You're Looking a Bit Green, But it Might Be the Limelight [Torry and Weddy]

He could feel the atmosphere buzzing. There was a tension tonight, a few hundred people present and their nerves going wild. They waited in apprehension, their minds whirling as they comprehended the event that was about to ensue. For some, this was a first. For others, this was not new, but an exciting premise for possibilities for hilarity and drama - two key ingredients for the chat show, he must admit.

The guests were expecting something great tonight, and who was he to deny them of that?

Arthur brushed his fingers through his hair, tossing the shaggy and unkempt locks out of his eyes - his best feature, said several women's magazines, though sometimes one or two criticised them for being ruined by the two dark 'caterpillars' (how unkind) that loomed over them. He turned his head, checking that the make-up that the ladies back-stage had shoved onto him was still intact. Heaven forbid there be any sight of a freckle or a tangerine effect around his otherwise pallid and perfect complexion. It was his suit that he scrutinised next, tugging at the lapels and straightening the cuffs and twisting the cuff-links and re-tying his tie. He had to be the epitome of perfection in the public. Proper, decent, but also absurdly too good for anyone. It made people even more excited, his agent assured, when he exposed his somewhat endless flaws.

Five minutes, someone told him with a knock on the door. By this time, he would have been expected to join the other guests in the green room. But no; his exactness was an art. He would arrive precisely on time. Or perhaps, even late. Perhaps he would explain to the ladies and gentlemen that he had just finished a cup of tea and they could bloody well wait for him. Though as entertaining as that would sound for the cameras, it was at least out of character. Or, potentially not.

He tapped the glass of the mirror in front of him and stared at his gruffed reflection. "Oi," he muttered to himself. "Cheer up, love, and do your best. The world will be watching once again, won't they?" - as if that was meant to give him comfort. His expression dropped and he rolled his eyes, as if becoming annoyed by the sound of his own voice, contradicting what he actually thought. "...Good luck, indeed."

23 year-old actor Arthur Kirkland, born in Stratford-Upon-Avon, England, graduating from University with a degree in Theatrics became an official actor as a child during several years of West End shows. He later starred in a few Broadway hits in New York, which led him to being noticed and accepted into the Hollywood acting industry. His first Hollywood movie starred him as a second-class act to the Hero, a sidekick but never quite in the limelight. It was not till he was cast, at the age of 20, as a villain in a blockbuster action film that he was significantly noticed -- or so his wikipedia page quite correctly said. Since then, he had been noted for his superb competency to play twisted and devious characters - those with marvellous plots for revenge to those with natural visions for villainy. He never once suited the hero role, and it was never given to him. He was born to be both loved and despised in one breath - a maverick for darkness, but one that people cannot help but be drawn to. His own fate settled in that significantly tipped and off-set balance.

Arthur checked the clock in the room, and he arose from the velvet chair he had been placed with in his dressing room. His assistant was awaiting outside, and she belted up to try remind him that he was almost late. Late? No, he arrives precisely when he means to. He walked straight past her coldly, leaving her in his dust without a word before he found the way to the green room and stormed straight in without even a 'hello' to any other guests. He waited for his name to be called by the host, preparing himself for a few more hours of the endless act.

“Five minutes,” Someone called, though Alfred hadn’t really bothered looking at this point. The young star was too busy trying to calm his own excitement down at this point. Perhaps it wasn’t a trait found in most weathered and experienced actors, or anyone who danced in the limelight, really, but Alfred couldn’t help himself. A make-up girl came around and brushed some sort of powder onto his face for what seemed like the seventh time in the past three minutes, and Alfred forced himself to stand still or else face the wrath of his manager (wherever the poor soul had wandered off to) if he so happened to ‘ruin’ yet another suit jacket via make-up disasters, but the longevity of this ‘calm’ was shorter than his attention span when he was three.

Nervous? No, never. Nervousness wasn’t something that really came to Alfred, not too, too often at least. The first years of his stardom had gone by and the novelty was somewhat going down, but it wasn’t an energy that was a part of nervousness. He thrived from these sorts of things, though perhaps not as his PR seemed to thrive from the publicity the accompanied such events. His backing push wasn’t due to the great things it did for his image, though it was a rather well and satisfying side-effect. No, there really was one important thing on his mind at the moment, the driving force that kept him going to these events no matter how disastrous they turned at times.

The fans.

Alfred loved giving back to the fans. He held them dear, revered them and still couldn’t quite believe his luck. He wanted to share, to show and tell and give those people who waited so patiently and giddily something back for all the love and support throughout the years as he was struggling to even make it to the spot he was in today, even if it was a few words about a movie that was hardly even in the works. It wasn’t just a chat show, not just silly questions and answers when they made the days of some people. It was more, much more and Alfred loved it. After all, some of these people had stuck with him back when before when he didn’t have a random ‘F’ in the middle of his name for stage purposes. So if it came down to little appearances, sporadic tweets and pictures, Alfred would do it.

And that seemed to make all the difference. He enjoyed these types of things. Thrived from the attention now rather than dreading them like a lot of stars seemed to eventually feel towards their public appearances. There was no scorn, no chance of unwanted gossip or scandals, nor devastating news. This little shindig wouldn’t go south, not when here was this energized.

Or so he thought, but as the time drew closer, as the camera crew hurried around and the host settled back up on stage, something, or rather, someone was missing. Now, it wasn’t completely crucial, Alfred had plenty to talk about that was for sure, but there was reason behind the selected guests on the show. A movie promotion. A special sneak peak, an inside exclusive given by the leads of the show.

Plural.

Just as Alfred was beginning to perhaps sweat (not wanting to let down expectations even by something he couldn’t control) the person to whom his worries had been placed upon finally seemed to, well, ‘grace’ him with his presence. It was cutting it close and the man didn’t seem like he held any regard for anything, let along the show or why they were even here. If the name that was called out hadn’t been said, well Alfred would have been able to tell who the other was simply off of attitude alone.

Arthur Kirkland.

Now Alfred wasn’t one to judge, certainly not so early off and more so considering they would be working with each other. Perhaps he was simply running late and was so distressed by that that he didn’t have the common courtesy to even spare a hello before walking out onto the stage. Even so… well, that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard what the rumors were. Kirkland, the man so frigid he matched the villainous role he played, perhaps even played them off of experience. Living rather than acting they said. Weird and cruel fantasies come to life on the silver screen.

No matter, though, it wouldn’t daunt him. His brow unfurrowed and soon was replaced by an award winning grin. Excited to have to chance to work with someone so… renowned. He repeated that in his head as he walked onto stage when his name was called. It wasn’t a lie, but he certainly hoped the other was more of a joy to work with than he let on. He’d just have to get through this interview before he could figure out how the other worked.