( to be honest, he finds this sort of thing so damn gauche. he thinks about refusing but... well, something changes his mind. what that is, he wouldn't really ever say; it's his business and no one else's, and that is simply that. what he will say, if asked, is that he finds the situation favorable, that for this ridiculous display for someone else's entertainment, he at least is paired with someone he... likes spending time with.
the script is god awful and has him second-guessing his decision to follow through with this farce. but, he's going to work with what they were given. maybe it's something they can laugh about later? ( doubtful, he's probably just going to be annoyed later, but he can deal with that then. )
so, that's how he finds himself in a ridiculously small pair of black swim trunks that just barely manage to keep his modesty in tact. even though this is a fake movie set, the fact they have something to mimic sunlight is, he sighs to himself, tragic. so, he's demanded to have sunglasses to help the brightness and glare of light off the pool.
because, yes. sylus, big bad feared boss man of the n109 zone, is playing a pool boy to manuela's rich, lonely, housewife. there are worse things he could be, probably.
currently, sylus has one knee pressed into the cushion of the lounge manuela is laying on, slightly kneeling over her as he slowly rubs sunscreen into her skin. his touch lingers and just the tips of his fingers gently glide down the slope of her neck before sweeping over a shoulder blade and down her side. he leans down closer to her, amusement coloring his tone as he murmurs, )
I don't believe this is part of my job description, Mrs. Casagranda.
u kno why i'm here
the script is god awful and has him second-guessing his decision to follow through with this farce. but, he's going to work with what they were given. maybe it's something they can laugh about later? ( doubtful, he's probably just going to be annoyed later, but he can deal with that then. )
so, that's how he finds himself in a ridiculously small pair of black swim trunks that just barely manage to keep his modesty in tact. even though this is a fake movie set, the fact they have something to mimic sunlight is, he sighs to himself, tragic. so, he's demanded to have sunglasses to help the brightness and glare of light off the pool.
because, yes. sylus, big bad feared boss man of the n109 zone, is playing a pool boy to manuela's rich, lonely, housewife. there are worse things he could be, probably.
currently, sylus has one knee pressed into the cushion of the lounge manuela is laying on, slightly kneeling over her as he slowly rubs sunscreen into her skin. his touch lingers and just the tips of his fingers gently glide down the slope of her neck before sweeping over a shoulder blade and down her side. he leans down closer to her, amusement coloring his tone as he murmurs, )
I don't believe this is part of my job description, Mrs. Casagranda.