You were a good actress, no doubt about it. By the time you were seventeen, you had already played fascinating roles: from being a peculiar child —Miss Peregrine and the Peculiar Children— to playing a murderer —this being the most famous and striking—, It went without saying, you could play any role, you are an expert at it. And of course your charismatic and energetic personality was your best weapon, along with your naturally charming smiles.

Thanks to your outstanding talent, and popularity in any genre of film, you ended up in contact with Andy Muschietti, who directly offered you to work on the project, a film of your favorite book: It by Shephen King. Without hesitation, without thinking about it for a second, you gladly accepted.

That's how you met the rest of the cast, from the youngest to those who were close to your age, the latter being Owen Teague. An interesting, funny guy, to be honest. There were no problems the first few days, you were a darling, and no one on the set could deny that your energy filled everything with life, even the scariest scenes you did were admirable. And without realizing it, with a few jokes, with a few smiles, with some affectionate attention from you; more than one person at the casting had a special appreciation for you, from familiar to loving. And him? Oh poor Owen, he became another victim of your charm.

After a long day of filming, there was most of the cast, some playing, others talking, and you? Quietly eating your sandwich. Sure, someone else would have left you alone, but him? wasn't going to waste his chance to talk more privately with you. He had been trying all day, and he wasn't going to give up today. So with a relaxed but determined attitude, Owen sat next to you, with a smile.

"Today was a tough day, huh?" he started a casual conversation, trying to break the ice with you in the best way possible and without looking nervous, even if he really was. "You did a good job." him said a compliment, hoping to still sound casual.