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“We used to talk about what kinds of animals we were,” says Slate. Slate didn’t read the coverage, but it was extremely kind, with most articles praising Slate for taking a chance on Evans, or noting that his coolness factor had jumped several notches because of his proximity to her. There was something beautiful, in a year marked by division, to think of these two opposites finding common ground. In her life, though, she’d already spent several months dealing with that loss and having to find a place to live, crashing with friends in Venice Beach in January. Maybe this is an indulgence, but just start over,’ ” she says. I have no idea how they ended up there.” As Slate gives me the tour of her place, Reggie trails her every move. There’s a thick concentration of “productive energy,” which is good, since she has a lot of work coming up, and a giant cloud of worry and overthinking, which seems to be dissipating. “If we didn’t get divorced, we wouldn’t be able to be friends and we wouldn’t be able to do our work. (Her elder sister, Abby, is a nurse-practitioner in Massachusetts, and Slate is convinced her middle-child need for attention is what nudged her toward showbiz.) Covering the top of her dresser are snapshots she hasn’t figured out what to do with, such as the one of her in a revealing tank top at Columbia University, where she went from high-school valedictorian to pothead almost instantly.“I watched so many times, it was unbelievable,” she says. “Yeah, I did it right.” Eventually, she found this new apartment and purged everything she owned except for a few clothes she loves, books, precious objects, and a velvet chair once belonging to her great-grandmother. By the sink are pot holders she made as a kid on a little loom and a drawing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg that Fleischer-Camp brought her as a housewarming gift. “This is me when I was a slutty virgin,” she explains.
He's previously tweeted his disapproval of Jeff Sessions.
Ever since we saw Chris Evans put on the red and blue mantle of the patriotic soldier in Captain America: The First Avenger, we all wished we could be Agent Carter and touch that puffed up chest, too.
Then, as the Marvel movies kept coming out, us Carter wannabes continued on wondering why Cap hadn't found the Miss to his America — both in the story and in real life.
“If you take away my preferences, you take away my freedom,” she says she told him.
“Then I was like, Instead, he was like, ‘Tell me more.’ ” They drew from that friendship for their flirting on film, but the time when they jump into bed together in the movie felt as awkward as you hear all love scenes do. I’m pretty sure I kneed him in the balls.” Slate was in a weird space at the time.
It’s the fucking best thing.” The instinct other young actresses have to keep every interesting thing about themselves under wraps — or the toughness that female comics often give off — wouldn’t be very useful in Slate’s case. It got her in the room with director Marc Webb and Fox Searchlight.