film noir (from ![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
15minuteficlets )
(Picture here.)
Schuyler squinted through the camera's viewfinder, panning down slowly off the distant stripe of the lighthouse dark against the fog, down to the dock where the actors were - long shot, slowly moving closer to show faces, the dim snail trails of tears down the female lead's cheek.
Oooh, nice. Emote, baby. That's the stuff.
Just as he was working out his thank you speech for the film festival award, she waved her hands in front of her face. "Goddamnit, can I take ten minutes here?"
He sighed, grumbling. "Cut! What is it, Amy?"
"Contact lens thing or something. Sorry, Schuy."
"Eh, no problem. Everyone take fifteen, okay? We'll pick it up later on page thirty-nine." He set down the camera and winced, turning around to find a sweater. It was cold and clammy and damp, and they'd been out here for three hours - making good time, but still. Any interruption was at least mildly irritating.
"Schuyler, can I be in the movie?"
Schuyler jammed his sleeves into his black fleece sweater and glared. He had not asked for this, which was a hell of a lot more than 'mildly irritating'. He did not have time to entertain family, and especially not annoying little seventeen year old sisters wearing Hello Kitty t-shirts that thought that Citizen Kane was some kind of candy bar. "No, Kismet, you cannot." Why couldn't she have decided to go to college somewhere else? Why did she just have to tour UCLA, and why did this mean that he was responsible for her welfare? He had things to do. He had a movie to make. Thanks so much, Mom. Yeah.
"Why not?" Kismet looked disappointed, all big green eyes and black corkscrew curls that went crazy in the damp fog and baby-of-the-family pout.
"Because I've already cast the movie and you're not in it."
"I could just be a crowd person."
"There are no crowds, Kismet, it's an allegorical drama dealing with death and the afterlife. There are three characters. Angel, Delilah, and Everyman. Angel and Delilah are fighting over the soul of Everyman. What, you're a crowd of one? Don't be ridiculous."
"You could put a crowd in. They could be in a crowd. When he died."
"He dies alone, Kismet."
"Why?"
"Because," Schuyler replied through gritted teeth, "life is like that. We're all alone. Every damn moment of every damn day. It's all loneliness and pain and agony and strife. That's what the world is about. There are no crowds. There is no cotton candy, there is nothing. Just ... meaningless life. And an empty, cold death. Which would be preferable ... to dealing ... with you."
Kismet looked a little hurt at that, and fell silent. Schuyler sighed and picked up his shooting script.
"So where are we having dinner?" she spoke up again.
"I don't know."
"Can we go to the Hard Rock Cafe?"
"No, we can't. It's too expensive."
"I have money! Mom said I should take you somewhere nice. To thank you and everything."
"Oh, all right." Schuyler sighed. "Sure. We'll go to the Hard Rock Cafe. Whatever."
Kismet threw her arms around Schuyler's neck, nearly knocking over his folding chair. "You're the best brother ever! You always were my favorite brother."
"Mmm."
"That's why I wanna go to school here, you know?" Kismet smiled. "So I can be out here and spend time with you. Won't that be fun?"
"Sure, yeah." Schuyler shrugged. "Whatever. Hand me that pen, will you?"
Schuyler squinted through the camera's viewfinder, panning down slowly off the distant stripe of the lighthouse dark against the fog, down to the dock where the actors were - long shot, slowly moving closer to show faces, the dim snail trails of tears down the female lead's cheek.
Oooh, nice. Emote, baby. That's the stuff.
Just as he was working out his thank you speech for the film festival award, she waved her hands in front of her face. "Goddamnit, can I take ten minutes here?"
He sighed, grumbling. "Cut! What is it, Amy?"
"Contact lens thing or something. Sorry, Schuy."
"Eh, no problem. Everyone take fifteen, okay? We'll pick it up later on page thirty-nine." He set down the camera and winced, turning around to find a sweater. It was cold and clammy and damp, and they'd been out here for three hours - making good time, but still. Any interruption was at least mildly irritating.
"Schuyler, can I be in the movie?"
Schuyler jammed his sleeves into his black fleece sweater and glared. He had not asked for this, which was a hell of a lot more than 'mildly irritating'. He did not have time to entertain family, and especially not annoying little seventeen year old sisters wearing Hello Kitty t-shirts that thought that Citizen Kane was some kind of candy bar. "No, Kismet, you cannot." Why couldn't she have decided to go to college somewhere else? Why did she just have to tour UCLA, and why did this mean that he was responsible for her welfare? He had things to do. He had a movie to make. Thanks so much, Mom. Yeah.
"Why not?" Kismet looked disappointed, all big green eyes and black corkscrew curls that went crazy in the damp fog and baby-of-the-family pout.
"Because I've already cast the movie and you're not in it."
"I could just be a crowd person."
"There are no crowds, Kismet, it's an allegorical drama dealing with death and the afterlife. There are three characters. Angel, Delilah, and Everyman. Angel and Delilah are fighting over the soul of Everyman. What, you're a crowd of one? Don't be ridiculous."
"You could put a crowd in. They could be in a crowd. When he died."
"He dies alone, Kismet."
"Why?"
"Because," Schuyler replied through gritted teeth, "life is like that. We're all alone. Every damn moment of every damn day. It's all loneliness and pain and agony and strife. That's what the world is about. There are no crowds. There is no cotton candy, there is nothing. Just ... meaningless life. And an empty, cold death. Which would be preferable ... to dealing ... with you."
Kismet looked a little hurt at that, and fell silent. Schuyler sighed and picked up his shooting script.
"So where are we having dinner?" she spoke up again.
"I don't know."
"Can we go to the Hard Rock Cafe?"
"No, we can't. It's too expensive."
"I have money! Mom said I should take you somewhere nice. To thank you and everything."
"Oh, all right." Schuyler sighed. "Sure. We'll go to the Hard Rock Cafe. Whatever."
Kismet threw her arms around Schuyler's neck, nearly knocking over his folding chair. "You're the best brother ever! You always were my favorite brother."
"Mmm."
"That's why I wanna go to school here, you know?" Kismet smiled. "So I can be out here and spend time with you. Won't that be fun?"
"Sure, yeah." Schuyler shrugged. "Whatever. Hand me that pen, will you?"