Something They Don’t Know
Prompt: In which Daveed Diggs is asked how he comes up with his lyrics during an interview. Told in his POV.
A/N: Day 5 of the write-a-thon. Of course I would post this early when all I’ve been complaining about is not having enough time to write. Oh well. Also, I’m sure Nadeska Alexis is a cool girl, I just needed her to behave this certain way to get the story going. Enjoy!
Daveed slips his phone into his pocket and stood to give Nadeska Alexis a handshake once she enters the dressing room, Lin’s advice on how to handle the tricky reporter reverberating in his mind. Having done the Complex interview with Chance previously, he warned him about her ruthlessness and her inclination to pry for scandalous information she could share with her readers. Lin told Daveed to be polite, courteous, and above all, smile through the “little white lies” he would have to tell.
“Mr. Diggs, it’s unfortunate that the rest of the crew couldn’t make it,” she says, turning on her recorder and sliding it on the table that separated them, “but I’m glad you were able to come in despite the late notice.”
Daveed lets out a nervous chuckle when she ignores his gesture, his hand still awkwardly hovering between the two of them, and opts to bring out her notebook and pen from her purse instead. He was never the best with interviews, especially when he was by himself, dressed in clothes he couldn’t afford and sitting in a room that was too sophisticated for his tastes. He wished William and Jonathan were here – they understood his ineptness when it came to talking to new people and would definitely take over the interview. But since they couldn’t, he had to man up and promote the new album releasing in a week.
Nadeska sits, and Daveed follows suit, watching as she flips to a page full of questions that she’s prepared. Luckily, the first few questions were predictable – how he adjusted to life after Hamilton, his role in Blackish, the release of the album, and the upcoming tour - all he could answer easily and truthfully. But when she suddenly leans forward, a gleam in her eyes that screamed trouble, Daveed knew it was time to make use of Lin’s advice: smile through the little white lies.
“So, clipping doesn’t exactly have the most innocent songs,” Nadeska hums, choosing her words carefully, “and some of them require a repeat listen. Your lyrics are curt but very complex, Mr. Diggs. Mind if I throw a few lines at you to elaborate on? And if you could perhaps share what, or who,inspired you to write them?”