You are a hardworking young actor that catches a big break, resulting in you attending your first big awards show. Among the famous faces you see that night: Tom Hiddleston. You only ever intended to admire him from afar, but he has different plans...
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Your feet hurt and you're losing patience. Richard was supposed to be on your side and let you wriggle out of your schedule if it looked like you might miss Tom altogether. Instead he seems to be marching to Mark's orders. Mark! Who is more than likely already at home, in bed, sound asleep.
Or not, considering the pained expressions that keep appearing on Richard's face every time his phone emits a ding. They're emotions you're mirroring. Frustration. Annoyance. Exhaustion. "What am I, pulling double duty. PR too?" He was muttering to himself, mostly, but you heard him all the same.
The next time he shoves his phone in his pocket again you catch his eye, "Ok. We've been seen. I've mingled a bit. Obligation fulfilled?"
Richard exhales, his lips pressing together as his jaw works. He's just doing his job. You're just making his job more difficult to enjoy, as usual. He tips his head towards the center of the room, swallowing his first reply before he raises an eyebrow at you, "You know the answer to that."
When you shake your head in response and adopt a light frown he moves in closer, sidestepping to be able to bump into your shoulder to better turn your focus, and your body, more fully on the room. It's busting at the seams with people from the industry out having a night on the town. The music doesn't quite overtake the hum of conversations, of laughter, of people enjoying the company of one another – having met up with someone they were seeking.
If only you could do the same.
"Look," Richard dips his head, angling his chin slightly towards you as he speaks in low tones, trying to keep eavesdroppers from catching every second of your conversation. He keeps an eye on the room, on the people pushing through the crowds to get from point A to point B. "I know this isn't like the last show you attended. Not dancing the night away with..."
"That's not—" You start to protest, scowl growing deeper as you, too, watch the room. His vigilance is catching.
He jostles your shoulder again, cutting you off and pulling your focus to him. "It is, and you know it. And I know you want to go find him." He pauses when a fan approaches, and aids in the capturing of the experience by snapping the photo of both of you on their phone. It's only after they leave, on to catch a moment with the next actor to catch their eye, that he continues. "Y'know you could give me a little credit."
It takes a second for you to pick up the point in the conversation the pair of you had been having. "What?"
"Just saying." Richard shrugs, "Maybe try to enjoy yourself a few minutes here and there? Let me worry about finding Tom. Getting you two in the same place at the same time."
"What?" Oh look, you've become a broken record.
Richard scrunches up his face for a moment, "Between Mark checking in every five minutes because you're only plastering on that fake damn smile every time you think someone's turning a camera your way, and the traffic here keeping Tom one venue behind us, at least..."
