[ let's have one thing straight here: manuela is, and has always been, a consummate professional. she did not reach her level of stardom and notoriety simply for her looks; for as much as she sparkled, she had the talent, both raw and meticulously honed, to back up every accolade she ever received.
a role like this, however embarrassing in its implication, is so easy it's laughable. it should have been a breeze.
but just as she was recovering from the curveball of finding a familiar face as her unwitting scene partner, he delivers her another one with a performance so earnest it honestly has manuela second-guessing who the seasoned actor was between the two of them.
the editors will find they'll have a lot more work to do to trim this scene into something properly presentable, because once again manuela is left mildly speechless, lapsing into a silence far too long to be appropriate for the scene. the way she briefly glances towards the cameraman, as if seeking his help to determine how to navigate such a declaration, will most definitely have to be cut out too. ]
Y-es, well...
[ she swallows thickly. bold declaration aside, the sight of the young man in so little clothing (she is far too used to seeing him done up like the noble he is; even during the war, he had taken pains to still look his very best, and that most certainly involved far more layers than this) that were as flattering to his musculature as it was distracting to her senses. ]
All the same. [ eventually, thankfully, she finds her footing again. she readjusts her position, lifting her arms to cross under her busy in an effort to look unyielding... while also purposefully drawing attention to the way her lacy bra can be seen under the open collar of her shirt. ] It's easy to say these things. It's another thing to truly mean them.
[ this is the part where she is meant to be so suggestive, so brazen, there would be no room left for confusion. grope at her breasts, pull up her skirt, tell him to undo his pants and draw out his cock, anything like that. the scene isn't meant to be a complicated thing; the premise is merely here for a backdrop, not actual motivation. the fucking was the focus here.
and yet...
and yet. there is a small, greedy part of manuela that thinks, now that she's got him here... not that she's got anyone here, clearly ready to spill sonnets (however bad at poetry he might actually be) about their devotion, how could she resist? yes, it's all just for a scene... but even actors can let themselves get lost in the illusions. ]
Why don't you tell me... exactly how you would give me your all.
no subject
a role like this, however embarrassing in its implication, is so easy it's laughable. it should have been a breeze.
but just as she was recovering from the curveball of finding a familiar face as her unwitting scene partner, he delivers her another one with a performance so earnest it honestly has manuela second-guessing who the seasoned actor was between the two of them.
the editors will find they'll have a lot more work to do to trim this scene into something properly presentable, because once again manuela is left mildly speechless, lapsing into a silence far too long to be appropriate for the scene. the way she briefly glances towards the cameraman, as if seeking his help to determine how to navigate such a declaration, will most definitely have to be cut out too. ]
Y-es, well...
[ she swallows thickly. bold declaration aside, the sight of the young man in so little clothing (she is far too used to seeing him done up like the noble he is; even during the war, he had taken pains to still look his very best, and that most certainly involved far more layers than this) that were as flattering to his musculature as it was distracting to her senses. ]
All the same. [ eventually, thankfully, she finds her footing again. she readjusts her position, lifting her arms to cross under her busy in an effort to look unyielding... while also purposefully drawing attention to the way her lacy bra can be seen under the open collar of her shirt. ] It's easy to say these things. It's another thing to truly mean them.
[ this is the part where she is meant to be so suggestive, so brazen, there would be no room left for confusion. grope at her breasts, pull up her skirt, tell him to undo his pants and draw out his cock, anything like that. the scene isn't meant to be a complicated thing; the premise is merely here for a backdrop, not actual motivation. the fucking was the focus here.
and yet...
and yet. there is a small, greedy part of manuela that thinks, now that she's got him here... not that she's got anyone here, clearly ready to spill sonnets (however bad at poetry he might actually be) about their devotion, how could she resist? yes, it's all just for a scene... but even actors can let themselves get lost in the illusions. ]
Why don't you tell me... exactly how you would give me your all.