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Caught Up in the Act (Collector of Rarities x Nobodysangel)

Collector of Rarities

Collector of Rarities

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May 25, 2011
Perseus ex Britania was an oddity among his brothers and sisters; where most members of the Imperial family dedicated themselves to politics, law or business, Perseus had pursued acting as a career. Initially, he'd been berated by critics, long before his first film had been released, for being another entitled brat from a rich family who coasted on the family name to get a favorable review. Everyone was expecting him to fail; even a good number of his family members laughed at him behind his back, some even to his face. But then something unexpected happened: his first film was released and he was a great success. Granted, the film itself wasn't great, only just making back its expenses at the box office, but Perseus's acting shone through and suddenly many more directors, most of whom were far better than the one who had given him his debut, wanted to work for him.

Over the next five years, the young prince quickly worked his way to stardom. Even the Empress, Megara vi Britania, had to admit that her seventh child was finally proving useful; God knew that the Britanian Empire could use a friendly face to present to the world since it hadn't stopped its attempts to expand its borders until they covered the world until sixty years ago, when a masked man, or perhaps a group of men under the same mask, named Zero had lead a rebellion that stopped the Empire in its tracks. With the Empire forced to give back most of the land it had captured and Empress Nunnally doing her best to repair relations between Britania and the rest of the world until her death, reparations had begun, but it would be a long time before Britania would be viewed in an entirely positive light.

Fortunately, Perseus was well-loved by almost everyone he met, giving the people of Britania a symbol to be proud of and the rest of the world a Britanian everyone could agree they liked. With Perseus now a star, a status he'd achieved in part with some help from his family, his publicity was just as important as his skill as an actor. In continuing with the theme of improving Britania's image, the Imperial Film Production Company, IFPC for short, had held an open contest for screenplays for a short film starring Perseus, with the winner allowed to be on-set during the shooting of the film as well as the privilege of personally meeting Perseus.

-----

Prince Perseus ex Britania, twenty three, stood behind the gates of the IFPC studios, waiting to meet the winner of the contest. He was a tall, attractive man, with shaggy blonde hair and the violet eyes of the Imperial family, who stood at 5'10". One of Perseus's greatest assets was his face; his face was very expressive and he had trained extensively to have complete control over it. His smile, which was often lauded as his most charming feature, was always welcoming, though there was a slight roguish curl to his lips that minted at mischief: something his sparkling eyes would verify.

As this was a formal appearance, Perseus was dressed to the nines in the same attire in which he made most of his public appearances. He wore a navy blue coat with gold buttons that hung down to mid-thigh and was buttoned down to his waist. Beneath the coat he wore a white shirt, though it was hardly visible, khakis that were a slightly lighter shade of blue than his coat and black dress shoes.

Though the public was not allowed past the gates of the IFPC studios, a small selection of media personalities had been allowed in to commentate on the event. Perseus himself was not allowed to be filmed until the gates opened, but the various crews were already at work, hyping up the arrival of the contest winner, eagerly awaiting the opening of the gates. Perseus himself had read the script and was quite excited to meet the young woman who had written it; she had a talent for words and he was eager to talk over some of the finer points of the script with her over lunch.
 
She could remember the exact moment she'd been told she had won the contest. She'd been working on grading some papers for class when one of her friends from the writing group called her, shrieking excitedly and so unintelligible that she had to hold the phone away from her ear to let the woman calm down before listening to the fact that she had won the IFPC Fresh Faces screenwriting contest. The announcement had been posted online on the IFPC Studios' website since that morning, but teaching Britannian history to middle schoolers left very little time to actually check the internet at work. Especially not with twenty twelve year olds to worry about and fuss over. They were at that age, after all and even the most dedicated teacher really wondered if it was at all worth it some days. She'd only been a teacher for about three years, and while she loved her students, her true love had always been writing. She'd written short stories for magazines and such, had even been in an anthology or two, but nothing that would have gotten her noticed. Her novel had languished since high school, through constant rewrites and revisions, sent off to publishers with rejection notice after rejection notice, and it had really become more of an ongoing personal project these days, something she might self publish one day. At least until today. Because her adaptation of her novel into a screenplay had apparently been good enough to bring her to the attention of IFPC Studios and their Fresh Faces Screenwriting contest.

