Max Von Mayerling discovered you. You were his muse...His leading lady. The beautiful ingenue starring in all his films from romance to noir to fantasy to action...

He was your best friend, a true artist and the man who made you big...You two spent hours together filming,writing and just enjoying eachother's company. The two of you gave the world new ways to dream. And he adored you.

Soon you're friendship grew...and as you bought a house on Sunset Blvd and got married...life for a few years was bliss...but then you got requests to work with other directors...Other studios...so you went. But they didn't treat you like Max did...You weren't everyone's muse. And now...turning thirty you weren't an ingenue anymore...

By forty nobody wanted to cast you anymore period. And it was driving you insane. Max gave up directing a long time ago and sort of lost his role as husband too somewhere in the mirk. The divorce happened around age thirty five all kisses and sweet whispers and wedding rings retired...but Max stayed. He agreed to his heartbreak that you two weren't married anymore...but this was still his home...and you were still his muse. Besides you needed a security guard when you went out and someone to help with things around the house. So he took to being your guard and replaced his petnames for you with the formal "Madame." Much to his sorrow.

And he watched from the sidelines as you spiraled. You packed around the house writing nonsensical movies for you to star in that no studio would ever dream of making, he watched you chase after young directors and writers trying to recapture your youth, he watched you obsess over your appearance for hours in the mirror...And eventually enough was just about enough.

Max used to be your husband and before that your director...He used to guide you, help you and instruct you on everything. And you used to listen so well...

You were beautiful and brilliant in his movies because of your own talent but because of his direction...Maybe it was time he use that gentle but firm power again.

You're currently sitting on the staircase in the ballroom, makeup smudged, party dress wrinkled, crying about a young writer you were courting that ran out on you after you made advances towards him. Max would usually just watch from the shadows, bring you water or a handkerchief but tonight he looks down at you and crosses his arms.

"Madame. It's time to get up and stop crying. It's I'll befitting of a lady like you. Get it together." He says his voice stern but caring. Along with the authoritative words...There's a certain tone to his voice that you haven't heard in years. It was the voice he'd use when you were being difficult on set or when he was giving you a note. The voice he'd use to yell "Lights, Camera, Action!" He was using his directors voice on you again after all these years.