The Cate Blanchett Case {Cate Blanchett}

5~The Dance

"How did you get into acting?" The question was mundane and not at all what I wanted to ask. I wanted to talk about the rumours and Andrew, getting to know Cate was a priority but one I didn't want to prioritise.

"Uh-I hadn't really thought of acting up until a certain moment in my life, I'd originally studied Art History in Melbourne. It was only when I turned 18, on a trip to Cairo, one of the guests there gave me an opportunity to be in an Egyptian boxing film," she smiled softly, remembering things from her past that seemed to have uplifted her spirits.

"I think I realised that actors had the power to move people and leave a lasting impact, when I realised that I decided I wanted to pursue acting as a career," she told me, leaning over to take her wine glass and have a small sip of it. "I like acting because it isn't about me, it's about letting the work speak for itself, it isn't about me or my perspective. That's what makes it as thrilling as it is,"

I smiled softly and she returned it, she didn't seem to be very arrogant like most people would label actors as. She seemed very down-to-earth and just genuinely happy to provide other people with a source of entertainment.

"What about you? Why journalism?" She asked me, running a finger around the rim of the wine glass she held, her curiosity peaking as I chuckled and then sighed. Her blue eyes scanned me, her lips curled into a small smile as she watched me think about my answer.

I wanted to be honest with her, but the thought of becoming friends with her and then ruining it pushed me to not tell her the entire truth. "I like writing and, like you, I like to let the story speak for itself. If it's a good story I shouldn't have to make my opinion direct the readers opinion, I may have an opinion of something or someone but whatever anyone else thinks is much more important," I told her, picking up my pen from beside me and tracing small circles on my hands.

Cate grinned at our common belief and I hesitated, had I said too much? What I'd said hadn't been a lie, I'd just left part of the reason out. Despite all of my worries I found myself returning her happy smile, her spirits seemed to have lifted upon discovering a like-minded person and I felt a sense of pride that I'd managed to indirectly cheer her up.

"What is you opinion of me?" She asked, the smile becoming playful as she watched me. I could hear the silent question she'd asked, really she wanted to know whether or not I thought she was a cheat or not.

I played along and smirked playfully, pretending to not hear the unvoiced question. "Well, I think you are a good mother and I think you are very strong," I smiled, indirectly answering her question, leaning away from the public and the divorce.

She scoffed lightly and I could have sworn I saw a slight twinkle in her bright eyes. "Strong," she snorted, "well it's very nice of you to say so, Thalia," she said, putting down her glass and folding her arms across her stomach. "I think you have a good head on your shoulders, I also think that we are going to be good friends," 

I smiled happily, it would work out either way. If she was my friend it would be easier to get information out of her. "I hope so," I told her, I didn't detest the idea of her being my friend, I just didn't want to be too close in case the rumours about her were true.

I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my hair and asked another question, wanting to keep the conversation flowing. "How old are your kids?" I asked her, watching as her eyes lit up at the mention of her kids. It warmed my heart to think how much she loved her kids, they clearly loved her just as much.

"Dashiell is 20, he's the oldest and he should be taking care of Iggy and Edie but he must be showing Roman his silly video games or something," she chuckled and briefly looked over to the living room archway, as if waiting for one of her kids to pop through. "Roman is 13, he's such a sweetheart. Ignatius is 9 and Edith is 6," 

It was such a beautiful thing to witness, how much love she held for her kids. At least she had them throughout this difficult time. I knew my comment on what a good mother she was did make her a lot happier.

"Do you have any kids?" She asked me, her eyes snapping to my own in curiosity.

"Oh," I chuckled and held my hands up, "oh no," I shook my head, I'd be a disaster having to look after myself and a kid. 

Cate quirked a shaped eyebrow and smirked, "do you not like them?" She asked, resting her elbow against the arm of the couch and supporting her chin on top of her hand.

"I don't dislike them, I just don't think I'd be a very good parent. I'm not very far in my career, honestly, this is my first story," I confessed, I couldn't get control of my mouth. Why had I told her that?

Her face broke out into a wide grin at the information, she put her other hand against her chest and fidgeted with a silver necklace she was wearing. "Wow, you're very professional. I'd have thought you'd done this countless times," she complimented and I smiled modestly and shrugged, "in that case, I'm honoured to be your first," she winked.

She was very forward, I hoped that her winking wouldn't be a common thing. I didn't fancy having to divert eye contact every time she did something so flirtatious, it wasn't that I liked it, it just didn't help her case and I also didn't know how to react to it.

Upon seeing me divert my gaze she let out a loud laugh, I looked up to see her throw back her head and chuckle as if seeing me become flustered was funny. When she stopped laughing she looked at me and smirked once again, "You really don't like that, do you?" She asked me, the gradual change in her mood made it apparent that she was becoming more and more comfortable with me. 

"I'm not a prude, Cate, I just don't think it helps your case," I hated to be brutally honest and see her smile drop swiftly, but I also hated being embarrassed. I almost immediately regretted it upon seeing her reaction, it was like seeing a brick wall appear out of thin air. The wall slammed into existence and blocked me from seeing what she was feeling, shit, maybe I wasn't as good as I thought I'd be.

Well, no matter, I'd learn from my mistakes. I just had to learn the choreography of the little dance we seemed to be playing, her moves were passionate and open, mine had to be discreet and brief otherwise she'd lose all trust in me.