The next week or so had been a whirl. Photographs and interviews with media outlets, people that had rejected her novel outright calling to fawn over her dialogue/stage directions only version, a phone call from Perseus ex Britannia's publicist, expressing the prince/actor's excitement about meeting her to discuss the script. She didn't think she'd been imagining him when she started reworking the characters, but perhaps she was. The main character hadn't been a handsome blonde man before, had been more of a rugged, hardbitten expat type. The story was a bit slow at first, but had a good pace, had built well, and was actiony enough to be enjoyable. It was historical, set in a medieval sort of time, with adventure and romance and a bit of horror and if you were going to cast an actiony romance novel of a movie, well, who better than the Golden Prince of Hollywood?

Her students had of course been utterly enthralled and Miss Theodora Huntington had gone from mild mannered history teacher to celebrity in her students' eyes overnight. Amazing how much more close attention they paid in class now! However, now that she sat in the limo that had been sent to bring her to the studio to meet with the director and the prince himself, she could feel the nervousness welling up. After all, what business did she have, meeting with famous directors and producers and movie stars? Who was she to be getting involved in all this? She sighed a bit inwardly as the dark glassed limousine was waved through to the security checkpoint at the gate and then through the gates, past throngs of reporters and media people covering the meeting between the winner and the prince. Of course, once she was inside the gates and being driven to meet with the prince, she could feel her stomach start doing flip flops. The car stopped and she hesitated, looking out the window. This was entirely more stressful than she'd have liked, to be entirely honest. However, such was life, and so with a deep breath, she nodded to the driver, who got out and went to her door, opening it for her.

She wasn't terribly tall, but neither was she short, perhaps about five and a half feet tall, her dark brown hair pulled back into a neat French braid, large round glasses perched on a slightly upturned nose with a nervous smile pasted on soft pink lips, slightly chapped from chewing on them. She was pretty in a very understated sort of way, all large gray eyes made larger by the glasses, the sort of pallor that came with a degree in history and a tendency to lose entire afternoons Wiki-hunting from one topic to another. She'd dressed nicely, in one of her teaching suits, as her friends called them, a pretty tweed skirt suit and white blouse, wearing quite sensible shoes with a low heel. She looked less like a writer and more like a college professor and she smiled a bit nervously as she regarded the prince, offering her hand for him to shake. "Your Highness, it's a great pleasure to meet you." She said, firmly but a bit breathless, and she could swear that her whole intestinal system had just turned upside down from the experience.
 
The Prince's face split into a wide smile as Theodora stepped out of the limousine. He'd intended to smile regardless of who it was, but he loved her choice in outfit; many women would have opted for something outright gorgeous, something that accentuated every inch of her body, but Theodora had chosen something more reserved, though still beautiful. Her outfit conveyed an academic look, but still made Perseus wonder what she'd look like with her glasses off and her hair down. He resolved that he'd find out by the time that they were done shooting.

Rather than shaking Theodora's hand, Perseus took it in his and bent down to kiss the back of it, smiling up at her with the trademark look that he had perfected through countless interviews. "Please, the pleasure is all mine," he said, his voice a little bit higher-pitched than what was considered to be conventionally masculine, though he could easily lower his tone as needed for a role. "I must say, the photograph they posted on the contest's website did not do you justice: I have never seen a woman wear the academic look as well as you do. And the mind that accompanies your beauty! I like to consider myself well-versed in Britanian history and your screenplay perfectly depicted the feel of England just at the turn of the Renaissance! But we can talk about that over lunch: for now, I believe that our friends from the IFPC would like to take some photos with the two of us together. If you would please come with me?"

