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Post by hannahbarnes on Apr 16, 2007 19:30:51 GMT -5
It seemed like Hannah was the only person in the world that felt like catching a movie tonight. Naturally, her friends had bailed on her so she figured that she would go see something at the theatre to amuse herself while her friends were off getting drunk without her. Tragic, really. Hannah wasn't a big smoker, but she did like her liquor occasionally, and tonight she felt like getting absolutely smashed. She had spent all day hammered out a shitty article for her boss, and she had a killer headache from writing, revising and re-writing all bloody day. Luckily, when she had handed her paper in her boss had thought it was fantastic. Hm, at least she seemed to be moving up the journalist totem pole, if there was such a thing. The blonde woman had even been assigned to cover the main events at the Tombstone Festival, which was a huge event that usually went to the biggest writers in the business. Of course journalists from Rolling Stone and the like would be there, but the fact that she and only a few others had been chosen from her small independent music magazine to report on this chain of concerts made her all warm and fuzzy inside. Aww, I know, the warm fuzzies. Got to love them.
At around nine o'clock at night Hannah made her way into the movie theatre, paying the price of a ticket and a small Sprite as she made her way into one of the many theatres. She had picked the movie Grindhouse to watch, that crazy double-feature by Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez. She was a big fan of both of them, although moreso Rodriguez for his movie Once Upon A Time In Mexico. Yeah, she'll admit it, she only watched it in the beginning because it had Johnny Depp in it, but she ended up being fascinated by the crazy Mexican culture and all of that. So, yeah, Grindhouse seemed an obvious choice, especially since everyone seemed to be raving about it. Too bad it was sucking nuts at the box office. Poor Tarantino and Rodriguez. Who can say no to a crazy lady with a machine gun for a leg? ...well, not Hannah, but apparently a lot of other people.
In the middle of the previews, Hannah entered the theatre, sliding down quickly in a seat in the middle of the very back row. There was no one in front of her, so she put her feet up on the seat-back in front of her and slid her small Sprite into the drink holder. Her blonde hair had been tied up in a messy bun, but as she leaned her head back against the wall behind her, she was annoyed by it pressing against her head. Leaning forward while her legs still remained on the seat in front of her (she's very flexible, you see. Four years of gymnastics when you were like seven will do that to you), she untied her hair and let it fall in bright blonde waves down her shoulders. She had felt very tired this mornign so she hadn't bothered to straighten her hair. She had showered last night, so she just wrapped her bedhead of wavy hair in a bun and ran on the door to hail a cab. Luckily, being up all day had caused her hair to maintain some kind of shape, so she didn't completely look like a greasy-haired hobo girl. Contrary to popular belief, the Mary-Kate and Ashley Boho vampire chic isn't in right now. Or ever, for that matter. Hannah looked up at the screen as the theatre lights dimmed, semi-anticipating the start of the movie. Her mood was suddenly sobered by the fact that she was at the movies by herself. Kind of - scratch that - really pathetic. The blonde vowed to kick her friends' asses for going otu to party without her. Maybe she needed some new friends. Exhaling a slow breath, the girl shifted in her worn-out movie seat in a vain attempt to make herself a little bit more comfortable. Unfortunately for Hannah, it didn't work. Turing her brown eyes to her drink, she grabbed it and took a sip before putting it back and returning her attention to the film playing in front of her. Ooh, death count so far: fifteen. Damn! That's even better than Once Upon A Time In Mexico, so far. Rodriguez, you have certainly outdone yourself this time.
[Sorry for any typos, I wrote this up at school and the keyboards are awful, and people keep "checking up on me" so I can't spend much more time here. XD]
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 17, 2007 17:36:31 GMT -5
William was bored. Very, very bored. Bored enough, in fact, that he decided to see a movie. Alone. Because his band abandoned him, and everyone else was busy. Hmph. And so, since he decided to see a movie and he had already seen Disturbia, his other choice was Grindhouse, for whatever reason. It had looked pretty cool in the commercials he kept seeing, so he figured he'd give it a try. He tugged at the end of his brown jacket, looking around before ducking into the already darkened room. He headed for the back, seeing as you nearly had to break your neck to see in the front and the middle was completely crammed. He made his way to the very back, so he didn't have to walk infront of people and obscure their view. He scurried to the seat he saw, seating himself beside a blond woman. He directed his attention to the movie, already seeing that the death count was rather high. He smirked to himself, looking over at the blond again. She looked familiar... hmm. He furrowed his eyebrows, trying to remember why she looked so familiar. Actress? No, not it. Musician? ... nah. Maybe a journalist? Mm, that seemed more fitting. Even though he knew it was totally bogus to talk during a movie, he knew it would bother him until he knew. "Do I know you from somewhere? I swear you look so familiar to me," he whispered, examining the side of her face a bit closer (seeing as she wasn't facing him.)
