Chapter Text
July 15, 2016.
“I signed that infamous NDA too,” Gwendoline Christie continued in her soft, velvety voice. “I fully understand that it obligates you to keep quiet.”
“So maybe you should stop interrogating us?” Diego Luna replied with a wide grin and a slightly stronger accent.
All day long he had been buzzing with something close to exhilaration. After the movie’s presentation at Star Wars Celebration, he could finally say out loud what had been burning inside him for months: he was in Star Wars, playing Rebel intelligence officer Cassian Andor. That was basically the full extent of what he was allowed to reveal, but now the weight of secrecy on his shoulders felt much lighter.
“I am not interrogating you,” Gwendoline corrected, taking a slow sip of champagne. “I am just imagining which scenes they might send back for reshoots. Rumor has it your characters are in for some major changes.”
A bright burst of laughter came from the next table. With a quiet sigh, Diego glanced at his colleagues who seemed to be thoroughly enjoying the after-party and unwinding after a day packed with interviews. He curled his lips and turned toward Felicity Jones who was sitting next to him. Her green eyes lifted to meet his, quietly assessing the situation.
“They have not told us any of that,” she said with such effortless calm that even Diego believed it for a moment.
He felt endlessly grateful that she was there. Unlike his character, he was not always the best at keeping his mouth shut.
“And where exactly did you get this information?” Felicity asked, narrowing her eyes just a touch.
“Oh,” Gwendoline replied, elegantly tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear. “I have my reliable sources.”
Diego exchanged a glance with Felicity and together they looked at Ben Mendelsohn, who was lounging comfortably beside their inquisitive companion.
“She used psychological torture on me,” Ben said with a perfectly straight face. “I had to give her something. Nothing specific, just general information.”
“Oh, darling, we are far from finished,” Gwendoline purred. A mischievous smirk appeared on Ben’s face. “But let me stay focused.” She lifted her index finger. “I am convinced the movie needs a romantic storyline. And I doubt a heroine like Jyn Erso will be thrown into the arms of someone as mature as Orson Krennic.” Ben let out an indignant sound. Clearly the word “mature” struck a nerve.
Diego fought back a smile and folded his arms while leaning back into the couch. He already knew what she would ask next.
“So, will we get to see sparks fly between your characters?” Gwendoline’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Felicity smirked, rested her chin on her hand, and adopted an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose.
“Sparks?” she repeated. “I am sure the movie will have plenty of fire. But maybe not the kind you are imagining.”
She looked cheerful and carefree, but Diego noticed the way she shifted her grip around the slender stem of her champagne glass and began holding it with both hands.
“In movies, you do not always need to show everything openly. Sometimes one look is enough.” As Gwendoline said this, she glanced at Felicity, then at Diego, and back at Felicity again. A moment later she winked, and a knowing smile curled her lips.
Diego frowned, trying to understand the gesture. Had anything he had done hinted at something? Felicity looked devastatingly attractive tonight in her short black dress, and the lace top with the playful bow tied around her neck pushed his imagination into unhelpful territory. But he had controlled himself all evening and had not stared too obviously. Probably.
“Sorry, what exactly are you implying?” Felicity’s suddenly cold tone made Diego tense. The press called her an English rose, praising her sweet looks and impeccable manners. But he had seen how easily that rose could show its thorns, and gossip was one of the quickest triggers.
“Relax,” Gwendoline said gently. “Tonight you officially told the world that you are in Star Wars. Millions of fans will start digging up anything they can about you and coming up with theories. There is already plenty online.”
“I value my peace of mind and prefer not to google myself,” Felicity said with a sigh and leaned back a little.
“In that case, you might not know…” Gwendoline paused mid-sentence and tapped her fingertip lightly against her champagne glass.
“Know what?” Felicity asked, frowning.
Gwendoline waited for a few seconds and then continued.
“Before any event, I try to learn as much as I can about my guests. While searching for information about you, I came across a few viral links. You know, the kind that leads to not very decent sites.”
The conversation began to pick up speed. Half an hour earlier Diego would not have believed he would be hearing people discuss a viral clip featuring Felicity. Judging by their animated retelling, it involved snow, a hot tub, and her wearing nothing but a hat and mittens. It was a scene from a teen comedy she had done years ago. By some strange twist of fate, Diego had never seen that movie.
“Those sites love boosting celebrity screenshots to get clicks and ad revenue,” Gwendoline added in her flawless British accent.
“When you choose a public life, you have to accept things like that,” Ben said with his equally strong accent.
“Yes, it is one of the clearest signs of real fame. Just imagine what will happen when Rogue One comes out.”
Diego watched Felicity closely. She was trying her best to stay composed, but he noticed the way her breathing quickened, the way her smile tightened into a thin line, and the way anger flashed in her eyes. After months on set, he had learned to read her moods. She was furious.
“Call me old-fashioned,” she began, her voice trembling with irritation, “but I—”
“I do not even want to imagine what might show up online about me,” Diego cut in loudly and laughed awkwardly.
Just as he had hoped, the attention shifted to him. He had to improvise and said the first thing that came to mind.
“I just hope no one starts sharing scenes from a show I did when I was a kid,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “There was one episode with… let us call it an awkward intimate moment.”
Ben reacted first.
“How awkward?”
“Awkward enough,” Diego replied, a vivid memory flashing through his mind. “Nothing was real, of course. But I was twelve.”
“Oh,” Ben said, impressed. “And how did you handle that?”
“It was nerve-racking. Imagine walking onto set and seeing forty people staring at you through a camera and waiting for a convincing performance, and you barely know what you are supposed to do.”
“That sounds horrifying,” Gwendoline said with real interest.
“All I could think was, Please do not get aroused.”
“And that's exactly what happened,” Ben burst out laughing.
“I was a teenager. Controlling that was not easy. But my scene partner was very sweet and pretended not to notice anything.”
As Diego animatedly told the story, laughing and gesturing with Ben and Gwendoline, he avoided looking at Felicity. It felt as if an invisible force held him back. That lasted until Ben suggested they all go to the bar and drink to every awkward role they had ever played. At that point Diego finally dared to glance at her.
To his relief, she wore a genuine and relaxed smile that created small, adorable crinkles at the corners of her eyes. But soon her attention shifted to someone behind him. She gave a polite nod, rose from her seat, smoothed her dress, and said, “Excuse me, I have to go. Someone is waiting for me.”
She offered everyone a courteous smile and walked quickly toward the other side of the room. The speed of it made the moment look more like an escape. Diego watched her without meaning to. She approached a tall man who wrapped his arms around her. That must have been Charles, the man she was serious about.
To his own surprise, Diego felt his mood dip for the first time that day. It might have been a stab of jealousy, or maybe it was simply the realization that outside the set she had a personal life he had no place in.
“Are we going to the bar or not?” Ben’s impatient voice broke the silence.
“Yes,” Gwendoline replied. “I learned everything I wanted.”
Diego looked at her, confused, but she only gave him a dazzling smile.
“Ben, I am tired of champagne. How about a Molotov cocktail?”
“Gwendoline Christie, you never stop surprising me. I completely approve.”
Ben offered her his arm and the two of them strolled toward the bar, leaving Diego sitting alone and bewildered. His mind was swarming with too many thoughts. One stood out more than the others.
What was that video of Felicity in a hat and mittens?