You have to admit, if you'd seen the premise of this thing without the passionate introduction by Smith, you would've rolled your eyes and passed on the script. Even the name, Skyward, seems a bit questionable, but Smith insists that it fits thematically - or at least, it fits better than any of the other titles they came up with, their creativity hamstrung by existing movies taking all the good potential titles. A science-fiction military tale, centered around the classic cliche of an alien invasion spurring humanity to do something horrific. In this case, it was aggressive and terrifying bio-engineering, mutating normal people into super-soldiers, with all the moral questions and body horror that came with that.
Pushing aside any burning questions about what his childhood favorite video game series might be, you listen intently as Smith lays out the scene for you. It's a one on one conversation, an intense lovers' quarrel as the character you'd be playing, Michelle Danvers, is suffering through a painful stage in her enhancements. Opposite Michelle is Wynonna, Michelle's longtime girlfriend and a staunch opponent of pressing people into becoming superhuman killing machines. You're about to make a joke about Rob reading for Wynonna and finally getting her to be his girlfriend, only to be cut off as someone else enters the room. The sight of her very nearly makes your jaw drop.
"You're Kate?" she greets you cheerfully, extending a hand in a gesture you immediately return, nodding. "Farah," she introduces herself, "Great to meet you!" It staggers you how she can so casually step into a room and say hello, as if she doesn't realize she's the most drop-dead gorgeous woman alive. She's a fit, well-endowed woman, with beautiful Arabic features framed by a long, soft mane of black hair. It's apparent she's been on the job, probably shooting scenes that didn't feature Michelle, but the effort has done nothing to dampen her confidence nor spirit. If you met her in a bar, you'd have been slamming back one shot after another, in the hopes that you could garner enough liquid courage to go over and flirt with her.
Instead, you're left to try and focus on the scene as Farah sits down. Smith wastes little time in getting you both set up, encouraging you to lay your arm out and follow along with the same physical motions called for by the script; your body language is just as important as your line delivery for this role. You oblige, laying your arm out and positioning the script as if it's the meal you're supposed to be picking with your other hand in this scene. You even make little motions as if you're moving a fork around, drawing a brief giggle from Farah before she slides back into the more melachonly mood of her character. It amazes you to think that someone this bubbly could be playing a woman who was supposed to be depressing. In any case, though, Smith pulls back and claps, offering a shout of "Action!" to set you off.
The scene starts out with an awkward silence, giving you a chance to focus on pretending to poke and prod at a plate of an appetizing meal growing cold. There's a few quiet clearings of throats between yourself and Farah as you deftly mime distinterest in a dinner that isn't there, broken when the gorgeous woman across the table speaks up. "My cooking still that bad?" Somehow, Farah has shifted from sounding peppy and excited to sounding like she's completely given up on life. The woman's clearly got range, and it instantly gives you a surge of inspiration for your own response.
"Afraid it might bite me." By this stage in the film, Michelle is supposed to be haggard, worn down by experimentation and brutal training. You speak your lines with an appropraitely weary tone, along with your own hint of defeatism mixed in with the attempt at a joke. "Sorry. Injections, uh..." You shrug, your eyes briefly glancing over to the arm laid out on the table. For a fraction of a second, you swear you can see the swollen veins and needle marks that are supposed to be on Michelle's forearm at this point. "Takes away your appetite."
Farah sighs, shifting her jaw around, before she mimes plunging a fork into her own half-eaten meal. "Yeah. Guess that makes sense." There's a moment of hesitation as she ponders keeping her mouth shut, but the rest of what she wants to say comes spilling right out. "They take your time, your health, your career, your sense of right and wrong-"
"Wyn, please-"
"-why not take your fucking appetite too!" She pretends to drop a fork, leaning back in her chair with visible frustration that momentarily makes your chest hurt. "Just let me know when they're gonna take your tits, let me say goodbye to those!"
Farah is glaring at you like she wants to punch you in the face, and it hurts. It truly, genuinely hurts. You find yourself averting your eyes, trying not to meet her furious gaze - it seems like it might be a trick to keep reading the script, but you're not even glancing at the pages for more than a second before you reply. "Wyn, I am... very, very tired." The exhaustion is apparent in your voice. "Please, can we just... have the fight in the morning, for once?"
"We're not having a fight," Farah spits back, one eye twitching slightly. "You're too busy getting turned into a killing machine to fight with me, right?"
You lean your head back, eyes shut tight as your shoulders slump. "I can't help how long I'm stuck in training, or getting checked over, okay?" You swear you can feel your arm burning, and let out a small groan to accompany the sensation. "I promise, tomorrow night, I'll try and get home on time."
"Forget it." The rage is turning to ice as she stands up, perfectly imitating the motions of taking her plate over to the sink. "Do whatever. Shouldn't have said anything." You can't help but feel an ache in your chest when you watch her walk around, fixated wearily on the way her hips move and the perfect shape of her rear end. How convenient that your character is suppsoed to have the same sort of gaze for the woman Farah is portraying.
You quickly return to looking up at her, though, as her own gaze is now averted downwards at an imaginary sink. "So... do you want me to spend more time with you, or not?"
"You said you didn't want to fight tonight."
