Barbara Palvin at the Cannes festival 2013
here’s a secret i’m actually hopelessly in love with sam rockwell
He raised his eyebrows, a bit startled by how suddenly she accepted, but slid out of the booth when she pulled on her coat.
“Your apartment is fine, so long as your absinthe isn’t shit,” he said with a shrug. He was glad she was so comfortable with him, briefly wondered if she thought he was gay, decided it didn’t matter.
“I only buy the best,” she insisted, getting out of the booth as well as she wrapped Pierre’s leash a few times around her hand. “And, of course, got all the shit to prepare it properly,” she added in a mumble, eyes traveling briefly around the cafe — for what, she wasn’t sure, though perhaps it could have just been general paranoia.
She came back to her senses with a look toward MK, and she motioned for him to follow her toward the door. “Sorry, I just don’t feel comfortable in other people’s houses,” she explained with a shrug of her shoulders.
Greg saw her frown out of the corner of his eye and he sighed, rubbing his thumb up his glass, capturing beads of condensation. He was a fool, denying the attention of a beautiful woman, so he relaxed the glare he had set upon his face, taking another sip of his lager. ”No, it’s alright. You’d figure I ought ro be used to it by now.” He replied, a sheepish grin on his face, trying to appear friendly.
Mackenzie shrugged again, taking a drink from her own beer as she leaned against the bar, facing forward. “Well, just because you’re used to it, doesn’t mean that it’s not still irritating,” she tried, placing her beer down before turning to face him.
“Let’s start fresh, yeah? I’m Mackenzie,” she grinned and held her hand out toward him. “Nice to meetcha.”