Running Away To Save Your Life.
Things of note at the moment:
my arm still hurts like a bastard and I cannot lift it above my head at all, despite downing two Aleve this morning. Doing my hair up in a bun was an interesting experience I never want to repeat. Fuck.
watched some old Woody Woodpecker cartoons this morning for nostalgia's sake and catalogued the following: two
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The next series of answers about Channing and Jamie's relationship go like this:
"I think they are spending the holidays together, but I am not sure about this."
"Jamie said something about possibly starting a dance school with Channing? I think that it what I heard."
"Channing told me that he and Jamie are adopting a Pekinese together. They are going to name it Mrs. Mopsy and enter it into dog shows."
He says it all with a straight face, frowning over words every once in a while to appear more genuine, and the press reports on it with a fervor that startles him. He does not understand it, but then, he is just an actor, he supposes. It is not for him to understand the ways of the media and the nature of the 24-hour news cycle.
He's back home in France doing interviews for a new project with one of his favorite directors when his phone rings in the middle of a sit-down with a reporter from a local newspaper. He gently excuses himself and takes the call. "'Allo?" he asks, curious.
"You wanker," Jamie spits out, sounding torn between irritation and admiration. "Mrs. Mopsy? And fucking dog shows?"
"'Allo, Jamie," Tahar says, grinning as Jamie calls him an utterly filthy name in that incomprehensible accent of his. "How are you?"
"Pissed at you," Jamie retorts, and Tahar laughs. "What the hell are you doing telling everyone that Channing and I are adopting a dog? And a Pekinese, for fuck's sake, those things are ugly. Have you ever seen one? They're hideous."
Tahar shrugs. "I was merely trying to entertain myself," he says blandly, and almost laughs again when Jamie makes a frustrated sound.
"Get fucked, Rahim," Jamie says, his accent getting thicker, but he sounds like he's trying not to laugh, and Tahar can't resist teasing him.
"Is that not Channing's job?" he asks, voice mild, despite his amusement.
After a moment's pause, Jamie snorts, then breaks down and starts guffawing. "I'm going to box your ears off when I see you again, you arsehole," he says, and Tahar grins.
"Maybe if we ever work on a movie again, oui?"
"Maybe even sooner." Jamie sounds smug, which Tahar knows is never a good thing.
"Quoi?" he asks cautiously.
"Yeah," Jamie says, sounding pleased with himself, "Channing and I have decided to take a vacation in France before our next project. Expect the unexpected, fucker. We're coming for you."
Tahar laughs, and uses the only expression that would fit this situation; ironically, one that Channing had taught him: "Bring it on, mon ami."
His response is a giggle and then a dial tone, and Tahar carefully hangs up his phone and goes back to his interview. If he knows those two as well as he thinks he does, he's going to get surprise guests in a few days. "Now," he says, smiling over at the reporter who has been waiting patiently at the table, "where were we?"
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