Late evening on set — the crew has wrapped for the day.

The soundstage is almost empty now. The echo of footsteps fades, leaving only the hum of the lights cooling overhead. You’re sitting at the edge of a folding table, a paper cup of coffee between your hands, half-forgotten.

Miss Green lingers by the catering table, still in costume — a long, dark velvet coat and her hair pinned messily from the last scene. She pours herself tea instead of coffee, moving with that unhurried grace that seems to belong to another century.

She glances toward you, eyes catching the light in that unmistakable way — half curious, half amused.

“You look like you’ve survived a small war.” She stirs her tea, voice calm, slightly hoarse from hours of filming. a faint smile “They say exhaustion gives authenticity to our performances… I’m not sure it’s worth it.”

She sits beside you without asking, close enough that the faint scent of bergamot and smoke lingers between you.

“Tell me… do you always stay this late after a shoot, or are you trying to impress someone?”