#like i love marlene dietrich but something about anna had me feeling feelings

[workinghardforthemoney]

anna may wong as hui fei in 'shanghai express' (1932)

[serasvictoria]

Participated in the following challenge set by @mercurygray

Using one of my Central Casting generators or another random generator of your choice, pick an a name, and, if desired, the backstory given, for a new character. Write a short snippet or create a drawing/sketch that introduces them to the fandom property of your choice, and establishes them as a leading person worth paying attention to. (Bonus points if they play opposite to a canon character you don’t usually write. Blind dates for the muse, remember?)

My character is one Frances Elliott who is a USO performer based in Paris. And since she is in Paris, I went with the character that I absolutely cannot write one Richard Winters. So hopefully this makes sense.

Care to dance?

They came for Marlene Dietrich. They always came for her.

It didn’t surprise her really since the woman was stunning and magnetic. There was something about her that just demanded attention whenever she even as much as walked into the room. Every woman paled into insignificance next to Marlene Dietrich. Not that Fran thought that she wasn’t worthy, not at all, she just wasn’t Marlene. But since the Hollywood star was currently putting on a show in Rheims, the men would have to settle for her and the other girls tonight.

“Frances.” Looking up from her magazine, she watched mister Ward walking up to her and since he had a slightly pained expression on his face, she wondered what was going on. “You went to a conservatory, right?”

“Sure did.” Despite not knowing why he was asking her this, she beamed him a large smile regardless since she knew that he had said on multiple occasions that the girls should be happy at all times. “Studied at Ellison-White in Portland, sir. I can play the piano and other instruments too if you want me to.”

“We already have a girl on piano, no plans for any other instruments, but we don’t have someone to sing the solo tonight.”

“But Anna always does the solo whenever miss Dietrich is away.”

“She does, but she fell down some stairs and twisted her ankle so she won’t be able to make it tonight. You’re taking her place.”

“Okay.” The word came out a lot softer than she had intended, but she collected herself fairly quickly. “Okay, sir. I’ll do it.”

“I wasn’t exactly giving you the option to refuse.”

“I know you weren’t, sir.”

Frances Elliott had essentially been persuaded into joining the USO. Their search for pretty American girls who knew how to sing or had other talents had brought them to various colleges up and down the country and that was where they had found her. Apparently she had instantly impressed with her rendition of Smoke Gets In Your Eyes and the talent scout had practically begged her to join the USO. Her teacher, miss Silverstone, had really made it very clear to her what an excellent opportunity this was when she seemed slightly reluctant to take the offer.

“Just think of the millions of girls up and down the country who would love to be able to join the USO, but won’t even get a chance. And now someone has shown up and they want you and you’re unsure about whether you should take this opportunity or not.”

Fran hadn’t been treated to a speech of such magnitude since her mother had lectured her on the importance of finding herself a good husband. Her mother had naturally been ecstatic that her daughter was joining the USO, because it would be putting her in the path of single men, men in uniform even which seemed to be a step up from normal men, and surely she would find a good husband there. It was all her mother asked her about in letters as well. Because here she was, almost two years on and she still didn’t have a ring on her finger.

Truth be told, all that Fran wanted to do with the rest of her life was play guitar and write songs. Maybe get a job being a backing guitarist for a good vocalist or join a big band. Though the big dream was to be able to compose a song for a singer. Maybe this line of work would put her in the path of Helen Forrest and she’d be able to impress her enough that Helen would ask her to write something just for her. She knew it was a long shot, but that was one dream that she wasn’t willing to let go of just yet.

There were some plans between some of the girls to start their own act after all of this, but she had a feeling that it was all talk since most of the girls were perfectly content doing this. Singing, dancing and meeting men in the armed forces. Many of them ultimately fell for a man in a uniform despite rules clearly advising against it.

The girls should be lucky that they were a lot less supervised in Paris then they were back on American soil. She’d started out in a USO club back home and they wouldn’t have tolerated any of the things that the girls up to in France. She could name at least four girls who regularly accompanied service men back to their hotel rooms.

All Fran did was sing, dance, talk and write the occasional letter. And this evening she’d be one of the headliners and she had to do everything in her power to make sure that she was going to be as unforgettable as Marlene Dietrich.

*****

Her performance went brilliantly if she said so herself. She’d sung Cheek to Cheek and I’m in the Mood for Love and got an applause of a magnitude that was usually only reserved for the big names, not for some nobody from Oregon. When she made her way out into room, several men came over for a chat to compliment her on her singing and how entertained they had been.

During these talks she noticed that there was one man in the room who remained seated, looking slightly unsure of himself. Fran had never seen him before so maybe he didn’t know how it worked here. When she found herself otherwise unoccupied about twenty minutes later, she approached his seat and he looked up momentarily, probably thinking that she was going to be refilling his empty coffee cup.

“Care to dance?”

“I’d rather...”

“Every soldier that walks through these doors has to dance, sir.”

“Oh. Well, I... I had no idea.”

With a smile she extended her hand to him and he took it graciously, letting her lead him onto the floor and then awkwardly putting one hand on her back, taking care not to put it down too low. She looked at the badges on his jacket, having learned to recognise a few during her time here.