ooc// ick, hahah. Best I've got. |
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Post by hannahbarnes on Apr 17, 2007 17:49:57 GMT -5
Hannah was actually paying attention to the movie instead of napping or staring at the ceiling, which was quite an accomplishment for her. Most movies couldn’t really hold her attention for that long, let alone three and a half hours. I guess that’s what you get when you combine Tarantino with Rodriguez. She was momentarily distracted, though, by shuffling coming from her left side, near the aisle of the theatre. She glanced over, squinting in the darkness to see who it was. Giving up after a couple of seconds, she turned back to the movie and crossed her arms over her chest. Hmm…more dead people, more guns…this was definitely the type of movie you saw by yourself. Blood, gore and violence never really bothered Hannah, which oftentimes set her apart from her friends. She had gained an iron stomach from watching network TV like Bones and Supernatural while eating dinner late, around eight or nine o’clock. A couple of nights of severed heads, decomposing bodies and vampires and werewolves, and if you couldn’t hold your food by then you might want to switch the channel. Luckily for Hannah she had gotten over it, and now she could pretty much watch anything without being grossed out, but her friends still squealed when people got shot in movies. Pfft, I guess that’s what you get when you’re friends with a bunch of bubbly twenty-something college girls. Hannah actually had quite the variety of friends, ranging from stereotypical emos, to goths, to people in bands, to nerds, to preps. She wasn’t one to seclude herself from a certain group because she didn’t “fit in” with them, and she was a little upset to see that that kind of stuff still happened outside of high school and college. Pathetic. Really.
The blonde had the peculiar feeling that someone was watching her, namely, the man who had seated himself beside her some while ago. She turned her head slightly to the side and was shocked to find that he was staring at her intently, his brows knitted in confusion. Okay, that was more than a little bit creepy. Not surprisingly, he asked her a few minutes later who she was. She took this moment to turn to face him, studying his features with the limited light provided by the movie screen. Holy fucking shit. Holy FUCKING shit. It was William Beckett, aka the adorable beanpole boy from The Academy Is. What was it with her and meeting amazing band members lately? The Tombstone Festival had certainly been working in her favor as of late. She smiled a little at him, deciding to reply to his question quickly so he didn’t think she thought he was creepy. Because even though he was a little weird, it was William Beckett. And you can’t not love him. “Err…I couldn’t tell you, to be honest. I’m Hannah, I write for (insert paper here, because I’m too lazy to make one up.). You’re…William Beckett, right? Loveee your band.” Before when she had met Pete Wentz she had swallowed her pride, afraid to let him know that she knew him. Well, Becks seemed to know who she was, so that seemed like fair game. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt any to plump the boy’s ego, not like he needed it, but Hannah just loves celebrities. You know how it is.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 17, 2007 18:05:00 GMT -5
William noticed the girl was getting slightly uneasy, and he knew how it must be to have some weird random guy staring at you. Actually, he knew how that felt, oddly enough. Guess that's the price you pay when you're in a band and you're beginning to get known, I suppose. He tried to direct his attention back to the movie, which was pretty gorey, not like he minded. He was a guy, after all, and it was pretty much common knowledge that the big, bad guys knew how to tolerate a little gore. (Sarcasm, in case you haven't noticed.) Still, it didn't bother him, but for some reason it affected Sisky quite a bit. It was actually funny to see him go puke his guts out because of some gross thing that showed on the movie. Defiantly material you want to record on a phone and send to people, if you ask me. He looked back at the girl when she began speaking to him. He laughed at her outburst, and said, "Why, yes I am. And the best part is, I believe I know you. And by 'know', I mean I've seen some pictures and read a few articles. You're pretty good at journalism." Right, he was totally babbling, but who cares really? |
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Post by hannahbarnes on Apr 17, 2007 18:17:20 GMT -5
Yeah, to be honest it was a little odd to have people staring at you. Not like Hannah got it a lot, she wasn’t exactly a big shot journalist or anything like that. In fact, she almost fell out of her chair when Beckett said that he had heard of her before. Well, that’s certainly something she didn’t hear often. Famous musician read the articles of some little New York City indie music paper? Wait until she told her boss! She was bubbling with pride as he spoke, very pleased that someone actually acknowledged the work that she did. She wasn’t like all of the other journalists who published lies just to get a paycheck. She took her time on her stories and often she ended up writing more back-story on the bands that she loved so much rather than actual facts about their new album or where you could see them play. But she wasn’t really a fierce journalist at heart; she just wanted to get closer to the music industry that she so adored.
