#ted tally

[arnoatabekyan]

The Silence of the Lambs - Fan Poster

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

The Silence of the Lambs is an unnerving film with memorable scenes, intense performances and terrific characters… along with plenty of gore. This makes it a horror film - the only one to ever win an Academy Award for Best Picture - so far. On its own, the central mystery would be enough but we get much, much more.

25-year-old FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is assigned to interview Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), a former psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer apprehended six years ago. Officially, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) wants her to convince Hannibal to fill out a questionnaire. Unofficially, he hopes she can convince Hannibal to help find “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), a serial killer who has been abducting and murdering women.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize that director Jonathan Demme isn’t simply giving us another serial killer detective story. When Clarice hops into an elevator at the academy, all of the men inside tower over her. While she isn’t the only woman studying to become an FBI agent, there’s a recurring theme of her being debased or disrespected because she is a woman. Jack Crawford makes an unintentional remark to some police officers, Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald) at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane doesn’t take her seriously and makes certain assumptions about her interview with Lecter (considering what Crawford says later, he might be slightly right), at least one inmate gets particularly lewd once he sees her. The theme continues with Buffalo Bill, who has a fundamental misunderstanding of what a woman even is, which leads him to commit his gruesome - and bizarre - murders. The only person (besides a female student played by Kasi Lemmons) who seems to treat Clarice with respect… is Hannibal.

Labelling Clarice as nothing more than "the film's female aspiring FBI agent" would be a mistake. Starling is a memorable character. She’s resourceful, smarter than she looks, doesn’t easily get rattled, and develops this odd sort of relationship with Lecter that says a lot about who she is and why she wants to join the FBI. At one point, Hannibal is offering her clues that could help her apprehend Buffalo Bill but in exchange, he demands to know more about her childhood. Obviously, he's using the techniques he learned as a psychologist to gather more information than even we could understand. During the interrogation, we learn where the movie's title comes from. Considering all of the grisly sights we see, it’s telling that the most chilling moment is that exchange. There’s something about Lecter that’s so dangerous. He’s classy. He’s smart. He always seems to have the perfect remark whenever anyone says anything to him. He’s alluring but just as you start getting close to the glass, you remember that he’s a monster.

With Clarice and Hannibal sufficiently covered, we can now talk about the mystery. If it took me this long, it's because if the movie was just a conversation between those characters, it would be enough. You’re glued to the screen watching them interact. You’re having a great time putting the pieces together, trying to figure these people out. Then, they part ways and you remember "Oh, right! The mystery!" How could you have forgotten? Buffalo Bill has captured another victim (Brooke Smith as Catherine Martin, who actually creates a memorable character with her few scenes). There’s only so much time before he does whatever it is he does to her. We've seen the other victims. We don't quite understand what it is that's going to happen, but we know it's not good. Martin’s mother, a U.S. Senator (Diane Baker) has the power to accelerate processes - anything to get her daughter back. Hannibal knows it. So does Clarice. Jonathan Demme and screenplay writer Ted Tally (who bases it off of the novel by Thomas Harris) keep playing tennis with you, moving you from the interviews with Lecter, to the mystery with the FBI and back again.

The Silence of the Lambs is a thriller that makes you sweat. Its horror elements will make you uneasy and one thing’s for sure, there’s no forgetting this movie once you’ve seen it. The performances are exceptional and even some of the smaller parts are far and above what you’d expect to see, even in a classy horror film - well, as classy as you can be when you have severed heads in bottles and rotting corpses dug out of rivers. I'm returning to the idea that it is a horror movie because it's an important quality of Silence of the Lambs. It's gruesome, it's thrilling, it's filled with engaging characters and it is undeniably frightening. (On Blu-ray, January 16th, 2023)

[marcovaleyeah]

