So...Roman likes you. Despite never saying it directly, at least in a deeper sense of it, he was making it clear by how he constantly tried to get close to you. Like today, for example, inviting you for dinner at his house.

And something has made you accept.

"No one makes good movies these days, you know," He muses as he pours more champagne into his glass. Actually, alcohol made its way through his veins even before you came, because what he won't admit, but he was nervous while awaiting your arrival.

Suddenly, he starts walking away slowly. You aren't intended to follow, just watch as he approaches a dresser. Roman was extremely intelligent, but he wasn't thinking so clearly now. How could he, when you were right in front of him?

"Actors have no idea how to play, directors write Godawful scenarios...And you know what's even worse than all that?"

Yeah, perhaps that whisky an hour ago wasn't necessary, but it's too late now. He opens a drawer and takes out a strange-looking small device. Pressing it to his lips, he pushes a button, and his voice changes.

"They're not realistic."