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Right as Damien starts taking off the Todd outfit, Tommy grabs him by the elbow and into the open dining area, where Angela is waiting with a fresh cup of tea. She mentioned her throat feeling rough after the last bit they shot, laughing belly up at Chanse's shell-shocked performance as Owen.
("Goo's all yours," Damien offered as soon as they walked off the set.
Angela grinned in gratitude and punched him in the shoulder. "Thanks, bud," she rasped out.
It's common between them, the easy affection. Damien tries not to pay attention to it, tries not to give it too much meaning.)
"What's up?" Damien asks, starting to feel a little cold in this stupid basketball jersey. "Anything wrong with what we filmed? Is it— oh shit, Angela, was it too much?"
Angela stares up at him with wide eyes. "Huh?"
Damien looks around, waiting for Nate to appear from around the corner. "I didn't think the flirting would be HR worthy, but—"
"No, dummy. It was perfect." Tommy grins at him, too knowingly. (Damn.) "Right, Angela?"
Damien dares to take a peek at Angela's expression, her eyes bright over the rim of the mug. "Oh yeah, it was hilarious. Great job, Dames." There's a hint of pink at the tops of her cheeks. Likely from the hot tea. It has to be. (Damien wouldn't know how to process the alternative explanation.)
Tommy clasps his hands loudly, breaking their eye contact. "Okay, back to work. Erin and I had a brilliant idea because we love this bit and think it'll be a hit— you feel it too?" The two of them nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. "So—and feel free to say no—if we ever brought straight eye back, it would be awesome if we could have a little, uh, storyline. Some kind of callback to the… you know. The thing between you two."
Damien raises an eyebrow. Angela raises both. "Okay?" they say, even more slowly this time.
"Could we film a little behind the scenes footage of you two flirting?"
Tommy's grin is blinding. Damien forgets that he's somewhat of an evil (comedic) genius.
"Just to build this story of you trying it for real and Angela putting a stop to it, you know? It'll build tension, Todd can lean into the sad boy stereotype a little bit— oh, it'll be great."
Damien watches him go on and on like a snake oil salesman, relentless in his pursuit. It's damn effective, too— Damien nods along and agrees with every word, while Angela replies with a quiet, "Yeah, sure."
And now they're here: Angela sitting on the edge of the table, Damien wearing his stupid Todd costume towering over her. She's still wearing the oversized blazer, claiming it's essential to her character, and it only makes her look even smaller in Damien's eyes. From here, he can see the pink spreading from the tops of her cheeks to the tips of her ears, long neck exposed to him while she looks in Tommy's direction and waits for his go signal.
"Are you taking audio too? My mic pack's off," Angela asks.
"Nah, we'll ADR it if the footage isn't juicy enough." At that word, Damien's head whips to the side to gape at him. "So… make it juicy."
Tommy winks. (Evil genius. Damien regrets ever telling him why last year's Christmas party was such a bummer.)
"I'll leave you to it." Tommy presses record on the phone he set up on a shelf and gives them a thumbs up. "Take your time, guys. I'll be at my desk if you're done."
Before he could scamper off— "And remember: juicy."
Damien sighs before getting into character. It's pretty easy— he just needs to relax his gaze and put on a dopey grin. Looking down at Angela like this, it doesn't take much for him to find that silly smile.
"So… how do you want to do this?" Angela puts her mug down and gives him an awkward smile. Perfectly in character, of course.
"Dunno." The Todd voice makes Angela roll her eyes. "What's up?"
"Ugh, do you have to use the voice?" Angela's frown makes her look like an angry bird from this angle. Again, Damien-Todd can't help but melt at anything she does.
But they have a mission. And if it's flirting Tommy wants, then it's what he'll get. "Be honest, did you like it?"
The confusion on Angela's face is genuine. "Like what?"
"The flirting," Damien drawls like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Being Todd is all about acting like he knows everything when he's just as clueless as everyone else. (Damien shares that with the character, except at least he's aware that he's an idiot at times.)
"Oh god, no." Angela shudders. "I've dated, like, two guys that are just like that. Big mistake. Not the worst, but not great either."
Damien didn't know that. It explains her reactions to him: incredulous, but not completely repulsed.
"So… not your type?" he asks (confirms, for his own peace of mind).
"No, no way. Not at all." A pause. Angela smiles at him for a bit, locks eyes in a way that makes Damien's knees shake.
He rests the palm of his hand on the edge of the table, his body still facing the camera (Tommy would kill him if he fucked up the blocking). "What is your type then?"
Who's speaking right now: Todd or Damien?
Angela breaks eye contact, staring down at her lap. "Uh, don't know. Not sure."
Damien is tempted to pull back. It's the safe response, the one least likely to end in Angela pushing him away and telling Tommy to delete this footage.
But Damien was told to put on a show, and if it's a show Tommy wants, then it's what he'll get.
"Well, I'm sure I could do better than those guys."
