more_than_actor: (resist me by liars_dance)
Hot woman, cold beer, perfect night.
more_than_actor: (resist me by liars_dance)
Sean had planned on dinner in his suite and a long hot shower, but the read through of the script had taken much less time that he’d thought. It was only 7 PM and after sleeping 12 hours the day before to acclimate himself to the time difference between London and New York, he had far too much energy for a quiet night and early bed. Remembering the flirtation he’d had online with Fin, he flagged a cab and told the driver to take him to the Retro Club.

As he walked inside he was impressed with the tight security at the door, glad to see that it was unlikely Fin would have to deal with another psycho taking shots at her. He was immediately recognized at the door and was escorted straight to the VIP room on the second floor, where a waiter took his order and returned quickly with a Guinness.

One thing he definitely enjoyed was the open set up for VIP’s. Most clubs closed off the celebrity guests from the rest of the club and really what was the point of going out if you couldn’t enjoy the club. Looking down on the scene below him, he was reminded of the clubs he’d gone to in London while at the Royal Academy, loud, raucous and full of people dancing and sweating. Of course back then he’d been more likely to hit one of the local punk clubs, but the only difference there was the quality of music, which he could freely admit was shite ninety percent of the time.

All in all of what he’d seen, Fin had a nice club, the band that was playing were a bit beyond his taste, but the crowd seemed to like them and for all that they were loud, they were quite good. He asked the waiter to inform Fin that he’d arrived and settled back to do a bit of people watching while he waited.
more_than_actor: (serious)
The flickering light from the telly was splintered and refracted through the bottle sitting by his elbow as he sipped single malt and fingered the bandage across the palm of his hand, wondering just how he’d come to this point in his life.

”Damn!” Sean cursed as the window glass slipped from his hands and shattered on the flagstones. An hour’s shopping excursion wasted by a moment’s clumsiness. He muttered under his breath as he bent to pick up the larger pieces, still fuming over the phone call from Abby, telling him he couldn’t have Evie this weekend. He’d wanted to spend time with his girls before he left to start filming on Sharpe, only to be told that Lorna had a trip with school chums, Molly was off to tour castles in Ireland or some such and Abby had already planned a holiday with her new man, his children and Evie.

It seemed he had so little time with them these days and what time he did get was never enough. Not enough to talk over what they were about, to give advice, to frown about the lads they were seeing or just love his daughters. He’d been busy when they were growing and now Lorna was off to University and Molly following close on her heels. His little Button was growing far too fast and Abby seemed determined to schedule the lamb out of any time with her Da.

The whole sorry taffle had him wound tighter than a spring and ready to snap, some days it was all he could do not to go barking mad. Picking up another large shard to drop in the dust bin, he growled in frustration and drew the sharp edge across his palm, then stared in disbelief at the blood welling in the wound and sliding over the abused skin to drip onto the ground.


Fingers stroking the bandage he’d placed on the cut, Sean filled his glass again and wondered what had possessed him to cut himself. He supposed the smart thing to do was to talk to someone, but he’d never really gone for the therapy idea. It seemed to him a real man should just take hold of his boot laces and pull himself up; at this point he wasn’t sure which way up had gone. Reaching for the telephone he called an old mate in the States and asked if he knew someone he could see in Boston. He was filming there for at least the next three months and while the schedule would be brutal, he’d have to work in some time before he shattered completely.
more_than_actor: (laugh)
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Well from the looks of it someone will have to take a number and wait, aye?
more_than_actor: (Default)
Instructions:
1. Ask me to 'interview' you.
2. I'll respond with 5 questions for you.
3. Update your LJ with the answers to my questions.
4. Include this explaination, and offer someone else the chance to interview you.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Questions from [livejournal.com profile] chef_sam
1. What have you done recently that made you happy? Spent the summer with m' lassies in Sardinia. Although seein' the oldest two flirtin' with the wankers on the beach didna make me any too 'appy.

