I have no idea the timeframe of the British WL, or when this pic was taking, or why, so I made it up. Artistic license, call it. **** Picture 3 ****
“Smile for the camera, Greg,” directed Ryan, taking him by the shoulder and turning him around. Greg had barely wiped the impish grin off his face and stuck on a silly expression. The picture was snapped, a “sufficiently awkward pose,” said the cameraman later, but at the time he only said, “Nice.” Greg’s grin returned in a split-second, and Ryan punched him lightly in the arm.
“Good show today,” Ryan offered.
“Yeah,” said Greg, “You got in a good line. Don’t do that again.” Greg’s eyes were glittering madly through his coke-bottle glasses, and Ryan knew that off-hand tone to be a compliment.
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically anyway, “I’ll just shut up next time; more time for you and Clive to bicker like an old married couple.”
Greg looked over his shoulder and blew a kiss in Clive’s general direction. “He knows I love him,” said Greg, “I’m helping.” the host only shook his head and smiled as he moved away.
Ryan sighed and loosened his tie. “God,” he said emphatically, “I hate wearing a suit onstage. I don’t even dress up like this for weddings.”
“Maybe that’s why you haven’t had one yet,” smirked Greg, before speaking in a rare, serious tone. “I sort of like it. It shows respect for your audience—that you’re not just some slob out here, that you’re a performer and here to entertain.”
Ryan looked surprised at the shorter man’s earnestness, so rare in him, and shrugged. “Eh, that’s a thought.” He grimaced. “But I’d still get out of it if I could. It’s hard enough to be a hummingbird without all this.” He touched his sleeve vaguely.
Greg threw a grin at him. “I don’t think you need it, anyway,” said the smaller man, “When a six-foot-five man is suddenly a hummingbird, people sit up and take notice.”
Ryan stretched and yawned. “That’s why we do it. Or I do it. You, I’m convinced, just do it so that you can snark at whoever you like.”
Greg’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe, maybe not, you big giraffe. I’m tired; let’s go get a drink.”
“All right,” Ryan agreed, and followed behind Greg as they left the studio.
I like the dynamic between Ryan and Greg here. And Ryan's line about Greg just doing Whose Line so he could snark at everyone-- that is so true! LOL. But I love snarky!Greg.
O Gosh, I can't believe I forgot to comment on this. Very realistic and truthfull conversation, I could just see them do that. I adore the tiny little bit of Greg/Cliveness too. I think I know, although I'm probably wrong. Reveal yourself, oh writer of golden words and awkwardly posing Gregs and Ryans... ;)
First off, props for choosing the pic with Ryan in the monkey suit to drabble.
Greg's remark about the hummingbird is golden, and I like the way you depicted their friendship at the time. Comfortable but not at all saccharine. A fun read. :>)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-07 12:44 am (UTC)****
Picture 3
****
“Smile for the camera, Greg,” directed Ryan, taking him by the shoulder and turning him around. Greg had barely wiped the impish grin off his face and stuck on a silly expression. The picture was snapped, a “sufficiently awkward pose,” said the cameraman later, but at the time he only said, “Nice.” Greg’s grin returned in a split-second, and Ryan punched him lightly in the arm.
“Good show today,” Ryan offered.
“Yeah,” said Greg, “You got in a good line. Don’t do that again.” Greg’s eyes were glittering madly through his coke-bottle glasses, and Ryan knew that off-hand tone to be a compliment.
“Thanks,” he said sarcastically anyway, “I’ll just shut up next time; more time for you and Clive to bicker like an old married couple.”
Greg looked over his shoulder and blew a kiss in Clive’s general direction. “He knows I love him,” said Greg, “I’m helping.” the host only shook his head and smiled as he moved away.
Ryan sighed and loosened his tie. “God,” he said emphatically, “I hate wearing a suit onstage. I don’t even dress up like this for weddings.”
“Maybe that’s why you haven’t had one yet,” smirked Greg, before speaking in a rare, serious tone. “I sort of like it. It shows respect for your audience—that you’re not just some slob out here, that you’re a performer and here to entertain.”
Ryan looked surprised at the shorter man’s earnestness, so rare in him, and shrugged. “Eh, that’s a thought.” He grimaced. “But I’d still get out of it if I could. It’s hard enough to be a hummingbird without all this.” He touched his sleeve vaguely.
Greg threw a grin at him. “I don’t think you need it, anyway,” said the smaller man, “When a six-foot-five man is suddenly a hummingbird, people sit up and take notice.”
Ryan stretched and yawned. “That’s why we do it. Or I do it. You, I’m convinced, just do it so that you can snark at whoever you like.”
Greg’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe, maybe not, you big giraffe. I’m tired; let’s go get a drink.”
“All right,” Ryan agreed, and followed behind Greg as they left the studio.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 08:09 am (UTC)I like the explanation of Ryan's suit too.
Very nice fic!
no subject
Date: 2006-01-09 07:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-08 07:24 am (UTC)Greg's remark about the hummingbird is golden, and I like the way you depicted their friendship at the time. Comfortable but not at all saccharine. A fun read. :>)