orion mitchell

List of Orion's Character Tropes

Boytoy™

Reforming Con-Artist

"'I'll never be like my father' says man who followed in father's footsteps"

Big Brother™

Pretty Boy™

"After nearly killing woman, man realizes he's gone too far to break up with her"

Secret Unlawful Talents

Well-Trained Boyfriend

"Man Unsurprised to Learn Father was Killed by Mob"

Recent Conscience Owner

Something to Prove™

"Sins aren't as bad as man claims study reports"

Inherited English Accent

“I imagine I’ve managed to miss him,” he begins, knowing quite well he’s missed him. Fabian’s schedule is routine to a fault, as much as his pension for adhering to every minute policy that has happened to be written. He’s taking his chances that Birdie will be more lenient. “Is there a chance you’d be able to pull something for me, if I were to repay you with lunch perhaps?”

“well gee— when you put it like that!” she’s turned down every television role so far without hesitation. what was important to gather the big names, to get every individual auteur to understand just who they were dealing with so they knew that it was their loss if they didn’t help her get to the a-list. but now she has the backing of those names, she has the filmography to show she has put in all the hard work for her title. and this isn’t just the brady bunch, this is prestige. a miniseries, a movie stretched out with space for people to really luxuriate in the scene they were given. and she has to admit, the company backing does sound like a smart move at this stage. individual people were less and less reliable as they grew comfortable. they needed a shake up! 

“just one more question—” paging through what she’s been given, reading the character description, assessing it against what she’s done already. there was always a brand to be maintained, even if her agent didn’t always remember. “it’s just the one season right?” verbal assurance wasn’t everything, but it was worth its weight in blackmail. “i don’t really think i can promise you the next decade of my life, you know how it goes!” 

So it is business in the end. To Orion, he has more of an upper-hand in that territory than any other. Creativity is one thing, and it can be remarked as being priceless, but priceless is just a nice way of saying penniless most of the time. He knows this intellectually and practically in both senses with equal experience, and he has no problem using this to his advantage. Besides, isn't that what he does best? Use things to his advantage, even if those things are made of flesh and blood?

One more question pauses him for a moment, makes him absorb her more in his sights while he listens carefully. She doesn't intend ten years, and he's not looking for it either. The world plays on again while he offers her an assuring smile. It sounds like he's gotten what he's come for. "For now, it's one season," he agrees. "If you like what you see after we’re done, we can talk about a longer relationship."

His hand now holds his pen. Montblanc brand, 18k gold accents, another gift that is part of everything Orion currently owns or is on loan. In the moment, he settles on ownership with only an extension held out for Eloise to borrow for the sake of a written agreement in the paperwork he's already passed to her under script.

"All I need right now is your signature," he explains, "and I'll be able to deposit the points into your account by the time it’s dry."

a laugh catches in her throat, as though she’s probing to be sure it’s okay before committing. an interesting subversion to the loud and limitless humor she used to find in everything. it’s not uncomfortable, just different, a pull over to the quiet side of life. who was allowed to laugh openly at the women paying the bills, not even the boyfriend it seemed. cal remington moves further from her mind, along with whatever weird agenda harlow pulitzer has. 

“jacqueline irons.” she really is jumping into this world head first, trying to keep up with a hundred extra names that have found their own slices of real estate. last names to be picked up now were made of wrights and welles. and irons, two of them. she nodded, trying to connect dots where she should have already done the research. “i mean it’s not really just tv is it.” she figured no star really wanted to stoop to something that could be sent to endless reruns. that was just good business, keeping their brands as illustrious as possible. “prestige work in long form drama, something like that. aren’t we really just trying to hook them?” he seems sure about the rest of the cast anyways, so there must have been some angle to sell. “she’d have to sweep award season at that level.”

There is something to what is being reminded to him. With the right words, anything is possible, but the Irons are a sharp clan. They've been in the business longer than he's been alive, and the amount of tricks they don't know is slim to none. Still, he has handled challenges before, and by all accounts have succeeded in them, as well. That's not food for thought that he's trying to swallow at the moment, though.

"The only part that gives me slight pause is that she's notoriously... difficult." The final word ends in a hanged breath. He believes, by now, he can trust Tally to the extent of voicing what is already heard, especially when that deals with another not in the room or even adjacent to the Pulitzer studio block itself. "At the end of the day, is it worth the possible headache." It's really a question he can only pose to himself, but the insight of another is not exactly unwelcomed. His jaw shifts with a last thought before attention lies on his assistant once more. "Could you set up a meeting today?--Hopefully at a time when you're not too busy to join me? I think having you there might be more to my benefit than here."