Again, who's speaking?
"Todd would?" Angela slouches and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, right."
"No, not Todd."
Oh. That's who.
At that, Angela looks up again. Still slouching, chin tilted up to meet his eyes. "Not Todd?"
His gaze isn't sleepy anymore, smile completely gone from his face. Damien has never felt more aware of himself than now, at this very moment, standing in front of Angela knowing what he's trying to say.
"Yeah. Damien would," he says, the character's voice gone too.
They're frozen like that for what feels like hours, just reading each other's expressions. Where's the bit? When's the punchline coming?
It sinks in, eventually, that Damien is dead serious. And as soon as that clicks—
Angela laughs.
Belly deep and loud. Destroying everything that the tea and Damien's goo tried to fix just minutes before.
Damien's stomach drops.
"Were you ever going to flirt with me like this if Tommy didn't put a camera on you?"
Damien doesn't realize that his gaze was locked on the corner of the table, far away from Angela's amused expression.
Amused and fond. It's the fondness that convinces him he's safe, that he hasn't royally fucked this all up with video evidence to prove it.
He can laugh now, breathy and still a little unsure. "Just had to eliminate some competition in my head. Now that I'm sure you're not into guys like this, guys like me might have a better shot, right?"
She shakes her head, her smiling eyes calling him silly. He wants her to say something to that effect, to give him a little more verbal confirmation to soothe the shaking of his knees.
But there's a camera on them still, and Damien becomes painfully aware of it again. Angela brings them back on track. "Now, I don't know if this is juicy enough for Tommy. What do you think?"
Damien sighs, prepares himself to morph back into Todd. "How much spicier does it need to be? I'm practically all up in your space."
Angela lifts a hand and touches his arm, tracing the crisp lines of his tattoos. "Something like this?" she says, breathier than usual.
He tries to hide it, but Damien's voice comes out breathy too, body stiff as a board while Angela's feather light touches graze over his skin. "Wow, that's bold," he tries to tease. His voice doesn't sell it.
Angela pulls back, pouting. "Wow, you're annoying. Fine. What's your pitch?"
What is his pitch? He's a comedian, he should know how to heighten a bit. If Angela starts with his arm, then he should move to her face— a finger brushing away an invisible strand of hair, his palm cradling her cheek for a moment before pulling away.
"Something like this?"
He's entranced by her eyelids fluttering shut, both of them shocked at what they're doing right now. But he's even more charmed by her dark eyes looking up at him, expression unreadable.
"That's it?" she says, and he can't read into her tone with just that. Is it frustration, irritation, disappointment— "What a wuss."
Damien frowns at that. A brief moment of panic courses through him, but the glint in Angela's eyes is oddly comforting. "'That's it?' What more—"
Angela clutches the front of his jersey and pulls him down for a kiss.
It's barely a kiss, just a little more than a peck. A taste of Angela, with green tea and the hint of sweet goo on the soft flesh of her bottom lip. It's perfect, the fit of their lips meeting, but before Damien can relish the feeling, Angela pulls away.
She leans back on the heels of her palms, watching his bewildered expression with a grin. Is this what whiplash feels like? Damien can't even begin to respond. "That— that doesn't even fit the storyline," he mumbles, eyes avoiding hers.
"Oh yeah?" Angela nudges his knee with her toe, forcing him to look up at her. Are we okay? The curve of her lips asks.
Damien nods, just a little shocked but… happy. (Honestly? He's a little excited too— in more ways than one. Excited to turn that damn camera off and get a proper moment with her before she starts filming the next batch for this episode.)
And as soon as she knows she didn't go too far, Angela scrunches her nose and grins at him. "Well, I'm sure in that stupid little storyline, Todd wasn't supposed to be such a wuss."
A part of Damien is still a little shocked at the turn of events, but a part of him likes her precisely for this: her firecracker energy, her ability to riff off him (and anyone) at a moment's notice, her inability to not commit 1000% to a bit.
And before he starts worrying that this is part of the bit too, Angela lifts a hand to trace his tattoo again, going down from his shoulder all the way to the bare inside of his wrist, her hand squeezing his for a second where the camera won't see.
"You— you're nuts," he says, a little bit awestruck.
"I sure am." She cups his cheek briefly and rolls off the edge of the table. "Oh, Tommy's going to love this."
And then she walks—practically skips—all the way to Tommy's desk, leaving Damien stunned in his tracks, watching her go.
He stands there for a minute before Tommy comes back, eyes squinting at his expression. "You good, my guy?"
Damien shrugs, shaking his head. "Just— watch the video."
Tommy, now even more enticed, rushes to check the footage, only to scream "Fuck!" at the top of his lungs. "It only got three seconds—"
So miracles are real.
Damien makes a run for it.
Tommy stuffs the phone in his pocket and gives chase. "Damien, what happened? Damien, please tell me what was supposed to be on that video!"