The prince offered Theodora his arm and gestured towards an area off to the side that had been set up for photos. Perseus always liked to have a bit of fun with his photo shoots, especially when taking pictures with a member of the opposite gender, and was known to be more than a little flirty during them. There was a definite vibrance to the prince that could be seen in his eyes and the way he moved. Most of the Imperial family liked to move with slow deliberation, making their every movement an expression of elegance, but Perseus moved quickly and energetically, like wherever he was going was the most wonderful place on Earth and he couldn't wait to get there. He didn't speak like the rest of his family, either. True, there were subtle signs of speech lessons in the way he enunciated everything he said, but he spoke quickly and his tone was friendly, unlike his older siblings who spoke slowly and richly, like every word was coated in molasses and was clinging desperately to their tongue. Perseus was touchable; he didn't seem to hold himself to an inhuman standard and genuinely seemed to be enjoying himself in Theodora's company.
 
Theodora was a bit of an aficionado of the medieval world; courtly love, feudalism, the divine right of monarchs, all of that sort of thing was her catnip, so to speak. So to have her hand taken and kissed by a prince, however tarnished the Britannian royal family might be these days, made a very special little history nerd part of her heart shudder and squeal like a teenager. However, she did her very best to maintain her composure, though the blushing simply couldn't be helped. "I am honored that you find my work acceptable, Your Highness. I have to admit, I worried that I wouldn't translate the story to a screenplay very well. Novels have a much different pacing." She glanced down at her suit and bit her lip slightly, tasting the strawberry lip balm she'd worn to try and counter a good bit of the chapping she got from nibbling at her lips so often in thought. He was probably rather more used to women that dressed in designer fashions and couture originals from the great fashion houses of Europe. A woman in an off the rack tweed suit was probably enough of an anomaly to him to be interesting.

She nodded, feeling a bit helpless as she placed her hand on his arm and was carried along towards the cordoned off area for the photo ops. Well, he was royalty and a movie star, but was all of this pomp and circumstance really necessary? Would newspapers and television cable shows really be so interested in these things, when there was so much more truly fascinating things going on in a world still feeling the effects of the upheaval of the Black Rebellion, the Demon Emperor and the ripples those events had sent through the world? It seemed unfathomable to her. She moved rather more deliberately than he did, having always been a slower, more thoughtful sort of lady. She lived in her own head quite a bit, her mother had once remarked on her to friends, and tended to regard the events of antiquity as being of far more importance than the things going on around her. Born in the wrong century, she'd clucked over her eldest daughter, who'd been far more enamoured of books and dusty suits of armor and Renaissance faires than dolls or clothes or even boys.

"Thank you, Your Highness. You're most kind." She said, a bit unsure of how to respond to his excited speech and glowing personality. He was quite a bit more exuberance than any of the hoity toity royals did, and oddly enough, she approved of that. It was one thing for the royals to be very elegant and regal and such back when they had power, but now, they were largely figureheads, especially after the whole debacle with the wars started for such monumentally silly reasons. Now, she thought perhaps the royalty should evolve to a new paradigm, to embrace their status as celebrities rather than as rulers. Since it was going to be a good long time before anyone ever trusted them to run very much. The horrors of Emperor Lelouch couldn't be wiped away fully by even the adored Empress Nunnally, and it would be a long time before a Britannian royal could comfortably wield any degree of power.
 
"Well I try to be," he said, his eyes dancing with laughter. "And your work is far more than acceptable, my dear. The other nine entries I read over in the final ten were acceptable; your entry was wonderful. Just patriotic enough that my family will like it, but it's not nearly as soulless as the others. Can you believe that one of them wanted us to make a film in which the English defeated Napoleon? I appreciate the sentiment, but our great nation never would have been formed if it weren't for our defeat at the hands of the French."

