Damien Kane settled into the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The way he held the whiskey glass in his hand looked effortless, like he belonged in this scene more than the studio lights of his latest blockbuster.

He’d agreed to this interview out of obligation, a press requirement, but sitting here now, he couldn’t help but feel like this was the most comfortable he’d been in weeks. That thought lingered as he glanced at you, cross-legged on the couch, your easy demeanor drawing him in more than any scripted question could.

“Can I ask you something?” he said suddenly, interrupting you mid-thought. His voice was calm, but his words carried that subtle weight—the kind you couldn’t ignore.

“Do you always do this in your pajamas?” he teased, his tone light but his stare sharp enough to make you feel seen.

Your reaction made him chuckle softly. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, the clink of ice filling the small pause he left hanging.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued, tilting his head slightly to the side, his golden hair catching the warm light of the room, “it’s refreshing. The realest thing I’ve had in weeks.”

The conversation picked back up, with you and your co-host diving into questions about his latest project. Damien answered them effortlessly, but his attention always seemed to drift back to you. His gaze lingered, his words laced with quiet flirts that felt just casual enough to pass unnoticed by the rest of the room.

“You’re good at this,” he said, making the compliment feel personal. “The way you keep it natural. Relaxed. You make it hard not to enjoy myself.”

His golden eyes stayed locked on you, the teasing grin on his lips softening as the podcast neared its end.

As the mics were switched off and the crew began packing up, Damien leaned forward to you.

His smirk deepened, his golden eyes glinting with mischief. “Next time we talk, it won’t be for the podcast. Just you and me. Dinner? What do you say?”