Uriah stared for a moment before his eyelashes fluttered and he looked down. “Mr. Hugo,” he decided. “Yes, Mr. Dickinson gave you high praise, certainly.”
Right. It was best to keep things professional. Things have changed, and Uriah was a different man now. He looked back up at Hans, his eyes set. He was probably a different man now too, and yet… he looked so much like how he remembered him, as if nothing about him had changed.
“I can’t deny that you look like a Greek hero, too,” he nodded up at him. “Could you tell me more about your experience with being behind the camera? Mr. Dickinson gave me just a summary.”
Mr. Hugo. It gave him goosebumps. Hans thought he was already getting used to his new name, but his smile faded when hearing Uriah call him that. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He was an actor and Uriah is the director for the film. It was best to keep things that way.
Hans blushed, looking away. "Thank you," He said, turning to face Uriah, "And you are a Greek poet, a true playwright." Relaxing back into the chair, he crossed his arms. God only knew what little details Allen gave Uriah about him. All he could assume were that they were good enough to get him this role.
"I started acting on stage back in France. Nothing much. Just small roles here and there. I wasn't getting anywhere so I come to America, start working in clubs, restaurants, shops and started to get some off Broadway roles. I did plays by Shakespeare, Wilde, Schiller, Ibsen, Shaw then I met Mr. Dickinson and he got me some small roles for films. Always playing a waiter, bartender, driver, dancer. things like that. I believe that brings me to now." He cleared his throat then shrugged, "My apologies, I know that was just another summary, but I hope mine was better than Allen's."
Uriah’s gaze softened. “Thank you. I certainly hope to live up to the old masters.” He let out a soft breath. He tried to look Hans in the eye, but something made him avoid it.
As he listened, he put a hand to his chin and rubbed his lips slightly. “It’s alright. It’s good to get more insight into your work before meeting Mr. Dickinson.” He put his hand down, leaning in a bit. “Seems like you have a lot of experience with small roles. Do you think you could handle playing the main character?”
"I believe that you do, Poet," Hans expressed while staring across at Uriah. Staring at Uriah's lips, he hurriedly looked off to the side while adjusting himself in the chair. To play calm, he took a deep breath then relaxed back, giving his usual small smile. Although he could hear Uriah talk, it was faint at first. With a quick head shake, he assumed that he was back to normal; minus his heartbeat still beating hard.
One of Hans's dreams was having his name (or stage name at least) on a movie poster and to see himself on the nickelodeon screen a lot. He worked hard all the way up to this point and there was no stopping him now. "Of course!" He beamed, "I handled a lot and can handle much more. I'm passionate and dedicated to my art after all."
Uriah’s head snapped up as his mouth was left agape. He almost thought he misheard him, but no. He had to take a moment to process, but as soon as he could, he shook his head sternly. “Don’t. Just don’t.” He tried to ignore his pounding heart and the blood filling his cheeks.
He looked over and saw a waiter nearby. Raising his hand, he called the man over and asked for a water. He needed something, anything. It seemed like Hans really hadn’t changed at all. The man across from him seemed to be the exact same as the one he had met in Munich. Would this be a problem? He really hoped not. Even if he himself had changed in the time they spent apart, he still felt fondness for Hans. The nature of such fondness, though, he preferred not to think about.
Uriah let out a breath. “Hm. Well, we’ll see what you can handle once I see your audition.”
Once the waiter came back with a glass of water, he took a long sip.
The tips of his ears burned with heat. "God…I'm sorry," He sighed while lowering his head. "I'm sorry for that." To say that he forgot about Uriah, especially during everything that had happened since they last saw each, would be a lie. Nothing but a big fat lie. Somehow that summer just lodged itself in his mind for good. Every since then has been a blur or a nightmare, but those times with Uriah were fresh in his mind.
Hans just kept his head down till the waiter came to the table. With his right hand resting on the table, the other picked at edge of his jacket. Sometimes he would try to glance over at Uriah but his heart kept fluttering.
Slowly he exhaled while staring off into the distance. When the waiter returned to the table, Hans gave the man a small thanks. "We will see," He said as he turned to face Uriah. "I will prove myself. I worked so hard up to this moment and I know you did as well. I will not waste anyone's time."
