(Untitled)

[wickedlywest]

Who: Sebastian Han (WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST) and Quentin Ambroise (WIZARD OF OZ)
What: Quentin catches up on the status of the Ribbon film adaptation, finding someone surprising now at the helm.
When: Sometime shortly after Quentin's glorious return.
Where: A conference room in the New York offices of the Miramax Film Corp.
Rating: PG for seething

Comments

[wondrouswizard]

Sebastian's eyes were heavy on him. Even as he shook the hands of many men, the knowledge of Sebastian's presence in the room lingered in his mind and shook their names and faces from his recollection. These men, obsessed with image, did not notice the slight hesitation in Quentin's voice, nor the slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that gave away that absentmindedness so unnatural to his character unless-

Unless he was troubled. If there had ever been a moment that Quentin Ambroise was troubled, it was now.

He was not afraid of the ways Sebastian would pervert his book. He knew, ultimately, that was the Witch's goal-to dwell on it would be counterproductive. That tiny twinge of fear-the one that he so desperately smothered down-was from knowing what advantages Sebastian now possessed over him. From across the table, Quentin flashed Sebastian a smile that admitted his temporary defeat. He hoped it would serve as a proverbial redherring.

Ribbon was a deeply personal book for Quentin. It was not so much the events that transgressed within its pages, nor its characters, but the ideals and emotions that they had been created from; his hopes and fears. Now they rested in Sebastian's hands, to extort and reveal, naked and in living color before an audience.

He nodded to Sebastian during his little monologue, but his mind was elsewhere, frantically sizing the director up. He was sure Sebastian did not fully realize the potency of what he had stumbled upon; more concerned with making Ribbon darker, more twisted than it was intented than getting inside of its author's head. He would hide the truth, not display it. With that, Quentin's smile broadened.

"Annyong haseyo. Mannasso pangawoyo," he finally said. "I'm flattered that you are interested in my little story, Sebastian. I have heard of you and your previous works in the revenge film genre. It intrigues me that you're willing to step away from that comfort zone to pursue this film. It must mean a lot to you."

[wickedlywest]

Quentin's little acquiescing smile was like heavenly manna to Sebastian - it bolstered his resolve and lifted his spirits, and almost made him seem giddy as he made his measured speech. He cocked his head to the side to invite - almost challenge - Quentin to respond, though the smug smile faltered sharply as the Wizard greeted him in his mother tongue. Oh, Sebastian didn't like that. He didn't like that at all.

The grim look of open loathing flashed briefly and was gone, replaced again by the careful smirk. "Oh, it most certainly does. However, I don't necessarily feel that this need be such a significant step away from my typical themes. I think there is plenty for me to explore in the pettiness and cruelty of the Lemniscate. I've always felt connected to their worldview, as well as that of the Youngest. Whom, I might add," he raised a finger pointedly, his tone taking on the coyness of a seasoned showman making his pitch, "Certainly has an insurmountable capacity for vengeance himself. I feel that is an unexploited aspect of the character that certainly needs to be expanded in the film."

Again Sebastian cast Quentin that challenging look, while around the table the studio yes men murmured their agreement encouragingly, prodding Quentin with their eyes and gestures to join in on Sebastian's vision. Because if he didn't, they were in trouble.

[wondrouswizard]

Quentin could have said a lot of things. He could have made a lot of arguments; he had the whole book at his disposal to tell the room of men that Sebastian's interpretation was entirely wrong. If anything, The Youngest was the most unopinionated, filmsy characterization of the whole book; he was the reader's eyes and ears and very little else. There was no room for vengeance, no room for malice; only questioning and at the heart of it all, a deep sense of melancholia. But questions and melancholia did not a blockbuster make-naive as he was to the Hollywood industry, he at least knew that. His argument would fall on deaf ears.

So instead, he took a different approach.

"I agree completely. I mean, let's be honest-" he began, and then his voice shifted from that of a simple Kansas farm boy to the cynical mantra of those in the business, "Audiences love a one trick pony these days. Heaven knows, it works for Tim Burton. If you're good at something, why change? People have come to associate the name Sebastian Han with revenge films-to deviate from that would be your critical and financial downfall. Save your experimental films for Sundance, I say."

With that, he leaned back in his chair, hands folded. His tone, of course, had been his saving grace; what the room thought was outright agreement he knew Sebastian would see as a stab at his skills as a director. That same smile settled into his features. He was down, but never out.

[wickedlywest]

Sebastian maintained his challenging, self-satisfied smile, goading Quentin to object or complain or otherwise contradict his authority on the matter. He had an arsenal of experience and a familiarity with this world and its people that he was eager to lord over his bitter rival. So when Quentin went ahead and agreed with him - well, it looked as though someone had climbed up on the table and peed right in his Cheerios. If he had Cheerios, that is.

At first he looked merely stunned by the agreement - and then as Quentin leaned back into his chair and continued, his surprise melted slowly into restrained fury. His smirk faded and his lips pursed together, jaw tightening. Attention was on Quentin now, so nobody saw Sebastian glaring daggers across the table, his expression guarded and neutral, but his gaze rife with hostility.

He managed to stifle it as the execs all turned back to him, every one of them looking relieved and excited, and now doing their part to agree with Quentin and praise the like-mindedness of the two men. "Splendid." Sebastian answered flatly, the dripping smugness having left his tone. "I am glad that we are in agreement on this. I would discuss it further, but I fear I have a previous engagement." His eyes were still locked grimly on Quentin's as he stood, and with him the execs. "Gentlemen. Abroise." He nodded around the table, offering each man present a terse bow, before excusing himself from his room, likely to stick pins in his Quentin voodoo doll and think up new and creative ways to ruin the project.