albert doesn’t consider himself a temperamental man; maintaining a strict air of impassivity at all times is a natural skill that he has honed into something of an art form over the years. ada’s facetious little diatribe only burrows under his skin because he knows that’s what she’s trying to do. and still, he remains stony-faced as ever— though, albert does allow himself the small pettiness of noting, ‘ inappropriately preoccupied with personal appearance ‘ as his next note.
then, ada’s one-woman play comes to a close with her pressing her face against the mirror, and albert’s expression misshapes itself into a snarl. nothing in him can articulate exactly why that flippant display is what sets him off, but it does. he stares at her, eyes boring into the glass, hoping she can feel his contempt. and then, with the suddenness of a light being flicked off, albert relaxes. reassumes his position in his chair, legs crossed neatly— ada isn’t worth his ire, he decides. if she wants to parade herself around like a fool, even if she believes it to be at his expense, that’s her prerogative. all the animosity from just moments before has been drained from his voice entirely when he leans into the microphone once more and says, “ please step away from the glass, miss wong. “
he studies her without the caustic heat of anger coloring his view, and albert determines that, yes, she is not worth hating. ‘ attention-seeking behavior, ‘ is written down as well. “ let me remind you once again— since i suppose it bears repeating— that this is simply a formality, “ he says dryly, “ the theatrics are wholly unnecessary. nobody else is watching you, so if you’re quite finished, we can continue. “ albert gives pause, leaning back in his chair and bringing the microphone with him. the more casual posture makes him feel settled back into his own skin. “ have you calmed yourself enough for the next question, or should i give you more time? “
𝖆 cold, sick feeling slithers down her spine– hard to say if she really does feel the odium he’s directing at her, or if it’s something carried in the posture of the silhouette she can just barely make out. okay, too far. he clearly isn’t amused. ada always forgets until she’s at this point that as fun as it is to annoy wesker, there’s something deeply disquieting about actually pissing him off. it makes her feel like she needs to kill something.
not that she’d let it show; she refuses to recoil, as much as every instinct tells her to. her heart racing, she lets her hands fall to her sides and takes two steps back when instructed – she plays it like she’s just doing as she’s told, like she isn’t glad for the excuse to put that extra space between herself and the violence he was radiating just moments ago. maybe it’s best to respect the fourth wall. she does, however, break the cardinal rule of the performance by turning her back to him, cutting herself off. a necessary moment of concealment so she can find her character again.
she uses it as an opportunity to pace back to her primary set prop, ensuring her body language remains languid and confident, before turning once again downstage and pulling herself up to sit on the table. like him, she reached her boiling point in a flash, and it dissipates just as fast. “ well, how am i supposed to know who’s watching if i don’t break curtain a little? fine, fine. ” a slow, dramatic inhale is followed by a slower and more dramatic exhale, and then she takes a shuddering breath as if coming down from a bout of hysterics– which she’s sure he’ll claim she had. a brief performance of recovery satirizes the real emotional one-eighty she just made, then: “ alright, i’m ready. "
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