2. What was your favorite thing to do as a kid? Play footie with m'mates and sneak into the Blades matches.

3. Middle name? Mark

4. What would your occupation be if you weren't an actor? I'd be a gardener

5. Who do you look up to? M'Mum, m'first wife Debra and m'mate Viggo. They're the smartest, wisest, most talented people I know.
more_than_actor: (serious)
Sean almost missed the song as he pulled into the car park, but just as he reached for the radio to turn it off, he accidentally bumped the knob and changed the station. The lyrics he had not heard in years filling the auto:

Just a song before I go, a lesson to be learned, travelling twice the speed of sound, its easy to get burned.

The words echoed in his head as he checked in and went to the VIP lounge at Heathrow. A lesson indeed and a hard one it seemed for him, three marriages to women he had fallen for all too quickly, but then that had been his problem, going about with his heart out for any passing bird to nick up, yeah. He had let himself fall at the speed of sound, the sound of a sweet whisper in his ear late at night, his name falling from kiss-swollen lips that tasted of ale, cigarettes and passion.

A right silly bloke he’d been over each one of them, worse than a sixth form girl swooning over some cricket player she fancied who’d finally taken notice and found her heart following her knickers into his grasp. He fell too fast and too hard each time and each time, it had ended up the same way. Each ex-wife said the same thing, he wasn’t who they’d thought he was going to be, he was gone too much, hung with his mates too much, paid them too little attention.

Sweet Debra, his first love and his first lover, what a great bird she was, with a laugh that seemed to bring out the sunshine on the gloomiest Northern day and skin like the finest cream. They’d had a good marriage, lots of laughs, but he’d been bitten well and proper by the acting bug and Debra had no taste for the charms of London. They had gone their separate ways, but once he had started making some decent money, he’d settled a fair piece on her even though she was remarried. Only seemed fair to him that she get a little of her own back, after all it had been Debra who had pushed him to go ahead and take that first acting class at Rotherham.

Then along came Melanie and he fell again, just as fast and hard, but this time it hadn’t been as good, Melanie was looking for something he wasn’t, she wanted the illusion that he built on stage, not the regular bloke from Sheffield. Parties and glamour was her thing and footie and the pub with good mates were his. They had both been close to throwing in the towel when Melanie came up pregnant with Lorna. Things had been very good for a long while after that, both of them in love with their daughter and trying to be good parents; of course, he hadn’t been home as much, off filming. Then they decided to marry and things went downhill pretty fast, but with Lorna and later Molly to think of, neither had been willing to break things off.

After he started filming Sharpe, things settled for a bit between the two of them, but Melanie finally had enough and tossed him out. He’d done his best to change and make things right for the sake of the girls, he and Mel going back and forth, home again then another separation off and on for nearly two years. He’d come home from filming yet another Sharpe to find the summons to the bar for a divorce and that had been that.

Just after his first meeting with Melanie and the lawyers, he’d gone round to a pub for a good pisser and ran into Abigail, whom he’d been working with on Sharpe. They’d gotten drunk, well he’d gotten drunk and she’d seen him back to the flat he taken. That had been on a Thursday and she hadn’t left for a week, at first just holding his hand and listening while he’d moaned over his marriage. What in bloody hell led him to kiss her, he couldn’t rightly say, but he woke on Sunday afternoon with a foul taste in his mouth, a pounding head and an armful of Abigail. That had been in June, he’d signed the Bill of Divorce in August and married Abigail in November.

He’d tried very hard with Abby and was thrilled beyond words at the birth of Evie. Truth be told, he and Abby should have left it at a bit of slap and tickle and parted friends, but he’d fallen again and his working class morals said marriage. It had taken two weeks to convince Abigail to give it a go, but he had finally worn down all her arguments against it.

There had been plenty of sly comments about the timing of their marriage, but gossips and busybodies aside, he had been completely faithful to Melanie and never touched Abigail until after Melanie had made it clear nothing he could say would see them putting things back together again.

He had really thought he and Abigail could make a go of it, yeah. He’d settled down quite a bit, was home more than he had been with Melanie. Then came the chance to play Boromir and at first Abigail had been behind him 100 percent, but then the separation began to wear away at her. He’d just come in from a ghastly day of filming in New Zealand that had lasted well past dark and found her letter waiting in the post. She had broken it off in a bloody letter, not even by phone or waiting the two weeks until he would be home for a short break, but in the sodding post.

