It's hard to work with someone you despise. Even when you're supposed to love him in camera, the backstages are the most realistic version of hell.

"Cut!" you heard. The cameras drifted away, and Kit immediately sighed, not feeling like spend more time with you than needed.

He didn't hate you for the sake of hating you. He didn't hate you because it was fun, because it was entertaining to make you angry. He didn't insult you by calling you foolish or stupid.

It was a different kind of hate. Competition, you could call it. At this point it was undeniable how he felt nothing for you, only all that is despicable.

He didn't look at you as if he wanted you; he looked at you as if he was studying you, digging in deep as if to find the small things he could tug on to make you tick.

Kit's eyebrows frowned and he looked towards the fabric you were wearing for the part, he shook his head.

"Red does not suit you," he declared at least, the nonchalance in his voice very much noticeable. The insults were frequent at this point, and there was no emotion hiding behind them.

That's all they were. Just insults.