Airborne. Infantry. Combat infantry. She was positive that he was an officer, but she wasn’t sure about the rank. There were no bars, stars or oak leaves on his lapel and she didn’t know how to read the other pins on his jacket.

Her partner was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual in and of itself. She’d learned to do the talking for them, tell them what they wanted to hear. About how Marlene Dietrich’s legs really did look that nice up close. Believe her, she had checked. Or the time that she had seen Rita Hayworth from a distance and how fiery red her hair was. And yes, Bob Hope really was that funny and how hard he had worked to make them feel at ease, to make them laugh. Or how he was the same height as Clark Gable and how handsome mister Gable was, but not as handsome as the man in front of her of course. Tell them what they want to hear, but don’t make them feel inadequate.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

His question took her aback momentarily. She hardly ever answered questions about herself. Instead always telling men about the big stars, because she was convinced that they’d rather hear her talking about them instead of the mundane life that she lived back home.

“Nothing special. Wouldn’t you rather hear more about miss Dietrich?”

“She’s not here. You are.”

“Well, I... I’m not sure where to...”

“You have a beautiful voice.”

“Oh. Why thank you. I was just filling in for another girl, sir. She twisted her ankle and couldn’t make it.” Anna was far better at working the crowd then she ever was. “You should come back tomorrow to hear her sing if you’re still here, sir. Anna’s got the voice of an angel.”

“Your voice sounded beautiful enough.”

“Thank you, sir. Very kind of you to notice.” She could feel a blush begin to rise on her cheeks. She was used to being a chorus girl and blending into the crowd, not this. She found herself blurting out the only thing about herself that her mind could come up with to talk about on such short notice. “I-I’m from Salem, sir. Oregon. Not east coast Salem. Wouldn’t know anything about witches or anything like that, sir.”

He looked faintly amused and she briefly wondered whether he was on the verge of laughing at her before he opened his mouth.

“Lancaster. Pennsylvania.”

“Oh. I’ve never been there, sir. Nice?”

“It is. Why do you keep calling me sir?”

“Well, because you’re an officer, sir. I wouldn’t know about rank or anything since I don’t know how to read these,” she briefly brushed her fingers over the pins on his jacket. “But I know an officer when I see one. Officers carry themselves differently, sir.”

“You’re not one of my men. The sir isn’t necessary.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know what else to call you.”

“Dick. Richard Winters.”

“Dick.” She repeated his name once before telling him her own. “My name is Fran. Frances Elliott.”

“I don’t really know how this works, Fran.”

“You’re doing fine, Dick.” So he was new in town. Probably arrived that very day. “How long are you in town for?”

“Two more days.”

“Oh well, you have plenty of things left to see then! The Eiffel Tower, Notre-Dame, Sacré-Coeur...” She stopped herself. Most of the men that came here weren’t exactly looking for culture, they were looking for entertainment. “Or if you... you know, were looking for a companion...” His face instantly went as red as his hair. “Oh! I wasn’t... I didn’t... not me!” And now her face turned a similar shade. “I just meant, that I know what district you can find that in. If you’re looking.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Oh thank god.” He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I didn’t mean to imply... oh god. This is awkward. But at least you’re smiling. No man is allowed to leave without a smile on their face.”

“I won’t. That one of the rules?”

“Yes. Mister Ward’s quite clear on that one. Not that you have to smile until your face hurts or anything. I’m pretty sure they don’t want to that to happen. No matter how handsome you are when you smile.” She bit her lip because of what she’d just blurted out. “Oh, I shouldn’t have said that. Anna tells me off about having no filter all the time.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Not just saying that to be nice?”

“No.” His answer was short and to the point and she found herself believing him. “So where should I go?”

“What do you mean? After leaving?”

“In Paris.”

“Oh. I’d recommend Notre-Dame. It’s a very beautiful building and there are some other places nearby that you could visit.” She loved spending time near the large church herself. “There’s a beautiful fountain nearby that should be on your list. Oh and a smaller 13th century church that you could visit if you like that sort of thing. A few squares. I could spend hours there without ever getting bored.”

“Do you give tours as well?”

“Well, I... Would you like one?”

“I’d love one.”

“Oh.” She started blushing again. She thought she’d been making an ass of herself, but he didn’t seem to share that sentiment. “I should probably...”

She moved him away from the dance floor and noted the relief on his face over not having to dance anymore. She wondered why, because he was an excellent dancer and should clearly be doing it more often. Leading him to the bar, she asked for a pen and a piece of paper and started writing on it.

“Here.” She handed him the bit of paper that she had just scribbled her address on. “Call on me at ten. I mean, if that’s a good time for you. Is it? A good time for you?”

“Yes.” He really wasn’t giving her a lot to work with here, cool as a cucumber this one. “See you tomorrow at ten.”

“Okay. Hope I’ll be able to sufficiently entertain you tomorrow.”

“I have no doubt that you will.” In a gesture that seemed like it might come from another age entirely, but was strangely apt for Dick Winters from Pennsylvania he took her hand and kissed the back of it quickly with a slight blush on his cheeks. “Goodnight.”

“Night.”

Fran watched him go and briefly wondered whether this was the start of something beautiful or if he was just being polite. One thing was for sure, he sure was a proper gentleman.