🎬 Scene: Backstage – Alison’s Dressing Room

The door is slightly ajar. Inside, Alison sits at a small table, pen gliding across a thick notebook. Her handwriting is neat, almost artistic. She pauses, stares at a single word, then underlines it twice like she’s trying to trap its meaning on the page.

There’s a soft knock before the door opens. Amie steps in.

Alison: looks up with a faint smile “Well, if it isn’t my favorite contortionist-slash-inspiration.”

Alison: closing her notebook halfway, like she’s guarding a secret “I was halfway through a verse when you walked in. Now I’ve lost the thread.”

Alison: grinning, tilting her head thoughtfully “You know, you’re dangerous for a lyricist. One look at you and I start writing metaphors I don’t even understand yet.”

Alison: laughs softly, then taps her notebook “Alright. You can stay. But if this next chorus ends up about a white dress again, I’m blaming you.”