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Rehearsals had been kicking Eleanor's ass and she couldn't remember the last time she'd set foot outside without having to go to, or leave, dance class. She'd moved from spending most of her time at the academy, to the local theater in town. She didn't really mind as much as she felt the need for a break: Not that this kind of break was something she'd claim counted.
She'd been assigned the task to talk to some kind of reporter. They'd desperately needed some media coverage for their upcoming classical ballet show: Cinderella.
Patience had never been a virtue of hers and she could feel herself growing restless as she waited in line for it to be her turn to order. Her brown eyes darted around the room, hoping to see anyone that'd fit the description. The coffee shop was fairly empty, as most of the people seemed to take their coffee to go. By the entrance, there was a lady with a small baby. She doubted that was the right person. Close to the counter, there was a middle aged guy who looked at her like she was a piece of rare steak; God, she hoped that wasn't the guy.
Ordering her coffee, she pursed her lips.
A group of teenagers sat at the back. Neither of which looked old enough to have finished high school. Which meant there was only one option left: The guy who looked like he belonged to a show like Downtown Abbey.
"Wonderful." She exhaled as she moved towards the table he was sitting by.
With the move to the States, Brodie thought there would be a little bit more excitement in the mix. His resume built him up like a god, but news had been slow. So slow, that he was doing an interview about a ballet playing at the local theatre. It wasn't his usual work, but he'd take anything given to him, and he'd turn it into a brilliant piece.
A small orange cup sat at his table, carrying the bitter condensed taste of espresso. Next to it sat a camera most opted not to use; film. It was his preferred medium. There wasn't limitless shots to take up. Every one mattered.
He hadn't been there for too long, having arrived a little early when his eyes caught someone who matched the description. He lifted the top page of his pad of paper, catching the name he had written down. Eleanore Bennett. Twenty-one. Brunette. Dancer. It wasn't much to go off of, but she looked like a match compared to the rest of those that found their time at this coffee shop.
When she approached, he stood up, pressing a palm to his tie to flatten it out as he extended his free hand. "Miss Bennett. It's a pleasure."
She could only stare at the hand offered, a slight scowl caressing the corner of her eyes. Her eyes lifted from the hand and to the man who'd offered it. "Yeah, sure." Pulling out a chair, she placed her coffee down before taking a seat.
Politeness in the form of a handshake was a tradition Eleanor had never understood. Then again, there was a lot of things that held hands with politeness that the brunette didn't understand.
Placing the cup between her hands, she stared at the white foam as it mixed with the brown liquid underneath. Even that struck her as more interesting. "Go on."
There was an immediate attitude that Brodie hadn't expected, given the innocent face that stared back at her. As she sat down, his hand dropped, pressing to the table top as he returned to his chair. Strictly business then. Frankly, that was easier, anyway. Securing a pen, he flipped open his notebook before reaching over to a small handheld device, placing it between them on the table. With a press of the button, it started to record the audio between them.
"Please state and spell your full name, as well as your age." His accent did nothing to hide the flatness in his tone, bright eyes flicking down to his notebook. Barely any interaction, and he was already writing down notes.
She stared at him blankly for a moment. Was this really necessary? A sigh and the brunette took a sip from her coffee before speaking. "Eleanor Bennett. E-l-e-a-n-o-r B-e-n-n-e-t-t. Twenty-one." She couldn't help herself, really. "T-w-e-n-t-y o-n-e."
She tilted her head at him. "Measurements are 33-24-34 in. Dress size 4." She smiled at him then, the most sugar like smile she could possibly muster. "What else?" She tapped a finger against her cheek. "Ah, yes. My bra size is 32A." Was there a point to it? Of course not. But it was fun.
It was standard protocol, really. Brodie was always one to insure that he had everything covered. He hadn't looked up to catch that look on her face, but given her tone, it wouldn't have surprised him to see it. His eyes did lift when a series of measurements were offered to him, eyebrows raising from surprise, but not amusement. Could they have at least sent someone here who wanted to be interviewed. Most would kill for the opportunity.
"I'll be sure to include those details in this article, Miss Bennett," Brodie replied dryly. He set his pen down, lacing his fingers together as he leaned forward. "Shall we begin?" It was a rhetorical question. "I understand that you are part of the cast preforming Cinderella next month? Can you tell me, how does it feel to be part of a story highlighting the importance of a woman finding a husband? Especially in a time during the Women's March Movement?"
It was clear the man wasn't at all amused by her attitude, which was fine. Few people usually were. She wasn't exactly notoriously known for being very popular among her peers. Leaning back in her chair, the brunette tapped her fingers against the warm cup.
