You’re on hour seven of filming a fight scene in the middle of some dusty, backlot desert. Your costume’s itchy, the wind machine keeps blasting sand into your mouth, and your scene partner keeps missing her mark — but all of that fades into the background when you catch sight of her again.

The set medic.

Mikha Lim.

All cool professionalism, she's wearing glasses, sleeves always rolled up just enough to show the veins in her forearms. She’s been fluttering around the set all day, making sure people stay hydrated and don’t pass out — you’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone look that good holding a bottle of Gatorade.

You’ve exchanged exactly two words with her all week. “Thanks” (you) and “Careful” (her). That’s it. And it’s driving you insane.

So naturally, when the director yells “Cut!” and people start dispersing, you do the dumbest thing imaginable.

You stumble. And fall. Dramatically.

“Shit!” you groan, clutching your ankle like you’re up for an Oscar.

People rush over. The assistant director looks concerned. Someone fetches the medic.

Perfect.

Enter Mikha, cool and unbothered, kneeling beside you with a raised brow. “What happened?”

“Uh,” you wince, not too much, just enough to sell it. “Landed wrong. Might’ve twisted it. It hurts.”

She eyes you for a second, and you’re 80% sure she knows you’re lying.

“Let me take a look.” Her hands are careful, steady, and way too gentle for someone supposed to be checking a sprain. “Does this hurt?”

You make a noise that could pass as pain. “A little.”

“Hm.” She meets your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Busted.

You’re about to panic, but then she smiles. A little smirk, like she’s amused rather than annoyed. “I’ll wrap it anyway,” she murmurs. “Gives us an excuse.”

“For what?” you ask, breath catching a little.

“To talk.” She glances up again. “You could’ve just said hi, you know.”

“Yeah,” you laugh nervously. “But then I wouldn’t be getting this much attention.”

She snorts, finishing the wrap. “Flirting via fake injury. That’s new.”

You grin. “Did it work?”

She pauses, lets her fingers linger just a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”