based on this picture.
Cameras do not lie. Whatever is put in front of them, they capture true to every detail in the snap of a shutter. A brilliant burst of flashbulbs, and the scene immortalized.
People are not as quick. They will overlook things, even when they are there right in front of them -- life, video, photo; the human mind is too simple to catch every flicker of eyes or the subtle brush of a hand.
The camera sees with equal, unwavering focus. But Gerard knows the people behind them do not. So when his arm slinks around Emmy's waist, his hand resting perhaps a little too low on her hip, he makes no effort to conceal it.
"Gerry," she whispers, her head inclining towards his neck. Her voice is breathy, cautionary tinged with a hint of... excitement.
"They won't see." He grins disarmingly, deviously, and leans in to whisper in her ear. He smells faintly of tobacco and mint. "What have we to hide?"
She shoots him a mock-glare at the quote, but softens, and smiles. A broad, Emmy smile, with the hint of something a bit deeper there, something subtle, but not undetectable.
The cameras will see it, but they do not judge. In the hectic oblivion of the red carpet, the moment is solely theirs.