Perseus stopped his chattering as they entered the halo of cameras and lights, patting Theodora's hand as they came to a halt. "Now, they're going to touch up our makeup," he explained. "Nothing too heavy: shouldn't take more than a few minutes. Now, I don't know how much you know about me, but I'm not a big fan of the whole "standing regally and starring imposingly into the camera" thing that my family loves so much, so let's have a bit of fun with it. I'm not saying we make faces at the camera in every shot, but they never use every picture they take anyways, so we could sneak in a few. Still, I'm sure you've dreamed of having a prince whisk you off of your feet at least once in your life, and you might not have a chance to get photographic proof of it again..."

Perseus let the suggestion hang as a few makeup technicians bustled forwards and went to work on Theodora and the prince's faces with makeup brushes. It was quick and painless, but required her to hold her head still for a little longer than was comfortable. Once the makeup artists vanished, Perseus gave her an expectant smile, waiting for her answer.
 
Theo didn't quite know what to make of the prince; he was charming and handsome and all those princely things but at the same time he was...well, he was rather more friendly and cheerful than one expected. She certainly hadn't expected him to have an opinion on the historical impact Britannia's defeat at the hands of Napoleon had on their country today. This sort of...excitability combined with a rather down to earth manner of speaking... it wasn't a bad thing but it was certainly unusual to see in a member of the royal family. Well, this member of the royal family was fairly unique among his flock, to be fair. Even still, she hadn't expected him to suggest that she would enjoy him whisking her off her feet. Did he mean literally? She looked down at her skirt, alarmed at the thought that if he was doing any literal whisking, the right (or rather wrong) camera angle could potentially show right up her skirt! The last thing she wanted was to display her knickers on broadcast television or in any sort of magazine. However, he was right about one thing. What little girl hadn't grown up daydreaming about a handsome prince sweep her off her feet?

Makeup was...rather more trouble than she'd been anticipating. Then again, she was really more of a 'lip balm and go' sort of lady. After all, she spent her days trying to hammer dates and names into the heads of children who were sometimes woefully thick about remembering things like that, and her nights were spent collaborating online with her little circle of writing friends, occasionally with a glass of wine and a lap full of fluffy, temperamental cat. Whisking off of one's feet by anyone, prince or janitor, wasn't exactly something that she prepared for. There was a good deal of clucking over her chapped lips and the faint dusting of freckles that covered her face; apparently they show up on camera like chicken pox under the photography lights. She was fairly bristling like a wet cat when she was finally released, giving an inward little 'harrumph' at one woman's suggestion that they might want to get a fashion consultant for her if she was going to be doing many more publicity events.

She glanced over at the prince a moment, folding her arms and looking up at him. "I suppose it couldn't hurt anything. What sort of...er...whisking did you have in mind?" She asked, giving an uncertain glance towards where the photographer and a few assistants were discussing things. "I mean, if we muck about too much, they'll get rather put out with us, won't they?"
 
"Oh, they only get cross if you make too many silly faces into the camera," said Perseus. "I've worked with this photographer before: she knows that I take my best pictures when I'm having fun. I remember this one shoot my mother commissioned for me; she wanted me sitting regally in a chair across from Helena Troy, you know, from that show Britanian Royal Police? Anyways, we were both done up in these lovely outfits that had been commissioned specifically for the shoot and it went off without a hitch, but by the end of it, Ms. Diaz over there," he gestured at the photographer, who was checking the lighting one more time, "had twenty shots left on the roll, so I suggested we have a little fun with it. We moved the chairs out of the shot and Ms. Troy and I began tangoing while Ms. Diaz took pictures. Anyways, after the pictures were developed, the magazine threw out all of the pictures of us sitting in the chairs and kept the ones of us tangoing and the response from the readers was overwhelmingly positive.

"Anyways,m we talked about the shoot earlier in the week and we were thinking of trying out a few different things. We thought we'd start off a little tame, shots of us walking arm in arm and such to please mother, then maybe a little bit of salsa dancing and, if there's still film left in the roll, we might be able to finish up with a few poses that might be at home on the cover of a harlequin romance novel. Now, don't be scared: a lot of people get nervous in front of the camera, but there's really nothing to be afraid of, especially when you're taking pictures with me. If it helps, just talk to me while you're looking into the camera; I'll try and make you laugh, which will look great on film. Ms. Diaz always knows when to take the shot, so you'll look gorgeous no matter what you do."
 
