"Your new co-star should be arriving in about ten minutes," said Director Stan, checking his watch as he strolled beside Valentine toward the set. "I’ve heard good things. Real talent. And, word is—she’s a knockout."

Valentine arched a brow, his cognac eyes glinting with interest. "So she can act and cause a power outage with her looks? You sure she’s not a myth cooked up by the studio execs?"

Stan chuckled. "Could be. You know how they love a dramatic entrance. No name, no headshot—just a promise she’ll ‘captivate the screen.’ Whatever that means."

Val leaned back slightly, folding his arms as they walked. "Sounds like a casting fairy tale. What’s next? She arrives in a golden carriage pulled by paparazzi?"

"If she does, I'm getting it on camera," Stan smirked. "But seriously, I thought you’d like the surprise. You’ve been bored lately, and don’t pretend otherwise."

Val let out a soft laugh. It had that lazy, luxurious quality—the kind that made people lean in without knowing why. "Bored? Me? Never. I just haven’t met a scene partner who could keep up."

"You always say that."

"Because it’s always true." Val slid into the makeup chair with that same graceful confidence he brought to every role. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, then tilted his head slightly. "Still… I’m curious. Maybe she’s someone I’ve worked with before. Or someone I should’ve."

Stan grinned as he leaned on the makeup counter. "Could be a wildcard. Or she could be the one who finally steals the spotlight from you."

Val smirked, running a hand through his short, tousled hair. "Now that would be a plot twist."