Hannah’s friends thought she was totally weird for having such an iron stomach when it came to death and destruction in movies, but she didn’t mind. Sometimes she’d go out with her guy friends and watch stupid horror flicks just for fun, because they didn’t get grossed out all the time. And oh, by the way, if Beckett ever gives Hannah his phone number, she would definitely enjoy seeing that video of Sisky puke his guts up due to a scary movie. Props for recording that man, and just wait until it hits the internet.
The blonde had significantly calmed down after her aforementioned outburst. Yeah, it was William Beckett. She had been seeing a lot of celebrities lately. Time to chill out and calm down. Yeah, Becks, no big deal. “Ah, cool deal. Not many people have really heard of our magazine, so that’s a really big compliment. Thank you.” By now, patrons in the rows in front of her and Bill had turned around and shushed them or given them dirty looks. After all, it wasn’t really appropriate to talk during a movie, but she didn’t care all that much. After all, they were in the very freaking last row of the theatre, it’s not like they were bothering anyone. Hmm, I wonder how many dead people there are now? Damn you Beckett, you’ve gone and distracted Hannah.
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Post by William Beckett on Apr 18, 2007 18:41:45 GMT -5
William smiled. "It's basically one of the more honest magazines I've read," he said. "Of course, I have to read it to the rest of the band; illiterate monkeys," he joked. He wasn't interested in the movie at all; he wasn't even interested before he started talking to Hannah, to be honest. He didn't know why he picked this particular movie, but he did. So now he had to deal, or he had just wasted eight dollars. Blurgh. He looked at the screen, seeing all the violence, mostly the girl with the gun for a leg shooting people, but he turned back and said, "So, are you covering Tombstone, or are you just around?" Yes, he was being annoyingly talkative today, probably much to Hannah's dismay. People infront of him turned around and either glared or shushed them, but really there wasn't much dialogue at the moment. |
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Post by hannahbarnes on Apr 18, 2007 18:57:18 GMT -5
Hannah was immensely proud that William had actually read the magazine she wrote for; it was a complete honor and she didn't really hear such compliments normally. Most of the time when she mentioned her job, people asked if they could have a shoutout in her article or they ran far away, hoping to stay away from the scary interviewers. It kind of sucked, because if she met someone famous they never really wanted to stick around and chit-chat like normal people, they just wanted to go, sit down, drink some coffee, give her a bunch of bullshit interview answers and then roll off in their Mercedes Benz with a thousand bodyguards flanking them. After so many years of putting up with crap from 'famous people' (who were sometimes not all that famous), Hannah had gotten really sick and tired of dealing with pop princesses and ghetto hipsters. That's why she had begged her boss to let her cover some more obscure (or, when she started, the bands were obscure) music. Now, her job was much more enjoyable, and judging by the fact that The Academy Is... had been reading her columns, she was doing a pretty good job. Chuckling as he joked about his band being a bunch of illiterate monkeys, which could be the truth for all she knew, she realized that by now she had wasted a good ten bucks on a movie because she was really paying more attention to Beckett than she was to Grindhouse. But, that was okay with her. He was actually very nice, which was an exciting change.
When he asked if she was covering the festival, she nodded, feigning attention to the movie whilst actually paying attention to him so the annoying people in front of them would stop turning around and shushing them. Geez! They were just whispering, and it was the back of the theatre. It wasn't like they were being super disruptive or having secks or anything. Stupid annoying people in front of them. "Yeah, I'm covering the festival, but not against my will. I go every year." She said, smiling and brushing her bangs away from her eyes. Huh, Hannah and Becks kind of have the same hair, except Becks' is shorter. Aww, how cute. They should get married and have beautiful haired babies. Okay, no, don't listen to me. I'm just babbling. Sorry Robert Rodriguez, but William Beckett > Death Proof. It's not my fault he has better hair than you do.
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