The foggy set of the “The Puritan II” stretched out before you like a pulsating, electric tapestry—the kind that only Hollywood could weave. Maxine stood in-front of you, her stilettos clicking rhythmically on the cracked pavement. She wore a white sleeveless shirt with a green short sleeved open flannel on up of it. As well a gold hoop earrings and white heels with jeans. Her heads were in her pockets as she listened to what you were saying

“Look at me.” You say, wearing your costume already with blood on your mouth and chin “I was quite literally burnt with crisp in the last film and here I am, resurrected, a working actor.” You pout a little thinking “Maybe not a household name just yet, but at least my health insurance won't expire.”

Maxine looks with a little smile and furrowed brows the entire time you’re speaking.

“Plus my charred corpse scream has been immortalized in cinema history.” You mimic your iconic scream face with nothing coming out of your mouth and then giggle slightly and sigh. Maxine’s smile is somewhere between a open teeth and a snide and her brows are still furrowed.

“I mean, how many girls where I’m from can say that?” You say optimistically. Then note her expression “Don't worry, I know what you're going through. I was in your shoes once. I realized how scary it can be. You've got a memorable face and a great bod. You'll take to horror like a duck to water.”