[sup][h1][center][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/4U40Gfg9gwEyp3u3ZBuaGp?si=6334cf696c47429a][img]https://i.imgur.com/q3SUbiN.jpeg[/img][/url][b][color=black]G I L  E M O R Y  G A L A H A D[/color]
[color=lightgray] G I L  E M O R Y  G A L A H A D[/color]
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[indent][sub][COLOR=SILVER][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]House Lynx Dorms[/I] - [I]P.R.C.U. Campus[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=SILVER][b]Dance Monkey #4.027:[/b][/COLOR] [I]HIGH ON THE WIRE[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][sub][hr][/sub][INDENT][sub][color=SILVER][B]Interaction(s): [/B][/COLOR] [I] N/A [/I][/sub][/indent]

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Gil shivered beneath the cascading cool water that bounced off his chest and shoulders, beading down his ribs and stomach. His skin was still jaundice-splotched, bruises at the end of their life cycles lingering with ugly yellow-browns; looking at himself in the mirror on the back of his bathroom door, he was a far cry from the well-maintained figure he'd cut a couple short weeks ago. The 'just-enough' tan was fading in the perpetually-overcast weather of the autumnal Canadian coast, and while he'd previously maintained carefully-crafted definition in his arms and abdominals, he felt the loss of progress where he'd been laid up in the infirmary. He ached, his body remained tender in places, and his ankle was still sore and reluctant to take his full weight.

He put his head to the wall and twisted the temperature gauge, shivering again as the water sputtered and the cold water was replaced with hot. He stood there, eyes closed with steam pooling around his feet and beginning to rise up his slick-wet calves and thighs, just enjoying the stillness of it. The water played white noise in his ears and he could feel himself almost lulled back to sleep, his mind wandering lazily around everything and nothing. He took deep breaths, centring himself and allowing the steam to fill his lungs and clear his head. 

A harsh buzzing interrupted Gil in what would otherwise have been a meditative descent into a re-infused perspective. Instead, he furrowed his brow, irritable for the intrusion, and lifted his head from the wall as he turned off the water and stood dripping, clinging to the last vestiges of vapour and heat as the buzzing continued and he groped for a towel beyond the shower curtain. He found it and dragged into back into the cubicle, drying himself off quick-and-rough before wrapping and tucking it around his waist and stepping out into the still-steamy bathroom. 

His phone buzzed again, the vibrations loud against the tile sill it rested on above the sink. He thought about dashing the damnable thing against the floor or the wall and letting it shatter into fragments quite unable to bother him again; instead, he picked it up, inspecting the incoming call. 

Artie was trying to reach him, [i]again[/i]. How many days had it been? Gil supposed the persistence was warranted, perhaps even necessary in his line of work. He sighed. There was no avoiding it forever; at the very least, Gil owed Artie a professional obligation. He opened the bathroom door, goosebumps spreading across his bare torso as the warm air rushed out, and moved to sit on the bed, still slightly damp and wet hair dripping onto his shoulders. 

He answered the call.

[color=FCE205]"Hi Arthu-"[/color] [color=FAF0E6]"Gil! Where in the damn hell have you been?"[/color]

Artie's voice came through thick and fast, laden with ire and exasperated. Gil pinched the bridge of his nose, immediately filled with regret for picking up the phone.
[color=FCE205]"Infirmary. I was laid up after the tri-"[/color] [color=FAF0E6]"The trials, yeah, I know, why do you think I've been trying to call? You missed that weekend shoot. I had to play nice, reschedule. Are you at least on your feet now?"[/color]

Gil felt the good mood he'd woken up in drain away. Amma and the calm she brought felt so far away in this moment.
[color=FCE205]"Yes, Arthur, I'm on my feet, but I don't thi-"[/color] [color=FAF0E6]"Well that's good news, at least. Bouncing back like always, eh! Look, I'm glad I finally got through, because the re-shoot is this weekend, and it's looking like we've got some more scripts coming through. Some of these are hot, Gil! Hot!"[/color]

He just kept [i]talking[/i] like nothing had happened, like Gil hadn't nearly died, like he'd just had a bad hangover from a networking party and was ready to dive straight back in. Gil felt angry, an emotion he'd been previously unfamiliar with but was growing quickly accustomed to. 
[color=FAF0E6]"It's all great stuff, I'll send it through the usual way once I've gone over everything. Anyway, the car can pick you up from the ferry dock like normal, you just need to get away sharp Saturday morning, we'll fly you out and have you back Sunday night. You know the routine. You still got the lines?"[/color]

Gil didn't answer; he just sat there, drip-drying, wishing he was talking to anyone else right now. 
[color=FAF0E6]"Gil? Bud? You still there?"[/color]

[color=FCE205]"I quit."[/color]

This time Artie didn't answer, and Gil let the silence stretch out. 
[color=FAF0E6]"What? No you don't, come on kid. Look, we can push the ad back again or chuck it out if you don't like it, it's just licorice mints, you're right, it's not on-brand. Just check out these new scripts I'll send you, there's some great stuff. You just need something exciting again! You took a blow but you got right back up, and I'm proud of you kid, I really am, but I can guess you're still a bit screwy from the hit. Take a week off, get some bed-rest - we'll have you right as rain in no time. Quit! You sure you're not making a move to comedy?"[/color]
Artie laughed, unconvincingly, and that just annoyed Gil more.
[color=fce204]"I mean it, Arthur. I'm done. I can't deal with it anymore. I quit, or retire, or whatever you want to call it. I'll finish out my year here, and then I'm going back to England to do something else. My dad's firm, maybe. But I'm done with Hollywood. I'm grateful for all the work we've done together, but this is it for me. I'm out."[/color]

[color=FAF0E6]"Look, just- I'll scrap the ad. You just take some time."[/color]
[color=fce205]"I'll have the same answer the next time you call me."[/color]
[color=FAF0E6]"You're not thinking straight. Get your head on right, and we'll get back to norma-"[/color]
[color=fce205][b]"I said I fucking quit!"[/b][/color]

Gil yelled down the phone and hung up, tossing it across the room. It bounced against the door and thudded onto the carpet; he could feel his face flush with anger, and he took a few long, measured breaths to cool down. He got up, pacing around the room, angry at Arthur, angry at himself, angry at his bruised and aching body, angry at his ankle that throbbed with a dull ache every second step. Gil scooped up his bottle of painkillers and chucked two pills dry down his throat, pocketing the rest; in the closet hung the suit he'd picked out for the dance, and after pulling on a pair of jeans and a tee, the bag was slung over his shoulder. 

He stooped to scoop his phone on his way out, taking a spiteful second to block Arthur's number, and then shot a text out to the boys:

[quote][color=FCE205][b]I'm picking up booze on the way over. Little bit of everything. 

We're letting loose tonight.[/b][/color][/quote]

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