"It feels great. Makes me want to drop out of school and go hubby hunting myself." She offered him a 'what can you do' shrug. "I mean, he is rich." Yeah, they really gave the poor guy the raw end of the deal, sending Eleanor here. What had they been hoping to accomplish? She was clearly not the right woman for the job.
"Who doesn't want to live in a fantasy castle and have a fairy turn your shoes into glass?"
It was actually humorous how against this interview she was. Brodie had to wonder who thought it was a good idea to send someone so bothered to do this? Did they know what good publicity was? It would be far too easy to write up an article going into negative details. He could wrap this up in minutes and have three columns in by the afternoon. Though, who didn't like a challenge.
"So you're in school," Brodie denoted, picking apart her sentences for his own benefit. He pressed the small ceramic cup to his lips, taking a sip before picking up his pen again. "Still in high school?" Despite just having her say her age, he couldn't help himself with that one. "What is the age range of those preforming in this show?"
She simply nodded. There was little else to be said about that. Though, it didn't seem like the guy was quite as boring as he'd given the impression to be. She almost smiled at his quip. Almost. "Yeah, I'm a twenty one year old still in high school. They loved me so much they didn't want to let me go." She was really that charming, after all. "Anywhere from too young to know any better and too old to have much of a choice."
Really, she should have cared more. She knew that. After all, dancing was the only thing that made her care. Though, it didn't matter much to her if it was in front of people or just her alone on a stage. Maybe that was why.
"These questions sound awfully generic. Are you sure you're good at your job?"
Every statement she offered was laced with sarcasm; sarcasm that could have easily been twisted. Fortunately for the dancer, Brodie believed in genuine reporting, even if he'd have to dig it out of her. The end of his pen tapped against the paper, exhaling heavily at the question posed. Now she was just trying to bother him.
"I'm here to gather facts. How I present them is what makes me good at my job." There really wasn't need to defend himself, but the statement came more of a warning than anything else. "I'd ask you more, but it appears you have no desire to give a real answer." Brodie leaned back in his chair, offering a few more fast paced taps of his pen. "Now I'm not going to lecture you on how poorly you represent your dance facility, Miss Bennett. However, it would be unfortunate to see how they react to your interview, were a copy of this recording sent to them."
For safety, he reached out for the recorder, securing it. "They seemed to care greatly about this interview; I can imagine that they wouldn't be impressed by this. Perhaps even enough to remove you from the program."
His threat, because that was exactly how the brunette took it, had the corner of her lips quirking upwards. Instead of laughing at him, she simply stared at him, eyebrows rising as her head tilted. Did he really think she cared? She assumed the people sending her here was well aware of how much of a bad idea it would be. She wasn't exactly the kind of person anyone used to be their poster child, after all. Though, perhaps that was exactly what they wanted. "Go ahead." She simply answered. She didn't dance for the fame. She danced because she enjoyed it. She didn't need a show to do that.
She only did it for the extra credit. There was little else to be lost from this.
"If they truly cared, they wouldn't have sent me." She stated simply, as if that was already made obvious. Which it likely was. "What else do you have?"
This girl really didn't care, and it drew a light, bitter laugh out of Brodie. He let go of the recorder, leaning back in his seat as he finished off the espresso before pushing the cup away from himself. "So you don't care." He pointed out the obvious, letting his head bob from side to side as he thought of how to continue. He wasn't afraid to send the audio file to the instructor that had first contacted him, but that was almost too easy.
"Why don't you?" He really didn't sound as if he was trying to dig deep, but more out of general curiosity. "Or really, why bother showing up here at all?"
"Clearly." She watched him, head tilted. She wondered if it was really that hard for him to wrap his mind around, or if he was simply that curious. She supposed it didn't really matter. Though the question had been rhetorical, she couldn't quite help herself from the sarcastic reply.
It was second nature by now, after all.
Her eyebrows rose then. "Why should I?" Did there really have to be a reason for her not to care? Did she need some deep psychological reason that when uncovered, would reveal the deep depths of her soul? His other question brought a smile to her lips, though. "That's the million dollar question, isn't it?" Did she even know herself?
Brodie leaned back in his chair, putting an ankle up on top of his knee before he let a smile take to his features. It seemed that this girl didn't seem to know how to have a real conversation, given her constant sarcasm and inability to really answer a question. It was interesting, to say the least. He wondered how she got to this point in her life. "Well then, I'll consider this portion of the interview closed." He shrugged his shoulders, folding up his notebook and setting it in the leather shoulder bag he carried.
"I suppose we should go to the studio now, if you're still willing to let me photograph you dance." Technically, it was never part of the agreement arranged, but he did need something to publish before the show took stage, and he was curious to see how her personality reflected on the stage.