God, what a shocker that had been, yeah. Set him reeling for a while, until Viggo had noticed how offput he was. Good old Viggo, dear old mate. The American had shown up on his stoop with plenty of drink and a willing ear. He’d seen Sean through a right pisser and nursed him through the morning after, pretending not to notice when the Brit cried, but listening intently to his drunken ramble on the perfidies of the fairer sex. His mate had helped him draw out the worst of the pain like poison from a wound and then steadied him until he could stand on his own again.

One thing the split with Abigail had shown him for good and all was that he had to guard his heart more carefully. Keep it in close and not give it away to a pretty face and a nice pair of breasts. He was fairly well done in on women as far as the long term went, he’d take his pleasure with willing partners, but keep his hasty heart locked up tight. No more falling at the speed of sound, that only got you burnt, aye? He’d been burnt too often to want to risk that pain again. His lesson was learnt right proper and he wouldn’t make the same mistake again, yeah.
more_than_actor: (honest)
He dropped his bags in the bedroom and rambled through the house, large and empty, but all his and home. No not really home, it was never home unless his girls were there. In between, it was just a house. What was it Mum had always said, ‘Home isn’t where yeh hang yeh hat, Shaunie, it’s where yeh lay yeh heart.’ Dear Mum, always so right. He didn’t stand a chance to lay his heart here without his daughters mucking about, having their little rows over who got the bathroom first to get ready on Saturday night or what to watch on the telly.

That was the one thing he hated most about going on location, he missed time with his girls, but that time seemed shorter and shorter as they grew up and away from him. Moving out into the big wide world almost in the blink of an eye; it seemed only yesterday he held Lorna in his arms for the very first time, his eyes filled with tears as he looked into the eyes of the most perfect and beautiful baby ever born. Then came Molly and there were two most perfect and beautiful babies and with Evie that made three.

Sean loved being a father more than anything in the world, but these last few years he had been so busy being an actor that he hadn’t had the time he’d like with the girls. Maybe this summer might be a good chance to reconnect with his daughters, take them away on holiday somewhere they could all enjoy; maybe Monte Carlo or perhaps he’d take them to Tahiti. Just the four of them exploring the tropics together, the clear water, the beautiful scenery and his lovelies. He’d call their mums tomorrow and see if they’d let him have the girls for more than a week or two, although in the case of Lorna and Molly their mum wouldn’t have much say, his girls were more than old enough to decide for themselves.

Pouring himself a whiskey, he used the remote to turn on the telly, lazily settling in, the thought of his girls bringing him finally home.
more_than_actor: (laugh)
Well I have truly found hell on Earth. I’ve been knocking about working and came home to realize my little girls are becoming young women., beautiful young women who attract young men, of which I used to be one in the long ago of pre-history. I know exactly what the cheeky wee bastards have on their minds and the thought of my Lorna or Molly going about with some strapping lad whose brain is still trapped in his bollocks makes me want to geld any male I see breathing in their direction.

I read somewhere that daughters are God’s punishment for being a man and looking at my darlings makes me swear it’s the truth. I can remember when the only man in their lives was Da and now its ‘Da can I take the car and Da I need the charge card.’ I think I’m turning into m’ Da, I can remember him saying much the same about m’ sister Lorraine.

Well at least I have my little Evie, yeah. For now my little girl is still just a girl and Da is still her favorite man. Although lately she’s been on at me to tell her everything I know about Orlando Bloom, so I suppose my hell will be going on for a while.
more_than_actor: (laugh)
Well I’m told the first thing I’m supposed to do is introduce myself, yeah? My name is Sean and I’m from Yorkshire; Sheffield to be exact. I’m the father of three daughters, a gardener and a Sheffield United fan. I live in London now although I travel quite a bit, but I do go home as often as I can to watch the games and hang in the pub with m’ mates.

My eldest, Lorna, said I should try m’ hand at this journal thing, so here I am. There’s not a lot more to say about me. Oh aye and I make m’living as an actor.

God, did that sound like an advert in the personals column?


ooc-Sean is open to RP.

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more_than_actor

July 2008

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