ORION’S IMMEDIATE FAMILY TREE

Tanner Mitchell || Father || FC: Noah Wyle || Grifter/Con-Man || Location Unknown || Deceased

Miranda Albright || Mother || FC: Connie Nielsen || Forced Out Abandoned Her Family || Location Unknown

“right…” she assembles the pieces as he hands them over to her. an override from the system meant harlow or bridget, not her actual boss. that was good to know, gave her time to ignore it rather than trying to adjust the points balances to fit another person. “well listen, he’s a real hit with the mom crowd.” but he’s not fooling everyone for trying to pass for thirty, and besides from what she’s read of the script that’s taken over their office, there is something a little too serious to be considered the cal remington fair. “doesn’t that guy usually do like period pieces anyways?”

she wouldn’t think of him at all if it wasn’t for the occasional rerun. but she’s not exactly the prime subject. apparently harlow pultizer is, as if there were ever enough hours in a day to unpack that. “nah. i think you’ve got a good grasp on it.” she knows whatever she’s going to say is less interesting than what’s on the phone, but she figures its worth a shot anyways. as long as it’s just the two of them in the room, the talking seems easier anyways. “i mean you only need one or two a listers for it to be considered prestige tv instead of just normal stuff.” she’s no critic, but that sort of thing seems like a pretty safe bet. “so bardot balances mitchell.” four leads just meant that they needed four stable people. “as long as you get someone good for the other lead which— i mean bellamy’s probably a no but you can always hope.”

Perhaps the less he says about Cal Remington the better. It's not that there are any feelings towards him precisely, but hearing about him constantly can cause a person to grow a certain fondness for silence. He gives Tally an expression that translates this as much as it can without the words to dress it properly, ending with a silent release of breath to wash it away. "You may have to resort to Harlow for a complete filmography," he replies, a hint of a joke with a slight smile to accompany it before they return to work, taking his seat at the desk while eyes draw back up to her.

Her assurance should make him feel better than it does. He has done enough to gain approval from Bridget, but he's learned from experience it's not as hard as it first appeared to be. It leaves personal approval. What he can do that is better, to make sure there is success at the end, a way to make his mark forward in his own name. "Bellamy playing Bardot's mother is as likely as Cal Remington playing her love interest." He ponders for a moment before a tap of the fingers against the desk signs a thought. "If one A-lister could become two... that would be most helpful.--Two Irons. Charles and Jacqueline? She'd work well for Adora in a perfect world; though, as far as I know, she's not keen on television roles."

“always.” is that such a bad thing? sometimes you know what you want before you know what that thing really is. two favors sounds better than one, and there’s no shame in pretending. and there’s no reason to assume that she can’t get them. she wasn’t really planning anything, but it sure was nice to think so. 

he elicits a laugh, something in between her fake one that she and harlow practiced in front of the mirror for parties and the real one. as though she’s not sure where to yet place the man in front of her. “i know when there’s more than one person in my room though.” a crew would be crowding in, trying to make the observatory look like some fake fake thing, when in reality it was just fine the way it was. didn’t need a movie to try and convince people of its worth. some things were just naturally perfect the way they were, experience was a teacher. “i don’t know about noisy, but nosey you’ve got.”

"I'm not a nosy Parker." He's far from being insulted. It shows in the twist of a smile, even when his vision keeps her in sharp focus, defending his placement in this universe that is quickly being acknowledged as hers. "This is my job, and I'm exceptionally good at it," he goes on, levity growing in his tone while he takes a few steps in passing observation. "You have some blame in this. You could try to be a little less interesting instead of mysteriously lingering around abandoned properties. It raises a few questions."

His shoulders shrug slightly, perhaps partially from the way his hands slide into his pockets. This game could be played with them tied behind his back. "Am I the first you've shared all this with? There isn't someone else you've brought along before?"

“oh.” sweet, saccharine even, without going any further to correct him. they are all the same. that isn’t the point, and it’s not something she’s going to say in the presence of someone offering her points and a role. orion mitchell thinks he’s different. at least he knows he would be wasting his time trying to belabor the point. she’s all but mastered the smile of thoughtless listening, but it is somewhat nice to not to have to display it so early. 

she took the script from him, scanning the pages for each character name, counting who would speak where. who speaks the most. “am i camille?” she pushes past the flattery to the facts of the matter, though blinking up with him nothing but curiosity. she not sure if he’s aware how boring this season is shaping up to look, or if he really wants an icon on his show, but either way it seems to be shaping up for both of them. she’d hate to ruin such nicety.“i’d be alright with that.” perhaps it’s rushed, some might even say impulsive. but it’s not every day that someone with this kind of studio backing tries to rig the game, and she does love the word arrangement. “are you sure you can support someone of my status?”

He waits for her. He has learned patience is a virtue. It grants you special favors in return while you watch to see what the next move you're required to make becomes apparent. She will either like the role or she won't. One will be easier than the other. He's put behind as much strategy as he can: presented her with the part of the script that highlights Camille the best, the longest airtime, the most impactful scene, along with the points that can soften the concerns that'd come with the alternative reaction. Eventually, he has his answer when it comes to interest. The rest is business, or it has always been business for them both. That's not his place to care about unless it benefits.

