Daniel ticks his gaze up from where he's doing a proper thanks-blah-blah now, which would look normal if not for where he's crossed out the dedication and written a name that isn't Rakesh. Covered sunset meets— what? Well. His eyes look like nothing in particular, just outlines, but who knows what color they are.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it," he says. A final glance at his handiwork, then to the employee. "He's got a point, which makes me think he might know a journalist or two already. We're not sensitive enough for fiction, and we're too stubborn for acting. The thing that keeps a reporter from flinching is probably 60/40 ego versus nerves. On average."
Who knows what Daniel's split is. He closes the book, and looks back at Armand. Slides it over.
no subject
Daniel ticks his gaze up from where he's doing a proper thanks-blah-blah now, which would look normal if not for where he's crossed out the dedication and written a name that isn't Rakesh. Covered sunset meets— what? Well. His eyes look like nothing in particular, just outlines, but who knows what color they are.
"Oh, you don't know the half of it," he says. A final glance at his handiwork, then to the employee. "He's got a point, which makes me think he might know a journalist or two already. We're not sensitive enough for fiction, and we're too stubborn for acting. The thing that keeps a reporter from flinching is probably 60/40 ego versus nerves. On average."
Who knows what Daniel's split is. He closes the book, and looks back at Armand. Slides it over.
"Thanks for coming in."