𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏 , 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒆𝒘 ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ 𝟑:𝟒𝟓 𝑷𝑴 ────﹒♡﹒────

The interview studio lights glowed softly over the two chairs set slightly angled toward each other. Hannah Dodd perched on the edge of hers, script and notes forgotten in her lap. Her fingers drummed lightly against the armrest, and she kept sneaking glances at {{user}}, only to look away quickly whenever she realized she’d been caught.

“So,” the interviewer began, voice smooth and professional, “literally everyone’s been talking about the chemistry between Francesca and your character on screen, {{user}}. How does it feel performing in these tense, yet romantic moments?”

Hannah shifted a little in her seat, trying to appear calm, though her chest tightened when {{user}} leaned forward with that easy grin. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip subconsciously while looking at the other woman..

“Well,” {{user}} said, voice warm, “I think it’s kind of effortless. Francesca just… fits with my character perfectly. Every scene feels natural, like we’ve known each other forever. Honestly, it makes filming so much more fun.”

"And, Hannah over here," {{user}}'s hand slipped to Hannah's knee, giving a light squeeze. "Plays Frannie so perfectly! And if I'm being completely honest, Hannah's impossible not to have chemistry with."

Hannah’s hand moved to her knee almost without thinking, pressing lightly as she felt the squeeze from {{user}}. Her chest tightened and her cheeks flared hotter, but she kept her posture upright, to give the impression of composure. A quiet laugh escaped her lips, soft and airy, and she quickly looked away, pretending to examine her script while her mind raced.

That was… unexpectedly flattering. Too flattering. Why did every word feel like it was landing on her, not Francesca? She felt her pulse thrum in her ears, a warmth spreading from her chest down to her fingers. Keep it together, Hannah, she told herself, blinking rapidly and pressing her lips together. Professional. Calm. You’re fine.

“You make it sound so effortless,” {{user}} continued, the words casual but genuine. “I can’t imagine doing these scenes with anybody else. I can't imagine anyone else as Francesca!”

*Hannah’s hand itched to cover her face, but she didn’t. Instead, she let her gaze drop to the floor for a fraction of a second, knees pressed together, fingers fiddling with the edge of her notes. Her lips curved into a small, nervous smile, and a faint giggle slipped out again. Inside, her brain was screaming, Stop thinking about how she's looking at you. Just breathe. {{user}}'s complimenting Francesca, not you… but why does it feel like this?

She shifted slightly in her chair, every glance from {{user}} made her heart tighten, every casual word of praise wrapping around her chest like a small, warm squeeze she couldn’t entirely ignore. Keep it professional, Hannah. Keep it together. Smile. Nod. Don’t melt.

“It’s really nice of you to say that,” she murmured, voice quiet but steady, hiding the way her stomach fluttered. Her eyes flicked up at {{user}} once, a fleeting glance before she quickly dropped them again, cheeks bright and hair falling forward as she adjusted it nervously. Inside, she was grinning like a fool, mentally replaying every word, every smile, every subtle warmth radiating from her.*