It sounded far more fun and much less regal and, well, frankly boring than what most royals were almost contractually obligated to be. Of course, Theo wasn't precisely dressed for fun, and given that her wardrobe consisted of 'work clothes' and 'lounging clothes', she couldn't even exactly go home and change. However, there was a far more pressing problem with this idea that she felt she needed to mention. "I...er... I actually don't know how to dance." She said, looking off to the side, a bit embarrassed to admit such a thing. "Well, I mean I don't know how to dance a salsa. I took ballet when I was younger, and some generic ballroom dancing for school dances and such but...well, I've never actually learned to dance anything more than a basic waltz and a few years of ballet." She hoped that didn't throw a wrench in his plans too much, and hopefully it would distract her enough to not start imagining the handsome royal in a heroic romance novel pose because that was just damned distracting.

She glanced over to the aforementioned, much praised Ms. Diaz, the photographer looking as though she had perfect control over the studio and everything in it. Of course, in her estimation, the prince seemed to be the most unruly wild card of the lot and Ms. Diaz was a wise administrator indeed if she'd learned early on that just like a young colt needed to be given his head every now and then to run himself ragged, the prince needed a likewise long rope to get all of that pent up energy and charm and sheer bombastic personality out of his system. Inwardly, she couldn't help but smile, though it had a bit of a rueful tone to it. Why did she feel like the frumpy older lady, most likely with a great deal many more cats than she actually had? She and the prince were roughly the same age; why did he seem so much more bright and vibrant and alive than most people? Granted, he certainly was more lively than those wax figurines he called family, but a great many cadavers had more life than those stodgy, boring old chaps. No, he was simply more lively and vivacious than just about anyone she'd met.

And that was just the last thing she needed, to meet an actual prince that lived up to the stereotype.
 
"Oh, you should learn to salsa dance sometime!" said Perseus, though it sounded much more like a friendly suggestion than a derisive statement. "But if you don't know the steps, then we can certainly waltz instead. We'll just have to get you some salsa lessons for next time." The prince's smile made it hard to determine if he was joking about there being a next time or if he was being serious about getting her salsa lessons. Before she could get any sort of answer, though, Ms. Diaz walked forwards and addressed the two of them.

Ms. Diaz stood at 5'6" with black hair that was neatly pulled back into a ponytail and chocolate brown eyes. She had very obviously Spanish features to her face, though she had a few hints of Britanian in her features as well. She wore a smart, simple black suit with a white blouse underneath and a pair of one inch heels. She had an air of practicality about her, though the way she smiled at Perseus made it seem like they were good friends.

"I'm assuming Percy filled you in on what this shoot's going to be like?" she asked, a crooked smile on her face. She had a mild Spanish accent, but spoke English fluently. "Since you haven't participated in a photo shoot before, I'd suggest just going along with him for the poses and such and listening to me about where I need you to be looking. Think you can do that?"
 
Next time? As far as she knew there weren't any more publicity events planned for this. She would be consulted a bit on the script perhaps, and probably invited to the wrap party and all but...she didn't think there would be anything like a next time for them to actually put any dancing lessons to use. "W-waltzing is fine, I suppose..." She honestly felt a bit overwhelmed. She had been expecting someone that...well, wasn't as friendly and flamboyant and energetic, honestly. She'd seen movies with him in them and perhaps occasionally caught a bit of an interview with him on some talk show or another while flipping channels but it struck her that she knew very little about the actual actor behind the royal name and acclaimed roles.