07.12.24

#Marco-Marathon | Hannibal

Film Name: The Silence of the Lambs (1991); Production Studios: Orion Pictures, Strong Heart/Demme Production; Director by: Jonathan Demme; Screenwriter: Ted Tally; Starring: Jodie Foster, Anthony Hopkins, Scott Glenn, Ted Levine, Brooke Smith; Genres: Thriller, Criminal, Detective, Drama; Running Time: 1 hour 58 minutes;

"The Silence of the Lambs" (1991) is a masterpiece thriller, where Jodie Foster impresses as Clarice Starling and Anthony Hopkins creates the iconic image of Hannibal Lecter. The tension is maintained thanks to a sharp script, atmospheric cinematography and impeccable direction by Jonathan Demme. The film skillfully combines a detective story with psychological horror, exploring complex themes of manipulation and inner fears.

Five stars — a standard of the genre that remains unforgettable even today.

My rating:

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

[moviesinfocus]

Behind The Scenes: Anthony Hopkins, Jodie Foster & Jonathan Demme On The Set Of THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS

Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs is a piece of cinema that manages to work not only as a prestige picture, but also as a horror film. We’ll have no mention of  ‘elevated horror’ when talking about this film, thank you very much. Demme’s film is pure gothic terror – right down to the dungeon cell of Anthony Hopkins‘ Hannibal Lecter. The Silence Of The Lambs follows Jodie Foster’s FBI…

[thebestestwinner]

See pinned post for the full bracket!

[irenydraws]

early attempt to teach myself how to use comic draw....scene from terra nova by ted tally, the stage play about the british polar party feat. roald amundsen as an avatar of death that only robert falcon scott can see. i simply think everyone should read it (and you can! here!)

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Summer Sun, Something's Begun

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: "You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much." with Roy :)

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Roy Kent x Reader

2.1k words

Warnings: Language, Chelsea!Roy, lots of fluff and flirting

Author's Note: This takes place during Roy's time in Chelsea, so he's in his mid-20s. The reader is his manger's very off-limits daughter, early 20s. I loved writing this so much, I'm going to add more to it later- so keep an eye out! 👀

Summers were for Chelsea.

For as long as you could remember, as soon as the school year ended, your mind focused on nothing but football. Throughout your childhood, you’d join your father at the facilities, watching the team prepare for the new season. Everything about it felt magical: the green of the pitch, the bright blue skies above, the shouts and excitement from the team. You looked forward to the first day of term, when everyone spoke about their summer holidays, the places they’d visited and the friends they got together with, when you would gush about the players you watched train and the matches you attended.

Now, you packed your bags at the end of each term and came home from uni, still feeling that same flutter of joy as you thought about training. A young adult yourself now, your dad still let you loiter around the team. Pretty much since you were old enough to drive, he treated you more like an assistant, asking you to grab lunches or help answer emails. As far as summer jobs went, this one felt like a great deal to you; hang out with your dad and the squad all day and get paid in match tickets whenever you and your mates wanted.

Of course, your role at the club wasn’t the only thing that changed. As a child, the players doted on you, asking about your dog or kicking around the ball with you before hitting the showers. You were Chelsea’s little princess, running around in jean shorts and too-big t-shirts. But now? Now you were the same age as many of the players, a young woman. Sure, the older players who’d known you for years, the ones who had watched you grow up, still joked around with you and treated you like family. But the younger players, the ones who were closer to your age than your father’s, definitely saw you differently. You caught the lingering stares, the cocky grins shot in your direction when they did something impressive on the pitch, the nudges when you strolled by the weight room when you brought the coaches their lunches.

Not that a single one of them would ever do anything about it. They were young, but they weren’t stupid. You were the manager’s daughter; you were the very definition of off-limits.

Which was totally fine with you, by the way. You didn’t care much for the attention of the young footballers, no matter how fit or wealthy they were. Not when you only had eyes for one midfielder in particular.

