Work Text:
Bouncing her heels off of the rock she was sitting on, Nina stifled a yawn as she watched the crew set up for the next take. She wasn’t tired – she was bored. Night shoots were typically monotonous, usually involving hours of set up and repeated takes for fifteen seconds of usable footage, but as the only actor on site, this one was particularly endless.
Heaving a sigh, she pulled her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and checked the time. Vegas was three hours behind Atlanta – Ian would definitely still be awake. She fired off a text.
Miss you.
She wrinkled her nose as she hit send, wondering if she sounded like a pathetic girlfriend. She’d seen him that morning before he took off for the airport and he’d be back tomorrow – later today, really. Still, she did miss him. She always missed him when he wasn’t around.
She especially missed him when he was in Vegas partying with their costars and she was stuck back in Atlanta working.
Paging through the script to kill time until Ian responded – or the crew finally got the take set up – Nina looked ahead to the scenes she was scheduled to shoot on Monday. She’d committed three of her lines to memory when her cell phone buzzed.
MISS U 2 BABYYYYY
Frowning, she stared at the text. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, but exactly how drunk was her boyfriend?
Then she remembered.
Rolling her eyes, she quickly typed out another message.
Hi Paul.
Ian was most likely wasted, but even drunk off of his ass he’d be more likely to call and slur at her over the phone. Nope. Overly schmoopy, badly composed text messages were totally Paul’s forte.
Especially when he’d stolen someone else’s phone.
She only had to wait a few minutes for the next message.
WAT U TALKIN BOUT? ITS YUR LOVAHHH INA.
Snickering, Nina shook her head as she responded.
Ina?
The reply came immediately.
IAN! IAN SOMERHALLLLD#$SF
Her phone buzzed with an incoming call before she could compose a response. Glancing at the crew as they continued their work, Nina slid off the rock and made her way through the mess of wires and camera equipment to the edge of the lighted area surrounding the set. Smiling, she hit a button. “Hi, Ina.”
“Hey, babe,” her boyfriend drawled, obviously relaxed and more than a few drinks into the festivities. “How’s it going?”
“It’s…going,” she replied, looking over her shoulder at the seemingly glacial progress. “At this rate, we should get the shot by May…of next year.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” he replied, contrite to the extreme in his inebriated state.
“It’s okay,” she replied, giggling softly as a cool breeze lifted her hair from her neck. “Are you having fun?”
“Other than this asshole stealing my phone,” Ian said as the background noise swelled and Nina realized that he’d switched to speakerphone. “He picked my pocket.”
“Any excuse to grab your ass, man,” Paul replied without missing a beat, his voice carrying over the line, just as jovial as her boyfriend’s. “Nina and I have that in common.”
“You are the worst,” Torrey cut in, the humor in her voice evident as the boys dissolved into laughter. “Ugh, Nina. I’m sorry. You know how these two get.”
Nina felt a stab of jealousy even as she grinned, wishing desperately that she was with her cast mates instead of at work. “Oh, I do,” she agreed as one of the PA’s waved to her, letting her know that the shot was ready. “They’re ready for me on set. I’d tell you to keep them out of trouble, but…”
“Exactly,” Torrey replied. Nina could picture her wide-eyed expression of agreement. “I’ll try to make sure they don’t get arrested at least.”
Nina laughed. “’Bye guys.”
Torrey and Paul’s chorus of farewells was cut off as Ian took them off of speaker phone. “See you tomorrow, babe. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she replied as Paul began crooning ‘I love yous’ in the background in a mooning, high-pitched tone. Shaking her head, Nina hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket and hurrying back to the set. “I’m ready,” she announced.
“Yeah, five more minutes, Nina,” Chris murmured absently, barely glancing at her as he checked the light meter.
Seriously? she groaned internally, shoulders slumping as she turned on her heel and wandered back to her rock. Would this night never end?
Her phone buzzed again as she jumped up onto the rock. A grin curved her lips as she dug it out of her pocket and clicked the button to bring it to life. Opening up the text message from Ian, she bit her lip to hold back her laughter. Ian and Paul had taken a self-portrait of the two of them, puckering up to the camera like touristy buffoons while Torrey covered her face with her hand in the background. At least they’re thinking about me, she thought, putting her phone away in preparation for being called to her mark.
Fifteen minutes later, Chris was still messing with the lighting and she was still perched on her rock. Blowing out a breath of frustration, she retrieved her phone and opened her WhoSay account.
“What are most people doing right now? Drinking. What am I doing right now? Filming. Working/NightShooting on a Saturday night. Yupp. True story.”
Attaching a rehearsal photo from earlier in the evening, she posted the update and sighed.
Night shooting was the worst.