The arrival of Ms. Diaz, the photographer, interrupted any response she might have had to that cryptic statement. She was a lovely woman, very professional. The two of them seemed on excellent terms, which given that the prince had explained that they'd worked together made sense. "Ah, yes ma'am, he did let me know what to...to expect." She bit her lip a little, worrying at it with her teeth as she glanced up at him a moment. Just go along with him? She worried she was entirely out of her league here and more often than not she was just having that feeling confirmed with every other word out of their mouths. "Yes, I'm fairly certain that I can at least follow instructions." She smiled a little wanly. Perhaps winning this contest wasn't a very good idea. She wondered if there was still time to back out. She liked writing, loved it in matter of fact, and was very proud and happy that her work had achieved such acclaim. But the idea of being in front of people that weren't dependent on her every word for their passing grade was enough to make her stomach twist slightly.
 
Perseus smiled and offered Theodora his arm, giving her a reassuring smile as he did. "Let's start simple," he said. "Just take my arm and stand with me. We'll do a few standing shots like this, then we'll try walking through the frame for a few shots and go from there, alright?"

Ms. Diaz went back to the camera and began adjusting it, getting ready to take photos of the two. She never really liked working with amateurs and preferred her subjects to have participated in at least one shoot before, but Perseus had a way of putting people at ease. As she settled her lens into focus and made sure that everything was at the right height, Perseus smiled down at Theodora and placed his free hand on top of hers to reassure her. "You'll do great," he said. "Just take a deep breath and smile for the camera and everything will be fine. Just pretend it's not even there; act like you're smiling at a friend just behind the lens."
 
It was fairly obvious that Theodora had no formal training with posing for the cameras. Despite Perseus and Ms. Diaz's best efforts, she still looked stiff and nervous and uncertain. She tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace than anything else, and she felt...clumsy as she moved into the positions that she was asked to take. Honestly, she was fairly certain that anyone looking at these pictures would be able to see the unease she was feeling. And she could tell that Ms. Diaz wasn't precisely pleased with her lack of progress as the photo shoot continued. She'd always hated pictures being taken of her; her mother used to tell stories about how when she was supposed to sit for school photographs, she would scream and cry and refuse to stay still until she was nearly in middle school. She sighed inwardly. Though she'd gotten better at controlling her discomfort, it didn't make the discomfort any less evident.

His hand was warm and surprisingly soft on top of hers and she couldn't help glancing down at it on occasion. He was born to this, it seemed. He moved with a grace and ease that she couldn't muster even in her every day life. His reassurances really did nothing for her and she sighed inwardly. This was really one of the only reasons she hadn't been completely delighted that she'd won the contest. After all, having to parade in front of a camera and have gads of reporters pretend some sort of interest in her wasn't really her idea of a pleasant way to spend her hours. Hopefully she wouldn't waste too much of their time before they figured out how to knock her out so she couldn't continue to go through the photo shoot like a particularly nervous mannequin.
 
Perseus noticed Theo's discomfort and, when it didn't go away after a few more shots, he held up his hand, signaling Ms. Diaz that he wanted to take a break. He smiled down at Theo and lead her away from the lights and cameras to a row of small, portable chairs that had been set up in case either of them needed a rest.

"I want you to know that I mean this in the nicest way possible," he said, motioning for her to take a seat, "but you're very tense. I know that the term "stiff as a board" gets used a lot, but that's you right now. Now, I want you to sit here and take some deep breaths while I help you relax." Without warning and without waiting for Theodora to respond, the prince walked around behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders and started to massage them. It soon became obvious that Perseus knew what he was doing. He wasn't giving her a simple shoulder rub: he was easing the tension out of her shoulders and neck. "You don't have to worry too much about being perfect in front of the camera," he said, his voice gentle and his tone soothing. "Each and every one of these photos is going to go through hours and hours of Photoshop treatments to make sure that they're perfect before they ever get published. Anything that the publicists don't like will be fixed up. What I want you to do is focus on enjoying yourself. This is your day, Theodora; you should be living it up. Once we're done here, we're going to have a nice lunch at Il Granchio Danza, this wonderful gourmet Italian seafood restaurant, and there will be no cameras at all: just you and me talking about the script. Then we'll go and meet the director, get your opinion on who might be best for some of the more major roles and finish off the day with a pleasant dinner in the Imperial Gardens.