Roy Kent. Roy freaking Kent. With those brown eyes and those little smirks and that growling voice, not to mention that gorgeous chest hair you thought about way to often to be healthy, you were positively, absolutely smitten. He was brilliant to watch on the pitch, and he was pretty clever and funny when he cared to be. While his reputation centered around his scowls and brooding air, you often found yourself falling into step with him in the halls, offering teasing remarks back and forth and eliciting light chuckles from the mouth you thought about all year long back at school.

Ever since you started university, your dad had joked about not dating footballers. And normally, you were a good kid and listened to your parents. But the sound of Roy Kent’s laughter and the sight of his bare chest in the changing room always had you wanting to ignore your dad’s advice.

Because ever since he arrived at Chelsea, summers were for Roy Kent.

This summer was no different.

After a full week of Roy catching you staring at him on the pitch and making jokes that you laughed a smidge too hard at, you discovered him on the pitch long after practice had ended for the day and most players had begun to go home. Well, maybe ‘discovered’ was the wrong word. That made it sound like a coincidence, like you hadn’t quietly slipped away from your father’s office and followed the midfielder out of the building. Like you hadn’t perched yourself in the stands, not in an obvious spot, but definitely not hiding either as you watched him absently dribble around the grass while the sun began to set. Like you hadn’t been doing this for three days in a row now.

After maybe five minutes of watching him, he finally turned his head in your direction. “Oi!” he called out. “You just going to sit there and watch?” Even from a distance you could see the smile on his face, the one he usually saved for you.

You shrugged and stood, smoothing down the dress you may or may not have chosen while thinking about what Roy would think of it. It took every ounce of self-control not to skip down the stands, across the grass, and fling yourself into his arms, the way you wished you could after Chelsea victories. Instead, you strolled casually towards him, hands innocently behind your back, until you were gazing up at those pretty brown eyes, the ones that always seemed to sparkle when he looked at you.

“Enjoy the show?” Roy razzed, quirking one of those thick eyebrows at you.

“I always enjoy watching football,” you countered. You bent down to pick up the ball and began rolling it between your hands. “Especially when I get to watch talented people play.”

Behind the teasing look on his face, you could see in his eyes that he was pleased by your indirect compliment. “You think I’m talented then?” he hummed, doing his best to maintain his indifferent manner.

You wrinkled your nose at him and tossed the ball at his chest, which he caught with a soft grunt. “Who said I was talking about you, Kent? I was just stating the fact that I like watching football.”

His face lit up at your banter, eyebrows raised and mouth agape. You never saw him make that face at work except when you joked around with each other; you wondered if he ever made that face away from the pitch, if he ever made that face at anyone else, at any other girls. “Fuck me then,” Roy laughed, holding the ball close to his chest. He dropped it to the ground with a thud and nudged it towards you with his foot. “Come on, then. Let me prove myself.”

“Me, who hasn’t played football since I was eight, versus you, a Premier League star.” You rolled your eyes and bumped the ball back to him. “Yeah, sounds real fair to me, Kent.”

This time, the surprise he wore was genuine. “You haven’t played since you were eight?” He shook his head at you. “Your dad coaches fucking Chelsea. How the fuck did you manage to not play?”

“I prefer spectating and being a fan,” you stated simply. You wrinkled your nose. “Plus, I wasn’t very good,” you admitted. “I think Dad found it all a little embarrassing. He didn’t make much of a fuss when I quit.”

Roy shook his head and took a step back, dragging the ball with him. “Well, your dad’s not here now,” he pointed out, something close to flirtation in his voice. “And I’ll try to go easy on you, princess.”

Your heart fluttered at the teasing nickname. A few of the players called you that, always playful and joking, but when Roy said it, it made you wonder how other pet names would sound coming out of that beautiful mouth of his. “Fine,” you conceded with a huff, as though you weren’t thrilled at the opportunity to be close to Roy. “But go easy on me.”

