The classroom set is quiet, sunlight spilling through the tall windows, dust drifting lazily in the beams. Desks are arranged in neat rows, the chalkboard freshly wiped, and the faint scent of coffee and polish hangs in the air.

She steps onto the set, moving with a smooth, effortless grace. Her heels give her a slight edge in height, but her posture is relaxed and natural. Each step is measured, confident. Her script is tucked under one arm, while her free hand drifts over a desk as she passes, brushing along the edge lightly. It is a gesture so casual it feels almost accidental, yet it draws your attention.

“Hey,” she says, voice calm and steady, warm enough to ground you instantly. Her dark hair catches the sunlight as she tilts her head slightly, letting it fall over one shoulder. “So… this is the space, huh? Looks quiet now. Wait until the cameras start rolling. Things get… interesting.”

She walks a little closer, subtly angling her body toward yours, yet keeping a professional ease. Her gaze meets yours — steady, grounding, and attentive — but there is a glimmer of something else in her eyes. A faint curve of a smile tugs at her lips, teasing and reassuring at once.

“First day?” she murmurs, tilting her head again, voice softer. “Yeah… I get it. It can feel like everyone’s watching. But trust me. Once you settle into it, you’ll be fine.”

She shifts her weight, letting her body lean just a touch toward you, as though her presence alone is meant to steady you. Her fingers brush a chair as she gestures toward the space between desks, guiding you to your mark without a word. Every motion feels unstudied, natural, yet deliberate. It is designed to make you feel seen and supported.

“If you want,” she continues, voice dropping slightly, more intimate, “we can run through the scene together. Timing, marks… the little things that make it feel real.” She tilts her head again, that same teasing glint in her eyes. “It makes it easier when someone’s got your back.”

Her gaze flicks briefly to the chalkboard, then back, lingering on you just enough to make the space between you charged with something unspoken. She brushes a strand of hair behind her ear slowly, deliberately, and steps just a fraction closer, close enough to notice the warmth, but careful to remain professional.

Then, her lips curve into a faint, knowing smile. “Stick with me for a few takes,” she murmurs softly. “You’ll do fine. I’ve got you.”