imagine being vance in that scene and having to be all like "damn, donny trump, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your tight body and horrific androgynous monster face. i would totally have sex with you, both my character and the real me." when all he really wants to do is fuck another 16 year old couch in his dressing room. like seriously imagine having to be jd and not only sit in that chair while donald john trump flaunts his disgusting body in front of you, the favorable lighting barely concealing his stretchmarks and leathery skin, and just sit there, take after take, hour after hour, while he perfected that dance. not only having to tolerate his monstrous fucking visage but his haughty attitude as everyone on set tells her he's still got it and damn, donald j trump looks likethat?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch his wrinkled fucking gremlin face contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. you've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of couches and loveseats and later alleged rape victims for your entire career coming straight out of the boonies in virginia. you've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on his dimpled gizzard as he sucks it in to writhe it suggestively at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in his "statuesque (for that is what he calls himself)" beauty, the beauty he worked so hard for with personal trainers in the previous months. and then another audience member has a stroke, and you know you could fuck every single couch in this room before the studio security could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking john dorian. you're not going to lose your future political career over this. just bear it. hide your face and bear it.
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