. That’s what counts.”
“Oui, madame, very happy.” Remy smiled. “‘Specially with a shot at a new line of work.”
“It’s a good shot too. I wish you all the luck,” Natasha got to her feet. “One more for the road?”
“Certainement.” Remy held out his glass as the bartender came by, favoring her with a brilliant smile. He did seem to have the power to get less strong-willed women to do what he wanted.
And sometimes, the strong-willed ones. Natasha threw some money down, since she’d offered and all.
“Thank you.” Remy smiled sweetly. He was curious about something. “Miz Natasha, am I right in guessin’ that you’re really Russian, based on the name? The accent isn’t put on?”
“Nyet. Well. Not entirely. I was born in Moscow, but spent most of my life in the states. And in the dreams I spent a lot of years working on the accent. It crops up from time to time, though.” She chuckled. “Especially when stressed.”
“Ah. I was just curious, it slipped a li’l bit earlier.” Remy smiled. “You ain’t got a dialect coach?” He meant more for him than for her. The bartender brought his Southern Comfort and he tipped it to Natasha in a bit of a toast.
“Email me your number and I’ll pass it along. Just don’t lose too much of that accent.” She started to sashay away. “It’s part of the charm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Remy smiled. “Like I said - been a pleasure to meet you.”