Chapter Text
Chapter 1 – First Impressions
The dress hung on the closet door in all its ridiculous glory. It certainly hadn’t been the most expensive that she’d seen, but it still cost more than Maggie had ever thought she’d pay for something she’d only wear once. She chuckled to herself as she remembered Richard’s face when she threatened to show up in sackcloth. That had been after she had come home from the fifth store empty-handed, having found nothing that hadn’t made her feel silly or outraged her sense of fiscal propriety. But the sixth store had been the charm and she had fallen in love with the pretty white dress with just the hint of something sparkly. When she put it on, she felt like a princess and she knew she had to have it. She hadn’t even blinked when she heard the price.
It was funny how life was like that: one minute, there were things you swore you would never do, and the next minute those very things somehow became the right ones.
And so she sat in a hotel room that cost more for one night than she had sometimes made in an entire month, with someone – and here was the ultimate irony – doing her makeup and hair, waiting to put on the ridiculous white dress and heels that made her feel like a princess so that she could stand in front of family, friends, and God to say out loud what she’d known in her heart for so long that she couldn’t remember NOT knowing it: she loved Richard with all her heart and soul, and she always would.
It might not seem like it anymore, but it hadn’t always been that way. It had begun, as such things often do, quietly and unobtrusively, with no indication that it was the momentous occasion it turned out to be…
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Leaving home for a year and half hadn’t been the easiest decision. Leaving home for a year and a half and moving to the other side of the planet from Scotland had made it even harder. Maggie knew there would be no option at that distance for quick visits when she got homesick, but she had decided to make the move anyway. She’d never get the chance to be a part of something like The Hobbit again, so when she was offered the opportunity to replace a prosthetic artist who’d pulled out of the production at the last minute, she knew she couldn’t turn it down. After a few weeks of navigating a new country, a new work environment, new people, and endless production meetings, the cast had finally arrived and the real work was about to start. Her first assignment was head-casting the Dwarves.
The first two had gone well, and she was just filling out some of the paperwork while she waited for Richard Armitage. She smiled internally as she thought about how her sister-in-law would absolutely flip when she found out Maggie was going to get to touch THE Guy of Gisborne’s face. She heard footsteps and turned just as Richard reached her and extended his hand to shake.
“Hi. You’re…Mairead?”
Her mind instantly went blank and it had nothing to do with how he looked or sounded. She had been prepared for that because she owned a television and didn’t live under a rock. To be fair, he was even better looking in person (somehow, unbelievably), but that wasn’t what brought her up so short. She stood there, still holding his hand with her mouth half-open, and she knew she must look ridiculous.
“Are you…all right? I’m Richard and I’m supposed to meet with you? You’re making a mold of my face.” He was speaking to her like she was mentally defective – which he probably thought she was.
“Yeah. No. I mean…yes, I’m fine.” She laughed and gave her head a shake. Now that she had started speaking, thought was becoming easier. “I’m sorry…I…you said my name right.” He gave her a look that she couldn’t interpret and she figured she needed to explain further. “I’ve had this conversation so many times that I automatically just get ready to say, “no, it rhymes with parade” but I didn’t need to do that and I just had no idea what to say instead. I’m so sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. Stop babbling, daftie.
“If it helps, I could mispronounce it for you,” he said with his eyes - so damn blue - twinkling in amusement.
“No, thanks, it’s okay. I think I’ve got it now,” she grinned. “But just go ahead and call me Maggie. Everyone does. The only time I’m ever Mairead is with my family and in end credits. Please, have a seat.” He did so as she leaned on the worktable, picked up a clipboard, and started writing.
“How do most people say it?”
“What? Oh. MAY-reed.” She rolled her eyes and kept writing. “Richard…Arm…itage…”
“You said my name right.”
She turned her head toward him and they locked eyes. So impossibly blue. Wow. “Well,” she said with a shrug, “I’ve got an advantage. I have heard of you.” She stood and turned to put the clipboard down and took a second to gather her thoughts. Every moment since he had taken her hand had been unsettling, and she was usually so professional. Not a good start. Come on, Drummond. Get it together. She turned and perched on the worktable again. “Okay, Richard, I’m going to try to get you out of here as quickly as possible, but I need to ask you a few questions first. Have you ever had a life-cast of your head before?”
He shook his head and she was off and running, falling into the familiar pattern of experience. She explained the process, asked if he was prone to claustrophobia (he wasn’t), warned him that some people still panicked once the silicone was on (that’s why she told everyone she head-casted to bring music that either made them happy or soothed them so they’d have something on which to focus), and then went through the simple thumbs up/thumbs down responses to the questions she asked. Finally, she entreated him to make every attempt not to move his face, even if he panicked, so they wouldn’t have to do it all again. Once he indicated he understood what he needed to do, she put his playlist on (a pop mix – she’d heard worse) and got started – first prepping him, then applying the silicone goo, and finally, the plaster strips for the outer shell. Good heavens, this man smells good.
“Okay, Richard, now we wait. How are you feeling?” Thumbs up. “Good. I forgot to mention that some people actually fall asleep at this point and I need you not to do that. Whether you wake up yourself or I wake you, you’ll probably freak out and mess up the mold. So stay awake, okay?” Another thumbs up.
Every few minutes while the silicone set, she’d ask how he was and he’d always answer promptly with a thumbs up. Finally, the timer she set went off and it was time to free him. He followed her instructions for moving parts of his face to loosen the mold perfectly, and it came off cleanly. She handed him a towel while she inspected the inside of the mold. She had been so immersed in the process that she had managed to forget how deep and sexy his voice was. When he spoke, she almost dropped the mold.
“You’re very…efficient.” Was that a compliment or an insult?
She gave a short laugh. “Well, yours is somewhere around the four hundredth head-casting I’ve done so I do have it down to a bit of a science at this point. We’re all done here, by the way. This looks perfect and you did great.”
“You’re not doing hands?”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure how the hands will be done or if you’ll need to be casted. They’ll let you know the where, the when, and the who like they did with this.”
“Oh. You wouldn’t be doing it?”
“I might,” she shrugged. “Or I might not. Depends on when they want it done and if I’m finished making thirteen Dwarf-head models or not.”
“Ah. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you…May-reed.”
He smirked. SMIRKED! Part of her wanted to smack him, and the other part wanted to… Do. Not. Go. There.
“Oh no, the pleasure was all mine…Monsieur Armitahzh.”
He was chuckling as he left, and as she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that there was no need to do a butt-cast. And with that highly unprofessional thought, she waited for the next Dwarf in line.