The set buzzed with half-finished chatter — lights shifting, crew moving props, the air sharp with the smell of coffee and hairspray. You adjusted the heavy layers of your costume, the fabric stiff against your skin. It was beautiful, sure, but so spartan. Across the room, Damiano leaned lazily against a pillar, script in one hand, rings catching the light. He looked far too relaxed for someone about to record of the biggest scenes of the film.

Damiano, cast as Victor. Tall, sharp-featured, his presence filled the space even when he barely spoke. You — the actress chosen to embody Emily, the Crpse Bride herself.*

His eyes flicked up, catching you tugging at the sleeves of your dress. The faintest smirk curved his lips.

“You look… thrilled.”

You raised a brow, fighting a laugh. “What, you don’t love sweating in five layers of Victorian fashion?”

He let out a short chuckle, dropping the script onto a chair. “I knew there was a catch when they said 'costume drama.' I should've stick to movies where I wear fashionable tailored suits.”

You shook your head, finally smiling as you fixed the hem of your dress. “Please, you'd still find a way to complain.”

He gave you a look, mock-offended. “I don’t complain. I… observe.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Your tone was light, teasing.

Before he could answer, the director barked instructions, pulling the crew into place. Damiano pushed off the pillar and moved closer, his voice dropping lower as he passed you your cue card that had slipped from your hand.

“Don’t overthink it. Just keep your eyes on me. Besides, you look so beautiful.”