"This shoot's going to take maybe twenty more minutes. Now, that twenty minutes can drag on forever or it could be over in a flash and leave you wishing it had been longer. All of that depends on whether you go through it all stiff and scared or you let your hair down, so to speak, and have some fun with it." Perseus leaned over Theo so that he could look down into her eyes, provided she tilted her head back a bit. "I want you to try something I used to do when I got nervous in front of the camera; when we get back out there, I want you to make funny faces at the camera for the next ten or so shots with me. It sounds silly and childish, I know, but never underestimate how good it feels to be rebellious. Besides, I'll be doing it whether you do or not and I don't want to make a fool of myself alone."

He smiled down at her using that same friendly, inviting smile he'd given her since the moment she'd stepped out of the limousine. He genuinely wanted her to have a good time and he was willing to humiliate himself to give it to her.
 
Decorum was everything. She was expected to always comport herself as a lady, to instill that sense of propriety and refinement in her students. Teaching history alone wasn't enough; she was expected to be a good example to her students, to be a confidante and an advocate, to behave as a proper lady and to expect the same behavior from them in turn. And here she was now, sitting with a prince, the very embodiment of the ideas of courtly and proper carriage and regal confidence, and he was telling her to relax. It felt a little strange to her, like going shopping with a police officer and seeing them shoplift. It was so strange to be told to break the rules of proper polite society by a person in a position that embodied those rules.

And of course that was before he began to rub her shoulders. Because that just took the whole thing to an entirely new, surreal level. Not that he wasn't good at it; far from it, her tense muscles seemed to melt under his hands. But it was the familiarity of it that made her nervous. She wasn't...how to put this delicately...she was an academic at heart. With all of the social awkwardness and bashful uncertainty that came with that. She hadn't been around attractive, charming people before without the buffer of a shared interest. And she was fairly sure that only her closest friends would have ever thought of rubbing her neck and shoulders. He was wonderfully good at it but she just couldn't help feeling very shy about the whole thing. Still, she was being silly and he was explaining to her why she was being so silly. It simply wouldn't do for her to not at least attempt to relax around him. "I...suppose you're right." She said quietly, smiling a little at his suggestion that they make silly faces at the camera. "Very well. I'll try to make the most atrociously childish faces possible. And might I remind you, your highness, I teach middle school. I am a bit of a connoisseur of atrociously childish faces." She could manage this. She could do this. And it was going to be the most brilliantly wonderful day of her life.
 
"Well, it looks like I've got a challenge," said Perseus, smiling. "Though I have some experience as well; I've got some little cousins who can misbehave like it's nobody's business when their parents aren't around. And I may or may not join in from time to time." He finished rubbing her shoulders and walked around in front of her, offering Theo his hand. "Shall we?"

For the next fifteen shots, Perseus made faces at the camera alongside Theodora. Besides making bunny ears behind her head, he grimaced, rolled his eyes and even turned up his nose with his thumb. He managed to keep himself composed, as composed as one can be while making faces at a camera, but burst out into fits of giggles between shots. He couldn't speak for Theo, but the prince was enjoying himself immensely. When it seemed like Ms. Diaz was starting to grow tired of their antics, Perseus turned to Theo and grinned at her.

"I think we might be getting on Ms. Diaz's nerves now," he said, in that proud way that a child who had just caused mischief would. "Perhaps it's best if we move on to some poses that she can actually publish? Would you prefer to go back to standing arm in arm or should we waltz?" He cocked an eyebrow slyly, an impish look in his eyes. "Or perhaps you'd prefer some of the more harlequin poses?"
 
