Observation - Cillian Murphy

Stupidity

I stepped towards my splendid car after getting dressed in my usual clothes. Alex leaned on the auto with his arms crossed, watching me from afar.

"This is bullshit." I breathed as I stood next to him.

Alex chuckled. "Nice to see you too." He opened the car's door and closed it right when I'd entered.

"There is this man I bumped into back in London. And I know he's still mad at me for it," I thought. "He literally wished me to fail and.."

Alex interrupted me. "Sounds like that man's petty." He smiled.

I looked through the window. Well-dressed pedestrians pushed and ran to wave down the congested taxis on the street. The scenery mirrored my reality, showing again how interconnected we were between each other.

Alex continued. "Look, just don't stress over it. I mean-"

I interrupted him. "Alex, how am I supposed not to get mad when all he wants is for me to get fired from this film!"

"He wants a reaction as if someone asked him to create drama on set."

I remained silent. "Rochelle, don't cause anything lame there. Angela will kill both of us."

The car finally reached the hotel I was staying at. When I was exiting the auto, Alex held me back. "Be professional," he said, to which I only nodded.

After taking the elevator, I ran down the swirled carpet to my suite. A small box fell by the door of the room. Checking around, I confirmed once again the present was for me.

The raven box appeared mysterious and softly ruffled as I opened it. Inside stood many scarlet roses, which held a small piece of paper within, giving off a floral scent. I picked up the scribbled note and carefully read it.

"Forgive me. Dinner tonight?"

* * *

On my way to the hotel restaurant, I saw him with his eyes half-closed, watching the city glitter under colorful lights that reflected off the pavements and cars.

The interior of the place was lavish. It always complemented the hotel's authenticity. Wooden planks flew over each other, forming a match to the tables, which shared a simple feel. The floors harmoniously worked with the tiny light stripes while the olive-patterned chairs adorned the area further, creating a welcoming impression of luxury itself.

The host recognised me immediately, guiding me to the unknown man's table. He had been sitting there already, waiting for me.

The host set down our menus. "Our waiter will accompany you shortly." She said, beaming.

My dinner 'date' and I thanked the host before she left.

Gentle piano music played as I tried skimming through the menu on the table. As always, I was completely indecisive.

"I had never told you my name. I'm Cillian," the man said in a sonorous voice.

"My name's Rochelle."

Cillian sat in silence, slowly turning the pages of the menu.

I raised my eyebrow. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

Cillian looked up at me, his eyes piercing through my soul.

"My agent made me do this, okay?" His eyebrows danced as he spoke, almost trying to communicate.

I smirked, looking down at Cillian, my menu, and back at him.

"Take that smirk off your face." Cillian dismissed instantly.

Poking my cheek with my tongue, I responded. "You're pathetic, Cillian."

He studied me carefully, trying not to stir further conflict. "Unlike you, young lady, I can't ruin people's evening with my awful manners." Cillian leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

He wore a bland creme shirt with a very expensive cardigan on top. A pair of glasses fell over his eyes, transforming the dinner into something valuable. His hair slicked back flawlessly, and you could tell he took great care of it.

"Bite me," I responded, creating a minute of silence between us.

The waitress finally approached our table. "May I take your orders, please?" She said, bringing a miniature notebook to her chest.

Cillian, in a second, responded quicker than I did. He ordered something fancy but also stupid. (because I liked to call him that.)

Cillian was generally stupid— staring from his manners and concluding with his annoying voice. I hated his presence in a room, how he dressed, how he pretended like he wasn't a devil on the inside.

I wanted him to shut up, for me to feel heard again. I longed to cease Cillian off our earth in hopes of creating happiness. He was my metaphor for it.