'And spite's as good a reason to take his power'
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Almost twenty years ago, Logan Roy had an affair with Elizabeth Ronan's mother, one that ended in her divorce and a number of rather unsavoury news s...
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|| CHAPTER 6 – Playing with Fire ||
(Season 1 Ep 6 – 'Which Side Are You On?')
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(A/N – Sorry for the wait for this, I was working on finishing my The Bear story, First Light and I also started uni again, so I'm a bit busier. - Also I'm going to level with you, most of the scenes in this episode would not have made sense for Elizabeth to be in, so this chapter is mostly original scenes of hot people talking to each other. But I feel like that actually perfectly describes Succession.)
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"So, like, right now I just work for the label, but I make my own stuff too. It's sort of spiritually and stylistically akin to British Grime music, like Stormzy? But like still unique to me. And the execs have said they'll maybe think about listening to it at some point in the future."
Elizabeth rubbed at her temple as the young man from the record label rambled at her. "Well, that's...exciting."
He was a lean man, decked out in an all-black outfit and adorned with gold jewellery that was so obnoxious she suspected it was fake. A small afro framed his sharp jaw and high cheekbones, and thick red-rimmed glasses rested against his broad nose.
When he had first come up to her, she'd thought he was probably a similar age to her. But after hearing him open his mouth and with the way he blinked down at her like a lost puppy, she had swiftly realised he was probably barely out of college.
They were in a lounge area at the King's Theatre, surrounded by the preening entourage of the rapper Kalfu, who was wrapping up a performance at that very moment. The room was a smoky haze, so the full power of the acolytes exaggerated or entirely forced smiles were lost, while their reclined bodies were blurred at the edges. Elizabeth could feel the vibrations of the music still blaring on stage through her shoes.
The man she was talking to—she'd already forgotten his name—had handed her an ambiguous looking cocktail, which she was yet to take so much as a sip from.
She was certain that when Stewy had asked her to come and meet him so that they could go for a drink after the show, that he had intended for her to wait out front for him. But he had taken far too long, and she'd gotten bored, so she'd wandered into the venue and slipped backstage, only to be waylaid by the sweet but bumbling man before her.
She was pretty sure that hitting on her had been a secondary, or maybe tertiary goal for him. He was a nice, slightly naïve person lost in a sea of hangers-on and groupies, who were much more adept at moving through the entertainment world than he was. He wanted someone to talk to. A kind, sympathetic ear. And perhaps Elizabeth, with her blonde hair falling down her back in soft waves, her brown eyes surrounded by sparkling gold shadow and dressed in long sleeved lilac dress, had looked approachable enough to be a contender.
