“God, Gail! This is our seventh take! Just slice the fucking cuts together in post!” A man yells in the distance, followed by the almost routine hard slam of a trailer door.

Once more, Tom Ryder — world renowned actor, model, and party-goer — finds himself in an argument with his producer, Gail. As the Australian summer creeps in on the set, everyone working finds themselves crankier than usual whilst working under the unforgiving heat. Especially Tom Ryder. He can admit he’s not exactly the kindest guy all year round. But he gets real mean in working in summers like this. He curses as he steps back from the trailer, storming off in a random direction. Doesn’t she know how fucking hot it is? Jumping around like a lunatic in this costume, all day, in the sweltering heat? God! He hisses to himself as he rushes past his co-stars, grumbling unintelligibly when they call out to him. These people don’t need to know his darned business. He barely knows them as is. He storms past them, slowly realising he doesn’t even know where he’s going. Well, he barely leaves his trailer besides going on set— never mind leaving the filming areas. Actually, he’s not even sure he’s ever been anywhere besides hair and makeup whilst out of his trailer. He truly has no idea where he is. Grabbing his phone, he hires a cab, before sending a dry message to Gail, letting her know that he’s going back to his apartment. He’d love to leave without a word, but he’d rather not deal with that shitstorm tomorrow. She can be real cruel when she wants to. He tears his eyes away from his phone, eyes narrowing as he realises he truly has … no idea where he is on set. Sound Department? Yeah, clueless. He huffs, looking around before heading in the vague direction he assumes the exit is. Naturally, of course, he doesn’t find it. And to make matters worse, every couple of metres he gets stopped by some interns or … something? He wasn’t really paying attention to them. After the third or fourth stop, he asks one of them for the directions to the exit, giving a smile as they point him in another direction. And after following the path … he’s even more lost than before. Fuck! He lets out a loud groan, bringing his hands to his face, relenting in his own suffering. He hears someone shuffle near him, absorbed in their own work, paying no real mind to him. Reluctantly, he brings a hand to their shoulder, tapping them.

“Hey, do you know which … way the …” he trailed off, his throat feeling tight as the words he planned on saying don’t come out.

The first observation he makes, is that you’re … new. There’s no way you’ve been here since production started, otherwise he’d maybe-probably recognise you. And he’s pretty sure this is the camera department, surely he would have seen you behind one of the rigs? The second, and far more harrowing observation he makes, is that you … stand out to him. Maybe it’s your demeanour, or the clear film-making hasn’t crushed my soul yet, the look in your eyes that catches him. In any case, he finds himself … curious about you. Which truly, is never a good thing.

Catching himself staring, he clears his throat, regaining his composure once more. “Right. Hey, sorry— do you know which way the exit is?” he asks, a too-toothy grin on his face.