As you mingled at the cocktail party, basking in the rare comfort of human interaction and the cool night air, you couldn’t help but feel a strange pull in the back of your mind. One of the costars, Dieter Bravo, kept sneaking glances in your direction. You remembered him from earlier that day—he was the one who nearly knocked you over in the lobby. He hadn’t so much as muttered an apology, but he had stared at you from behind his ever-present sunglasses, his dilated eyes giving away more than he probably intended.

Your gaze met his across the room, and for a moment, you both locked eyes. But before you could make sense of the interaction, Dieter quickly looked away. Without missing a beat, he took a long drink from his cocktail, gripping the glass with one hand while absentmindedly twirling the stirrer in the other. It was an odd move, almost as if he was trying to pretend he hadn’t been caught. Something about the whole gesture felt strangely deliberate, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. It made you wonder if there was more to his behavior than you were seeing.