Playing football in flats and a dress was not the easiest thing in the world, you discovered. Especially not when your opponent was Chelsea’s skilled and beautiful superstar. Still, you had to admit to yourself that it was fun. It was obvious that Roy did his best to go easy on you, but it wasn’t natural for the midfielder to give anything less than one hundred percent, so even his “easy” was a challenge. But he chuckled as you ran around each other, and a couple times he even laid a hand on your waist; you wondered if he knew the effect it had on you because each time he did, you froze and he was able to steal the ball with ease.

Eventually, you managed to break away from him with the ball at your feet and happiness in your lungs. You really thought you had a chance at scoring a goal when that firm hand landed on your hips. As you tried to wriggle free, your feet tangled with his, and the two of you fell to the ground, a jumble of laughter and bodies and a football. You managed to roll onto your back, grinning at Roy as he sat up and gazed down at you.

“You do suck,” he announced with a smirk. “Better study hard at uni, princess, because even with your daddy in charge, you are never getting signed to Chelsea.”

“I think I’ll live,” you huffed back as he laid beside you. You felt keenly aware of his body next to yours, of his breathing, of how close his hand was to your own. You wondered if he could feel your heart pounding through the ground; part of you worried it would cause the earth to quake, it was beating so hard.

Roy’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Glad to be home for the summer?” he hummed, his casual tone a sharp contrast to your nerves.

You cleared your throat. “I am. It’s always nice to be back with my family. And not worry about schoolwork. Plus, I love being here.” You gestured broadly around the pitch.

“Hmm.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Roy squinting at the oranging sky. “Any big summer plans?” His voice was heavy with interest, something rare for Roy Kent. He always seemed so aloof.

“Working here,” you said with a huff. “Same as every summer.” After a moment, you realized he was waiting for you to continue talking. “What about you? Training, training, and more training?” you teased.

He sighed, a low growling sound that had the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. “’ve got a fucking photoshoot tomorrow,” he grumbled. “For fucking Nike. Some international ad campaign or some shit, I don’t fucking know.”

You were instantly reminded that Roy Kent was a professional footballer, a celebrity, a legend in the making, who already had a track record for bedding models and actresses. He was on magazine covers and advertisements. And you were… you. He wasn’t like the boys in your uni classes or the fellas in your neighborhood, earnest young men who nervously asked girls out at pubs and prayed for a ‘yes’. He was a star.

In an attempt to ease your sudden angst, you let out a light chuckle. “Nike photoshoot, huh? Wow, Kent. You’re so cool.” You turned your face towards him and stuck your tongue out playfully. “It makes me hate you so much.”

Roy shifted his head so he was looking at you. “Me? Cool?” He rolled his eyes. “I never feel fucking cool. Especially not around you.” He gazed back up at the sky. “Always feel like a clumsy little kid around you.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. His voice was so sincere, not an ounce of the joking and teasing usually aimed at in your direction. And you swore his cheeks were tinted pink- and you didn’t think it was from all the running around. Although your mind was racing to a million different places at once, the only thing you could manage to murmur was, “Well, I think you’re pretty fucking cool, Kent.”

He faced you again, squinting at the setting sun that was hitting him just right. “Thanks.” After a moment, you felt his finger brush tentatively against your knuckles. “D’you think I could call you sometime? While you’re home for the summer?” He shrugged, clearly trying to appear more casual than he felt. “We could… hang out or something.”

If you thought your heart was racing before, it was nothing compared to now. You searched his eyes, looking for some sign that he was goofing around, just fucking with you, but all you could find was sunshine and anticipation. Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you nodded, turning your palm upwards so Roy could rest his hand on yours, intertwining your fingers.

“Yeah, Kent,” you finally whispered as a smile crept across your face. “You could call me sometime.”