She felt terribly foolish to be doing this, but at the same time, it was quite fun to pull the corners of her mouth back with her fingers, to cross her eyes and curl her tongue up to almost touch her nose, to mimic the prince's pig nose expression. It didn't take long for her to find herself dissolving into giggles as well, and bless Ms. Diaz for being so patient with them. The woman looked as though she were having to corral unruly elementary children and she wondered how often the prince did this on photo shoots. Ohh, no one ever saw the photos like this, she was sure, but there had to be ones out there like this. It made her smile a bit to think about it, about him being so relaxed and friendly and open. Not to mention that...much as she hated to admit it, hated to be that sort of girl, it was easy to become desperately infatuated with a man who was so full of easy good humor and playfulness.

However, all the good fun had to come to an end sometime, and she shook her head a bit and rubbed her cheeks to get them to stop tingling from all of the stretchy faces she'd been making. He looked incredibly pleased with himself, and she couldn't deny that such antics did leave one with a certain sense of accomplishment. However, as much fun as it was, she didn't think she was quite ready for Harlequin romance poses just yet. "I...we could..we could try waltzing." She said, looking down at her tweed suit and laughably sensible shoes. "I suppose I might look rather silly waltzing in this." She said, smoothing her jacket and skirt self-consciously. However, she found herself far more relaxed than she had been before, and not just because of his ridiculously wonderful shoulder rub. He was...charming. Not in that coolly impersonal way that she'd always imagined royalty to be, but in a fresh, friendly sort of way. And she liked it. And found herself wishing that she might have more than just one day with him to experience all of the fun and excitement and unruly good humor he exuded so effortlessly.
 
"As you wish, my lady," said Perseus, bowing and offering her his hand with a flourish of his wrist. While the gesture was practiced, it was nowhere near as stiff or formal as his male relatives might perform it. Where his older brothers were stiff as a board, Perseus's body was like a bent bough; there was energy contained in his body ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. And spring he did: the moment Theo's hand touched his, Perseus righted himself and immediately began moving, pulling Theo along with him. Despite the initial shock of sudden movement, it wasn't hard to keep pace with the prince.

While Perseus was a skilled actor, he had a passion for dance that was rivaled by few. Perseus was energetic by nature, so an art form that required motion, such as dance, came naturally to him. Despite the fact that he'd had many lessons in various forms of dance, he was easily able to judge Theodora's skill level and adjust himself to it, making her feel like she was dancing with the prince rather than being dragged along by him. As they danced, Perseus wrapped his arm tightly around Theo's waist, pulling her close to him and pressing her chest against his. He looked down at her, the prince's eyes locking with the teacher's, a smile on his face as the camera captured their likeness. As they danced, Perseus's hand gently slipped lower until it rested on her bottom. Without breaking eye contact, he gave her ass a playful squeeze; while his gaze remained playful, there was a slight hint of calculation in his eyes as he judged her reaction.
 
Theo had never really danced before. Ohh, there had been school socials and such things but she hadn't ever really been involved with those, and she was a teacher herself now, so no dancing involved at any of the school functions she attended; chaperon duty only. So it was more than a little awkard trying to figure out where to put her hands and feet when he'd suddenly swept her up into his arms and began to guide her across the set floor. He was a prince, she reminded herself as she blushed, seeing him looking down at her with a playful expression. It only stood to reason that he'd magnificent at dancing. Even after the events of the Black Rebellion and the changing political map of the world, princes were still expected to be courtly and dashing and cultured. And damned if he didn't live up to the hype.

Of course, that was what made the feel of his hand on her bottom so jarringly unexpected.

She stared up at him, eyes widening behind her glasses, and couldn't help but stumble slightly, her cheeks flaming a bright red. Had he...surely he hadn't meant to do it. Surely it had been an accident, a slip, his hand had just slid off of her hip, that was all. Nothing more to it. She felt her stomach clench slightly as she glanced away, uncertain of how to respond. He didn't...he didn't look as though it had been an accident, but what else could it be? Was he trying to tease her into being less nervous? It had certain backfired because a prince of Britannia squeezing her bottom in the middle of a photo shoot was hardly going to make her less nervous. Was he teasing her? He did have a playful smile on his face, so maybe it was just a joke, a quick little grope to elicit a surprised squeal out of her. Nothing more than that, certainly.
 
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