[ shamefully, he slips back into his role with far more ease than manuela. the older of the pair cannot even so much as wipe the surprise from her face as the younger steps nearer, the cameraman's quiet warning completely ignored. too caught up in the conflux of emotions the shock of his presence invokes in her, manuela can do little to hide the way her honey-colored eyes almost well up with tears.
does he know? does he know how greedily she clung to the refuge of this awful place, all for the chance of forgetting about a war he himself was fighting so diligently in. when she speaks his name again, it's with the same softness she had the last time they parted (exactly a month before she had found herself here, now almost three in total). ]
Ferdinand...
[ from his seat no more than ten feet away from the pair, that crewmember sputters out a low sound — something meant to sound like a clearing of his throat, but the donut crumbs make it far clumsier than intended.
it's enough to remind manuela where she is though. or rather, what they're meant to be doing. and for all that she wishes to pull ferdinand aside and — what? explain herself? urge him to turn away? — she recalls she is here . and on the stage, she has always taken care to be a professional. one worthy of her achievements. ]
You're too late. I've already submitted your marks. Your coach will come for your jacket soon enough, so I'd suggest enjoying it while you still can.
[ there is a pause — one entirely made for dramatic effect, though if it also allowed her to steel herself for her next lines, no one would know but manuela herself. ]
...If only you had paid as much attention to my lessons like you do my body. [ now, her voice lowers into something less stern. something almost suggestive, if one were inclined to listen for it. ] You would have surely been my star pupil then.
no subject
does he know? does he know how greedily she clung to the refuge of this awful place, all for the chance of forgetting about a war he himself was fighting so diligently in. when she speaks his name again, it's with the same softness she had the last time they parted (exactly a month before she had found herself here, now almost three in total). ]
Ferdinand...
[ from his seat no more than ten feet away from the pair, that crewmember sputters out a low sound — something meant to sound like a clearing of his throat, but the donut crumbs make it far clumsier than intended.
it's enough to remind manuela where she is though. or rather, what they're meant to be doing. and for all that she wishes to pull ferdinand aside and — what? explain herself? urge him to turn away? — she recalls she is here . and on the stage, she has always taken care to be a professional. one worthy of her achievements. ]
You're too late. I've already submitted your marks. Your coach will come for your jacket soon enough, so I'd suggest enjoying it while you still can.
[ there is a pause — one entirely made for dramatic effect, though if it also allowed her to steel herself for her next lines, no one would know but manuela herself. ]
...If only you had paid as much attention to my lessons like you do my body. [ now, her voice lowers into something less stern. something almost suggestive, if one were inclined to listen for it. ] You would have surely been my star pupil then.