[johntorrington]

the current collection not counting ebooks. i’m unwell

[tootravelerwonderland]

Enjoy the baptism of sea breeze

[adamwatchesmovies]

Red Dragon (2002)

Red Dragon can feel familiar at times: the novel by Thomas Harris was also adapted in 1986, much of what we see here we also saw in Silence of the Lambs and this is a prequel so you kind of know where things are going with most of the characters. That said, Hannibal Lecter as portrayed by Anthony Hopkins is such a compelling monster that even a little bit of him goes a long way. If you want more, you get it. Even if you shudder at the thought of ghoulish serial killers, this is an engaging psychological thriller.

After capturing Hannibal Lecter (Hopkins) and nearly losing his life in the process, agent Will Graham (Edward Norton) retires from the FBI. Years later, he’s brought back as a consultant when a serial killer nicknamed the “Tooth Fairy” attacks a second family during a full moon. After hitting a wall and with the next full moon approaching, Graham reluctantly admits he cannot complete the killer's psychological profile without Lecter's help.

We’ve seen several aspects of this scenario in The Silence of the Lambs. Lecter behind bars, an FBI agent asking for his help, a serial killer whose pattern needs to be deciphered, etc. Though there is a segment at the beginning of the film that shows what Lecter was like before he was caught, it’s not like in Hannibal where he’s out in the world for a good chunk of the film; the scenes are there to establish the connection between Graham and Lecter. That relationship is where this picture differs the most from Silence, as there’s a horror equivalent of a love triangle going on. Lecter is playing a strange game with Graham. He wants to keep him nearby by feeding him information about the Tooth Fairy but he also wants him dead. Lecter hopes the Tooth Fairy can get revenge on Graham on his behalf.

On the agent’s side, he and Lecter were friends, or at least respected each other professionally before they tried to kill each other. One of the reasons why Graham was pulled out of retirement is his unique ability to put himself in the mind space of someone as deranged the Tooth Fairy. Diving back into that world puts him in danger, in more ways than one. You can imagine a scenario in which his psyche slips and he winds up in the asylum too.

Though he doesn't know it, the man Graham pursues is Francis Dolarhyde (Ralph Fiennes). We meet him early on and see that he is infatuated with Lecter. Once he realizes Graham is on his trail, you can bet a part of him hopes he can impress his idol by adding him to his list of victims. He has many newspaper clippings of Lecter in the heavy scrapbook he hides in the attic and that means he's intimately familiar with the man who's on his tail.

That triangle is further complicated by the time we spend with Dolarhyde. He’s a bit… sad in a way, though we only think of him as a man whose redemption is possible because we exclusively see the aftermath of his murders – chillingly effective snippets thanks to the editing by Mark Helfrich and the cinematography by Dante Spinotti. Dolarhyde’s motivation may be even more off-the-wall than Buffalo Bill’s but he's made more human thanks to a romantic subplot with a coworker (Emily Watson). She adds an extra element of danger and intrigue to the story. Neither Lecter nor Graham knows she's in the middle of this storm. Only Dolarhyde has any idea of what she may have gotten herself into and he has feelings for her but he's also the one she should be afraid of.

The big unknown in this thriller is how Graham will track the serial killer down. What’s going to be the “Aha!” moment? In a way, then, we’re both ahead of the characters and following behind them. That’s sometimes the case with these types of films, particularly when the serial killer has a bizarre modus operandi but the characters make Red Dragon stand out. The familiar faces (Anthony Heald returns as the Dr, Frederick Chilton), the new main players and the side characters too. Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Freddy Lounds, a reporter for a trashy newspaper has a memorable role.

