[He's confident in his assertion, but how to put that into words that would reach Vil in this state, where he's hiding behind his own mask? This feels important, like if he messes this up, if he says something wrong, all of this ends. Cater Diamond is a glass in Vil Schoenheit's immaculate hand. One twist of his fingers and the stem could snap and be rendered useless.
Cater's eyes flicker down and away before he thinks of something and meets Vil's piercing gaze again.]
I hate sweets. [Knowing it seems like a complete topic change, he only gives it a beat before continuing.] But my Magicam is full of them. Cute colors, smiles, a carefree boy who lives in the moment, who can be friends with anyone...that's the role I was given. It gets to a point where so many people identify you in a certain way that it feels like letting them down to show anything else. So you adapt into it, no matter how much you hate it, because that's what's expected of you.
There's a sea full of people out there who think they know me, but they just see what they want to see. What I let them see. And if I have a sea of people doing that, you have the whole world. I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pressure--the weight that such a character puts on you.
[It's hard enough being happy all the time. Being a villain? It would certainly crush him.]
You wear it like a second skin, but everyone has their tells, no matter how subtle. I see it in your eyes when you're cast in another movie or TV show as the villain when you were hoping for something different. In the disappointment and the frustration with your agent. In the corners of your smile that don't turn up quite as much. In your careful wordings announcing your next project--grateful for an opportunity but never excited.
[Aren't you tired, Vil? Tired like he's tired? Cater's hand carefully touches the back of Vil's, dragging it down from his chin to his neck and leaning in.]
...but I could be kidding myself. If I am, just squeeze.
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[He's confident in his assertion, but how to put that into words that would reach Vil in this state, where he's hiding behind his own mask? This feels important, like if he messes this up, if he says something wrong, all of this ends. Cater Diamond is a glass in Vil Schoenheit's immaculate hand. One twist of his fingers and the stem could snap and be rendered useless.
Cater's eyes flicker down and away before he thinks of something and meets Vil's piercing gaze again.]
I hate sweets. [Knowing it seems like a complete topic change, he only gives it a beat before continuing.] But my Magicam is full of them. Cute colors, smiles, a carefree boy who lives in the moment, who can be friends with anyone...that's the role I was given. It gets to a point where so many people identify you in a certain way that it feels like letting them down to show anything else. So you adapt into it, no matter how much you hate it, because that's what's expected of you.
There's a sea full of people out there who think they know me, but they just see what they want to see. What I let them see. And if I have a sea of people doing that, you have the whole world. I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pressure--the weight that such a character puts on you.
[It's hard enough being happy all the time. Being a villain? It would certainly crush him.]
You wear it like a second skin, but everyone has their tells, no matter how subtle. I see it in your eyes when you're cast in another movie or TV show as the villain when you were hoping for something different. In the disappointment and the frustration with your agent. In the corners of your smile that don't turn up quite as much. In your careful wordings announcing your next project--grateful for an opportunity but never excited.
[Aren't you tired, Vil? Tired like he's tired? Cater's hand carefully touches the back of Vil's, dragging it down from his chin to his neck and leaning in.]
...but I could be kidding myself. If I am, just squeeze.