The following takes place some time after the events in The Hallways.
It's also open given that this thread starts with the conclusion of this episode's filming.))
((Continued from: The Hallways))
It's not quite the Pacific view, but it works...
The sun glowed a bright yet tolerable orange as it neared the end of its journey toward the western horizon. The sky was aflame in beautiful shades of red, and in the direction one would look out, one could witness the fiery streaks of orange glowing off the bottoms of the few clouds there were. The view out to the ocean was increasingly colored with the darkening blues that heralded the incoming night, the stars blinking on up above, to decorate the void. The off-white moon slowly floated among the stars, on its own journey through the stellar cycle.
At the pier just down the beach, the light pollution from the amusement park was minimal, and the beam of guidance from the lighthouse in the opposite direction wasn't obstructing the view too much either.
All in all, it wasn't as much a romantic view (that would be left for the Pacificans) as it was a view for reflection on things past. A view that tomboy Rita Valentine and the handsomely dorky Robby McBride found perfect for occastions like these, as they sat at the edge of the old pier. A breeze swept through Rita's flaming red shoulder-length hair, and combined with the fading sunlight it almost seemed like her head was on fire. Contrary to that her boy-size t-shirt and cargo jeans weren't disturbed in the least, much less her sneakers. The same went for Robby's casual clothing.
"That was harsh, what you did to Eva back there," Robby began, with concern. Eva Bartlett and her mean-chicks clique were always standing in the way of Rita trying to impress whichever hot or otherwise handsome teen male she'd go after.
"Yeah...but somehow, I don't care if Principal Williams throws the book at me." Rita replied, a bit non-chalant. She was never in Williams' good graces, and it surprised her that she hadn't been kicked out of Roosevelt High for her constantly delivering Eva her come-uppance.
"He probably won't, but having her skirt slip down like that is quite the public secret."
"Heh, she won't forget that for a while." she chuckled before turning to her stricken brother-in-arms. He looked like he was anticipating something, and it wouldn't be good. "Hey, what's wrong?"
"Eva was pretty pissed at both of us."
"Don't worry, Bob. We've been there for each other. As friends. She knows she'll have to get through me to get to you."
"I guess..."
The two looked out at the Atlantic and sighed.
"I never told you, Rita..." Robby starts, turning to face Rita.
"Told me what?"
Robby hesitates. "...Nothing. Just..." Robby blushed, though it wasn't that visible in the sinking light. "...this view. It's not the Pacific, but it works."
Rita forces a laugh and slings an arm around his shoulder. The two lean toward each other, shoulder-to-shoulder and heads nearly touching. Somehow, deep inside, she knows what he really meant to say. She didn't think she was quite ready to reply to it either.
"Yeah...I guess it works." she says with a soft, reassuring smile.
Fade to black.
"A~nd....cut!" comes a voice from just behind them, and the video editing people will add the credits.
The cameras stop rolling, and Reneé Valenti swiftly removes co-star Michael Parker from her embrace. She stretches her arms, partially in frustration for having finally wrapped up another episode whose premiere probably won't be for a few more months and will be delayed even further by SOTF pre-empting, well, pretty much everything. And there were still a few more episodes before Robby actually made a non-subtle move to take their just-friends relationship to a level that fans of the show have been waiting for.
Both Valenti and Parker start walking back toward the filming arrangement.
"That's a wrap, people, good show!" announces Clifford Lane, the 30-something-yet-20s-handsome director with years of teen-show experience in his belt - and rumoredly below the belt as well. "Reneé, you never cease to amaze!" Lane exclaims, opening his arms to embrace his (latest) starlet.
Valenti brushes him off, but doesn't make it seem offensive. "Sure, thanks."
"Look, Reneé," Lane replies, both appeasingly yet sternly, "last I heard this Survivor thing or whatever it's called, it's gonna be done by tomorrow. These episodes, we're getting them done ahead of schedule."
"Right. I just...need some space." she counters, clearly wanting nothing to do with the show for the time being.
Valenti heads toward the modest snack table and picks up a donut before sitting down on a nearby chair. Her parents' training for her had effectively steered her diet away from junk food, though she would often break it to 'treat' herself. Not that she'd let go of a diet that had made her quite the bombshell. As for Rita Valentine, she knew her parents disdained her taking such a "plastic" role straight out of her drama club in junior high, though they still hoped she'd join them in the ranks of esteemed Broadway actors. The potential for true stardom, it seemed, was greater in these roles than being relegated to some star-lit avenue in one corner of the world. Actors that had gone back and forth from Hollywood to Broadway notwithstanding.
She started to think of what she was going to do once she got back to the real-life educational grind, just to take her mind off her family. Particularly if she had managed to splinter Kristey from Damien, or even better, direct her rage toward the person she "protected." She grinned at the possibilities before sinking her teeth into the jelly-filled pastry.
She had to admit, at least, that cargo jeans were a refreshing alternative to her Gilroy skirt.