I’d have to sit down and watch Manhunter again to decide whether this is the better adaptation or not. Maybe it doesn’t matter and there’s room for both on your shelf. While Red Dragon is not on the same level as The Silence of the Lambs (and I haven't seen Hannibal recently enough to decide where that one fits in the series) it is a satisfying way to get more of what you liked before. (October 9, 2024)

[xx-neuro-xx]

OKAY I SAW THIS

And

I wanted to give an opinion

Not on the art or nothing

The art is good

So don't

Like

Annoy me

I'm just saying the art is good and it reminded me

The girl from just a friend

I think her name might be Dorothy

You might be like

"but neuro no, it's blah blah blah"

BUT

In the part where he goes to her dormitory

He goes, "yo can you tell me where is door three"

LISTEN TO THAT SPECIFIC LINE AND TELL ME THAT HE IS NOT MAKING IT SOUND LIKE DOROTHY ON PURPOSE

The girl from just a friend is named Dorothy.

that gal from just a friend (tally hall version)

she has a little purple bowtie bcuz shes a tally fan !! (which is how she met rob and stuffs)

[jesslovesboats]

Hello friends, I am back with more reading recommendations for your agonies! Next up we have the long awaited and much requested Sad Boat Fiction list. As with all of my lists, this is NOT exhaustive and there WILL be great books left off, and also you may or may not like these books! I only rec things that I've personally enjoyed or that come highly recommended by trusted friends, but taste in books is incredibly subjective, especially with fiction. If I missed your favorite, please add it in the comments or drop it in my DMs!

Now that I'm feeling more settled in my new job, I will hopefully have a lot more time to make book lists and do more virtual Readers' Advisory. I have lists in the works for women in polar exploration and companion reads for the HBO War series, but if there's something else you would love to see, please send me a message!

Classics of the Genre

At the Mountains of Madness by H.P. Lovecraft

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Media Tie-Ins

Who Goes There? (Filmed as The Thing) by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The North Water by Ian McGuire

Cold Skin by Alfred Sánchez Piñol

The Terror by Dan Simmons

Graphic Novels

Whiteout by Greg Rucka

How to Survive in the North by Luke Healy

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Science Fiction

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin

Antarctica by Kim Stanley Robinson

Romance

Under a Pole Star by Stef Penney

The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley

My Last Continent by Midge Raymond

Inspired by the Terra Nova Expedition

The Worst Journey in the World- The Graphic Novel Volume 1: Making Our Easting Down adapted by Sarah Airriess from the book by Apsley Cherry-Garrard*

The Birthday Boys by Beryl Bainbridge

Terra Nova: A Play by Ted Tally

Antarctic Navigation by Elizabeth Arthur

*this is only fiction in the broadest possible sense of the term, but there is a shiny new American version of this book coming out with a gorgeous new cover and you should pre-order it immediately

Inspired by the Franklin Expedition

The Rifles by William T. Vollmann

Minds of Winter by Ed O'Loughlin

Solomon Gursky Was Here by Mordecai Richler

On the Proper Use of Stars by Dominique Fortier

Literary Fiction

The Voyage of the Narwhal by Andrea Barrett

Migrations by Charlotte McConaghy

We, The Drowned by Carsten Jensen

Inspired by the Classics

The Route of Ice and Salt by José Luis Zárate

Ahab's Wife by Sena Jeter Naslund

Modern Day Antarctica

How the Penguins Saved Veronica by Hazel Prior

South Pole Station by Ashley Shelby

Where'd You Go, Bernadette by Maria Semple

Polar and Nautical Horror

Where the Dead Wait by Ally Wilkes

Dark Matter by Michelle Paver

Cold Earth by Sarah Moss

The Deep by Nick Cutter

All the White Spaces by Ally Wilkes

Dark Water by Elizabeth Lowry

The Deep by Alma Katsu

Happy reading!

[thebestestwinner]

Top two vote-getters will move on to the next round. See pinned post for all groups!

[schlorb]

tally hall's turn the lights off should be the official theme song of Tumblr and it should play on loop at max volume for the entire time you have the app or website open.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[adolin]

re prev post... I need more people who followed me for Ted Lasso to understand how wildly fucking insane rl football actually gets.