"I think I might be somewhat insulted by the question," he tells her, a balance of joking lightness and the proper amount of incredulousness that defends the Pulitzer brand. He's long past wondering what he'd do without his connection to one of its heirs. It leaves him in a position of confidence, knowing better than anyone the power of his beneficiary. "Another director only has their personal account to draw from typically. On top of that, Prometheus has limits when it comes to individual deposits. I have the support of an entire network. Is that something you'd rather not have on your side over a film that could waste your time for months with no return?"

bidding. before it was nothing, something people mentioned as they passed around drinks and topics. it was easy to ignore, actors needed work, who wouldn’t. but now it was a still point in a turning world, a mark on the calendar that could not be ignored. they needed the correct points to go to the correct people, there needed to be the smallest percentage possible left to luck and chance. for so long her life had been the opposite— she was trying to adjust quickly to the care involved. it always started with the little things. like getting coffee right every morning. 

she nods at his thanks, already grown wary of the continual you’re welcome that this job seemed to convey. her smile compliments the gesture more than words could before she pulls off the sticky note pressed to her belt. “eyes on santiago’s project, if kinney doesn’t get pulled then let you know. keep accounts for bardot and mitchell in the event they drop. and…” she squints at her own writing as though unsure what should could have meant an hour before. “i got an email to add remington to my watch list? was that a late night call?”

He almost corrects. He almost says Chase's name instead of the name they both share. But he shouldn't. He won't. This is business, even though the fact stings him. His brother is now a contract, and all he can do is give Tally a belated nod of the head. He understands. He hears her. She's just doing her job. And she does it well. Besides, in some way, he can have a reprieve from one additional note that causes him to narrow his eyes.

"Not from me." He doesn't sound surprised, located somewhere between a sigh and a groan before he breathes in. His vision flickers back to her, a tone that edges almost on sympathetic. "I'll ask Harlow not to bother you after hours, especially with things we have no control over at the moment." Sharp Objects is his main project, and where Cal Remington could possibly fit into it, he doesn't know, nor wants to try to figure out. "I don't suppose he can pass for a thirty-something." There'd be a huff of a laugh if he was in better straights, but a look is simply flickered in her direction before his phone is finally felt again in his hand, returning it to his pocket. "It's not too late to do a final push for bids." Is he talking aloud or asking for opinion? A moment passes. "You're around the targeted demographic for the series. What do you think so far? Is there someone I'm overlooking for this?"

“sarah kinney.” she enunciates every syllable of the name as though that will make it more important to her or any more likely to be remembered. it didn’t conjure much, but she didn’t mind believing orion. “the scream queen of the silver screen.” relationships were built on all kinds of trust and fun, and they were going to have to find a way to have some new types of fun. could work really be that? her sponsor told her the key was to beating addiction was to find something to replace it. 

she’d had to remind them that she wasn’t technically an addict, but no one there really listened. silly of them. she was only technically a twin.

“well look at you! always keeping up!” the age ranges certainly sound very precise and orion always seemed to know exactly the next right thing to say. he wouldn’t have said that she was an addict, he needed four actors. “you don’t have the points for it?” a tsk tripped off her tongue, although not towards him. “who’s locked you out of the funds— and how much do you want?”

Maybe it's too judgmental, or maybe it's too ignorant, to not expect her to know who Sarah Kinney is beyond the rubberstamp title of contract. A sliver of a smile joins his tilted head; he can make conversation without falling into habits he's attempting to distance himself from. "I didn't think any of her work would be to your taste." He still doesn't think so. Is it a question to see what more she knows or is there personal curiosity?

The desk between them acts like a buffer, a place for him to stand behind while he watches her on the other side, a little praise thrown his way, along with something more. He's accumulated points, kept them on reserve for insurance, but it's a drop in the ocean that is the Pulitzer account: a useless thing when the password has been changed and the fingerprint on file removed.

"Should we guess who?" he asks, molds it into something humorous and without ill-will, at least the latter approaches closer to how he feels. It's not funny, but he understands, brushes it aside in place of business. "For it to be split between four contracts, four thousand should do well." There are some contracts that will never reach that amount in their lifetime, others that would kill for it. They're speaking in numbers that are only numbers, not the difference between life or death. "The recent win will also provide some leverage."

she has few things in this world that are hers. mostly because there is no need to keep secrets, her privacy always a shared space for two. but every so often there are people places things that harlow has lost interest in, leaving them for her to keep or discard as singular entity. the observation deck is one such place, removed from everything and left for bridget to ordain alone as important, special, all hers. a film production wasn’t going to take it away from her, it must be given. 

“there’s a difference between you,” perhaps it was the fact that he’d found this place at all or maybe it was something she hadn’t labelled yet, “and you bringing a bunch of people. those productions can be noisy.” messy, crowding a space that she had chosen for herself. and maybe one other person, but certainly not two. “what’s a favor or two?”

"Are you already planning a second before I agree to the first?" A grin starts to form, slowly, faintly, etched in the edges of the eyes that rest on her. "A bit presumptuous," he tells her, head tilting as if curious by her, but there's a lot more to her that he knows than she could possibly know about him. He doesn't have far to fall, even on the observation deck he's standing on; she's at the top of the Hollywood hills, feet bolted down, impossible to knock down. The perfect combination.

"Besides, you don't know how noisy I could be if I have to be," he goes on, teasing with an arched brow, a threat made of silk. "I could distract you while they're working. We're not exactly enjoying the view in silence, now."