just a little touch of star quality

          “you’re joking, right ?? please tell me you’re joking. he murdered that scene. literally.”

   ' mhm, he indeed murdered it - but with his awful acting! then again, maybe you're seeing something i don't. '

the fright fuelling her quick motion is acknowledged with a feral grin, slowly retreating his hand and stopping midway, letting it dangle halfway out of his cell in the most carefree fashion. he leans against the bars to stare at her in a more comfortable position, almost as if the two of them would have the most normal of conversations – but of course they don’t, and the spite in her next words efficiently reminds him of why he’s here. ❝if only your little wish were my command…but i’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, dear. besides, wouldn’t you just love seeing me down on my knees dlya tebya, eh?❞

   taking a few steps back until her back hits the wall, she stands there - hands linked in front of her. it was a comfortable distance; close enough for them to converse, but far enough for him to not be able to reach through the bars. there's a feeling of smugness within the first lady as she watches him, and to be honest - it's justified. now with the power she held, he would finally get what was coming to him. plus, there was no way she would let a horrible person like him wander among her people. ' i think you'll find my ‘little wish’ it's the only thing keeping you alive, sir. ' she commented, raising an eyebrow at him. ' you'd do well to keep that in mind. '

    stardom has become less surreal to john; it feels like a suit he’s been forced to wear, fitted in all the right places, but crinkled from the over-usage. still, he feels out of place in it. no amount of fancy events, or awards, could make him feel anymore at home at events like this one. rub shoulders with the upper class, they tell him, enjoy it, it’ll be nice, and it is, for a bit, but the differences become apparent after awhile. you can take the boy out of liverpool, and you can comb his hair, sensor his language, and dress him up, but you cannot, ever, take the liverpool out of him completely. just as always, john found a reason to use that certain part of himself he discovered in his working-class hometown: the wit. 

    his almond orbs flicker upwards, away from the drink in his hand & up to the pretty bird. the ends of his thin lips perk upwards, forming a smile. ❛ i dunno, ❜ he answered silly, rising his eyebrows.  ❛ was yesterday but things always change, don’ they? what ‘ave ye ‘eard? ❜ 

    brian told him not to say things like that, but it itched at him; he had to. 

     ❛ a lot. ❜ it's the only answer the actress dares giving, leaving it up to him to figure out whether she means 'good' or 'bad' things. though if it was the second one - she wouldn't be in front of him introducing herself, would she? his face had been all over the news lately, the name 'john' almost always coming up when she would chat with other starlets; truly, his career and recognition was huge compared to hers. and to be honest? that was the sole reason she had taken interest in him; of course, he didn’t have to know that. reaching out her hand towards the musician in offer after a moment, she gives him one of her most charming smiles; she was already confident that this conversation would go incredibly well. ❛ i'm eva, eva duarte. it's... really nice to meet you. ❜

a frown shadows his exuberant features, albeit he does manage to keep this surge of dismay from actually causing any troubles he might have to fix later on – merely clicking his tongue as to at least bring it to her attention how rather displeased this resistance leaves him. ❝do you really think playing this slozhno dostat’ would get you anywhere with me? don’t be so harsh with your pretty little self, dorogusha,❞ he all but purrs while almost simultaneously drawing the blade over her throat, just rough enough to provoke a delicate mark of blood.

     another whimper it's drawn from her lips when he, once again, slides the knife against her skin; leaving a trail of blood in its path. the actress feels like screaming, but whether it's from pain or just simply out of the frustration this situation brings to her; she doesn't know yet. still, as long as she could help it; she wasn't going to give him that kind of satisfaction. eyes remain squeezed shut, and while she doesn't utter another word; it's pretty clear what she would say to him if she did. screw. you.

it had all happened too quickly for him to even protest, one minute he’d been roaming the streets and the next he’s surrounded by a bunch of ridiculously violent policemen – there’s nothing much laszlo remembers after it, probably having been beaten unconscious and now opening his eyes to the awfulness of a prison cell. groaning does he tend to his wounds, scoffing at their view before something else catches his attention – the voice sounds familiar, and when he looks up would he immediately recognize her again. gritting his teeth, laszlo quickly annihilates the distance, jolting a hand through the bars to wrap it around her throat.

    as soon as he jolts forward, the first lady jumps back in fright - and really, that's the only thing that caused his hands to be unable to reach her throat. his presence, this whole situation; it only made her angrier. she's never been so sure about a decision such as  the one she made the second she found out he was in her country; as long as she had the power to do so, this man would rot in jail. ' save your energy, sir. ' she stated after a moment, her voice harsh. you're the one in charge here, eva - not him. ' you're going to need it to pray. '

he breathes an approving hum at her quite fearful reaction, leaning away ever so slightly to take in this mesmerizing view of her features. ❝did somebody tol’ko tell ya how beautiful you are?❞ the question is tossed rather casually, light blue eyes returning to the blade which he, as though by accident, now sinks into her skin in the most careful manner. watching her blood emerge from its depths ever so hesitantly, laszlo exhales a shallow sigh, and putting his finger to the delicate wound does he brush it over her throat in a horizontal line, smiling again at the glaring woman. ❝krasivaya, don’t you think? …now give me a smile, wouldya – i’m not gonna hurt you all that bad…❞

    the only response his compliment earns it's a scoff, disgust surging through her. if he was really going to do this, if he was going to keep her here... - then she would rather if he did it in silence. his words & his voice only made the situation worse for her, in a way - after all, both were enough to send a shiver down her spine. suddenly, the blade sinks into her skin; and while it's not deep enough to cause serious damage – it's enough to draw blood & a whimper of pain from her lips. she loathes this situation, she loathes him - & boy, she can't wait to wipe that smile off his face when she ends up escaping. ' oh, shove it. ' she managed to say, leaning her head back & closing her eyes. words like that had gotten her in trouble in the first place, but she can't help it.