I'm keeping a tally of unhinged moments I want to shove into my fic for this fandom, such as "Goalkeeper gets sent off and a random player has to stand in goal now" or "Goal disallowed because buttocks were offside; ass too big!" or "Crazy penalty shoutout ends with 44 total penalties taken" or "League champions celebrate in the dark after rivals turn off stadium lights after final whistle"

And maybe some people will think I'm making this all and I just have a great imagination, but actually? This ALL happened in club football just this week

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Fringe Benefits

Part of my Birthday Bash!

Request: “you’re spending more time at my desk than at your own” for Roy

Roy Kent x Reader 0.7k words Warnings: Language

“Well, well, well, what have we here?”

You turned around, smiling at Roy as he strolled into his office. He raised his thick eyebrows at you, nodding a greeting. You wondered if he could see the way your eyes flickered down his figure, checking him out, the way you could never resist doing when you saw him.

You’d been working at A.F.C. Richmond for about three months now, having been hired by Keeley Jones to manage their PR. It was a fun job and, if you were being honest, the sight of Roy Kent in those track pants was definitely a perk.

“Hey,” you hummed. “I was just leaving you a note.” You nodded at the sticky note you’d begun to write on before the sound of his growling voice interrupted you. “Got those concert tickets for you and Pheebs for Friday. But make sure you post on your Instagram, alright?” You gave his arm a playful smack. “Or I’m never doing you a favor ever again.”

A smile broke out across that handsome face. “Fuck, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” He paused, gazing at you thoughtfully. “This is what, the third time today you’ve been down here?” He narrowed his playful eyes at you. “I think people are starting to notice that you spend more time at my desk than you do at your own. What, you using me to get your fucking steps in?”

You rolled your eyes. Okay, maybe your crush on Roy Kent was obvious to everyone at Nelson Road. Keeley teased you about it nonstop. The players, especially Jamie Tartt, often gave you sly, knowing smiles when they saw you make your familiar way to Roy’s office. Even little Phoebe had asked you if you were her Uncle Roy’s girlfriend when she met you at a Greyhounds match- a question she repeated every time you saw her, actually.

“Come on Kent, you know I just come visit you for the snacks.” To punctuate your point, you opened one of his desk drawers and pulled out a sweet. With a wink, you popped the treat into your mouth.

Now Roy rolled his eyes at you as he approached you, standing a smidge too close, the way he’d been doing almost since the day you started working at Nelson Road. “And here I thought you came all the way down here for the pleasure of my company.”

Another sweet found its way into your mouth. “Ah, that’s just a fridge benefit, Coach.”

“Fringe benefit, eh?” Roy snorted, his cheeks tinging pink as he glanced down at the floor. Fuck, he looked adorable like this. How could a man look bashful and confident at once? And how could he look so damn good at the same time? “So, you’re basically using me to manage your sweets cravings, then?”

“Afraid so, Kent.”

He nodded as he glanced at you through his lashes. “Then maybe you let me buy you some kind of fruity drink after work today. For your cravings.” He smirked. “And the fridge benefit of my company.”

Could he see the way the color rushed to your cheeks? “O-oh. Yeah. That would be nice.” You took a step back towards the door, needing to run back to your office and call Keeley to squeal- and maybe ask her to come drop off a change of clothes. “I’ll see you after work then.” As you turned, hoping you didn’t sound as nervous as you suddenly felt, Roy cleared his throat.

“Oi.” You glanced over your shoulder, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of his cocky grin. “And see if you can get one more ticket for that concert. You don’t have plans Friday, do you?”

Oh hell. If your smile got any bigger, your cheeks would probably crack. “I’m free,” you managed. “And I’d love to go to the concert with you guys.”

Roy nodded, looking nothing short of pleased. “Right. I should let you go back to your work, then.” His expression became teasing again. “I’m sure you’ll be back down here in an hour or so. I’ll have some snacks waiting for you.”

A giggle tumbled out of your mouth as you shook your head at Roy. “I’m sure you will.” With a little wave, you strolled away, already coming up with another excuse to come back downstairs to visit Roy Kent.