"Yeah, and I don't want to go to bed with a raging bitch tonight eithe-"
You stop suddenly as Farah mimes hurling a plate into the hard floor of the kitchen. In your ears, you swear you can hear the ceramic shattering, even closing your eyes momentarily to keep them safe from tiny bits of white material getting flung everywhere. When you open them again, Farah is leaning against a countertop that isn't there, staring daggers right at you - but now, you feel frustrated, and the frustration emboldens you even as she shouts. "How about you keep doing whatever the fuck you want? I mean, God, clearly my input doesn't mean shit."
The burning in your arm picks up in strength as you suppress a growl. "Wyn, I'm not quitting, so you can go ahead and knock off the woe-is-me shit. It's not gonna work."
"Of course it won't! Nothing I do is going to change your mind!" She huffs. "How dare I even have opinions, instead of just shutting up, looking pretty, and going along with whatever the fuck Mikey Danvers thinks is best!"
"Wyn..."
"I'm just a big dummy, I'm too stupid to know that the military is the bestest thing ever!"
"I never said that..."
"I need to just be quiet, right?! Stupid silly idiot Wynonna should just stand there and smile while her girlfriend asks the government to shoot her up with alien shit and piss!"
"Please stop..."
"God fucking forbid that I might have objections yo you turning yourself into a fucking freak!"
There's a loud, sudden crack as you stand up, the arm that had been splayed out slamming into a table. It feels like it's on fire as your fist digs into the wood, the sound and fury as you stand up causing Farah to yelp back, eyes wide with terror. You're too pent-up to consider the fear in her gaze before spilling your own guts. "You think the peace sign in the yard is gonna stop those fucking things?!" You're screaming at her, your whole body trembling with rage and bizarre muscle-building chemicals in equal measure. "They won't stop up until we're all dead, or they are! It's not my fucking fault you can't get your head around that!"
You're both on the verge of tears - and you both get pushed over the edge as you continue screaming at Farah. "I fucking did something! I stood up and said, no, I'm not just gonna let them roll over everybody I love!" You have to choke back a sob. "If you're gonna hate me for it, then fine! Fucking hate me! At least I made sure you're fucking alive to hate me!"
Both you and Farah are breathing heavy as you collapse back into your chair, face pressed into one hand as tears stream down. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, and you feel like it's going to come apart at the seams. It's quiet, nothing but subdued sobs, until the other woman slowly walks over to your chair. You glance over, vision blurred by the anger and hurt and tears, as she reaches out, massaging your injected arm, feeling up the thickened and powerful muscles within.
"I'm sorry." You're not quite able to respond with the same two words. "I... just... I don't... want to lose you..."
It takes all the effort you can muster to respond. "Hey, when they're done... we're 'sposed to be... unkillable, basically."
Your words are meant to be reassuring, but Farah looks up at you, and you instantly know - that wasn't what she meant. She quells the urge to say anything further, instead leaning in to place a trembling kiss on your lips. You want to enjoy it, you want to return the kiss, send your tongue plunging into her mouth... but all you can do is sit there as she touches her forehead to yours, both of you too exhausted to let anything else out.
It holds for a moment before you suddenly snap back into awareness, Farah pulling away and letting out a heavy breath. Your arm doesn't have the burning sensation anymore - but god, a part of you sure does as you think about that kiss. "Whew!" the other woman shouts, her peppiness returning in spades, "Jeromy, if you don't cast this woman, I'll never forgive you!"
"Oh, don't you worry!" the director is gleeful, and Rob looks over the moon as Smith leads him out of the room. "She's got the part - let's talk salary and schedules, I want to get shooting back on track here!" Your old friend winks as he departs - you can trust him to get an excellent deal for your first starring role.
Standing up, you grin at Farah, who gives you a big hug. It's hard not to blush at feeling her chest against yours - she really did have some blessed curves. "Holy shit, that was... whoof." She laughs, motioning towards the table. "You are gonna be perfect, and you're in the shape for it!"
Her motion causes you to look at the table, and you're surprised to find that there's a massive dent from where you slammed your first into it. You laugh it off, of course, figuring that one cheap table getting wrecked is no big deal... but you're not sure how you mustered up enough strength to do that kind of damage. It doesn't really matter, though, because you look back at Farah to find that she has a very particular sort of gaze now.
"Since uh, we're gonna be thrown in the deep end here, and working together a lot..." She reaches up to brush some hair behind her ear. "Maybe uh... maybe we should... go do some prep work... and I mean, it's gonna be... that's better done, uh, privately... maybe at my place..."
You raise an eyebrow and grin. "Are you... asking out your co-star?"
She blushes. "Well, I mean, if you're not into women, then... not like that, no, definitely not..."
"Oh, I'm as into women as they come." The words seem to make her heart leap right out of her considerable chest. "Just making sure."
"Great! Great, that's... that's great!" She quickly takes your hand, biting her lip at the contact. "C'mon, I'll drive."
You offer no resistance as she starts taking you out to the parking lot. As fearful as you were at first, this is turning into a dream come true. You have work, you're doing a film that's not pure garbage, you're gonna get paid decently... and the hottest woman you've ever met is clearly into you. The bizarre feelings you'd been getting during the reading, and the strangely powerful blow you made to the table, all falls away as you start thinking about all the things you want to do with - and to - the S-Grade beauty practically dragging you to her home.