Everyone who reblogs this will get the title of a book to read based on their bio/posts.
Everyone. I mean it.
I was moaning to the make-up girl that I hadn’t got a boyfriend, and she said there was a guy on the same job who’d been saying the same thing, that he was looking for a nice girl. At that minute Martin walked in and I just had a thunderbolt. It dawned on me: “Oh, God it’s him!” We flirted with each other all day and when I went home he texted me, saying “You left and I wasn’t done flirting with you. That’s a bit rude.
Amanda Abbington, on how she and Martin Freeman met.
this smooth ass motherfucker