milliways_bar | (no subject)

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So what happens when the mun wants to toss Angel at three separate entrance posts, but doesn't have that kind of energy right now?
Angel gets his own entrance post, that's what.
So: Couch by fireplace, pizza, fuzzy gender line - standard fare, for Angel. Have at.

(OOC: Tags may occasionally be slow, as am a bit scatterbrained and theoretically getting useful stuff done. But yes.)

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"Yeah, Val said something about you having steam coming out of your ears last night, or something. And then we got distracted by the TV."
Angel grins, at the comment about the film. "And is that even a manageable task, by now?"

"Er, yeah." Mark turns pink. "Strange by-product of the potion I drank. It went away after a while." Pause. "TV? There's a TV in this place?" He deftly side-steps the film-management issue.

...Angel's going to take that as a 'no, it's not possible' until corrected, you realize.
"Apparently. And the thing gets all kinds of weird shit."

Frankly, it's less possible than Mark realizes. Poor boy.

He raises an eyebrow, however. "Oh? And what kind of wierd shit does it get?" Pause. "And why were you watching TV anyway?"

"Started with this really horrible Spanish soap opera that my mother used to watch and got stranger from there. And the TV came up in the first place because it occurred to Val that the Osrics are televised."

Mark laughs, shaking his head. "I don't really want to know what some of the other things were. Multi-versal TV rather scares me." He pauses, and then turns slightly pale. "Oh, fuck, they are." Mark's head meets his equipment. "Lovely."

This'll be Angel not mentioning the interview Val ended up on, then.
"Oh, don't panic, you'll be fine. If nothing else, I can at least see for myself just how insane the Academy is these days."

This'll be Mark very glad. He's already pretending that didn't happen.
"Yeah. Well, you can at least see Steven Spielberg get his award. And perhaps if you're lucky, you'll see us all get out of a limo." He shrugs. "It'll be fucking weird." Pause. "And I bet they'll make me leave my camera at home. Damn."

"Not necessarily. I mean, if all else fails, Maureen's gonna get her own pair of tickets since she got nominated so you could say the camera's your date, right?"
Pure silliness, right there.

Mark picks up the camera and hugs it. "I really should take her. She belongs there. Maureen could take Joanne. Or, hell, probably half of Holy Wood."

And Angel cracks up. "But if you're hoping for a better relationship with Maureen this time around, are you sure you could do that without putting undue stress on things?"

"I'm being a brat, Angel. Maureen would so kill me if I didn't take her. Besides. I want her to be my date." Hell, there's a chance that even if she was still with Joanne, he'd try. "Camera might come anyway. Because, seriously. Film of the Osrics would be -awesome- to have."

"You sure they won't try to run you out of the thing for having it?"

"I'll deal. Adam would say that it's bad press to run someone out of something like that for carrying the tool of his trade." Pause. "Or something like that."

"And really, if they've watched the movie at all, they know how often you have the thing with you."

"No shit." Mark shrugs. "I don't know how much film I'd really take, but it would be amsuing to walk into the Osrics filming all the people taking pictures of me." And besides, it'll make him feel better.

And we have a gigglefit. Filming or taking pictures of people with cameras in front of their faces is just plain amusing, after all.

Mark smirks. "What? At least if I have my camera in front of my face, people won't see that I'm totally out of place there."

"Oh, you'll be fine, honey. It's not anything to get all worked up over."

"Only the biggest award in the film 'verse, really. Something that I'm not a part of anyway, and that I'm not even going to get." He shrugs. "Hell, I get to see Maureen in a formal dress. That's really why I'm going."

"May not want to tell the rest of the world that." Angel grins.

Mark laughs. "Adam would kick my ass if I did." He shrugs, then a little grin creeps across his face. "When I was little, before I realized what hell Holy Wood was, I dreamed of going to the Osrics. And now that I'm going, I don't want to."

"What, just because the Academy's silly enough to consider you for a mainstream award?"
And even as he says it, he knows that's likely the problem, the way Mark's been struggling with trying to keep the mainstream at bay.

"Right in one, as always, Angel." Mark sits on the side of the table that -doesn't- have film equipment all over it, and puts his face in his hands. "That's not the -point- of the film. It's not what I intended at all. It just all feels wrong. I've considered withdrawing from the nominations, pulling out of it, but Adam won't let me." Pause. "I feel like I've sold out."

"You haven't sold out. It's not your fault people don't quite get it. You just put something out there that you thought people needed to hear, and you did it your own way. My offer to kick your ass at the first hint of selling out stands."