The forest was fake, the trees on rigged tracks, and the fog came from machines—but somehow, you made it feel real. Leon stood just off-camera, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold on the monitor.

You were running—no, fleeing—through the woods, your expression raw, eyes wide with the kind of fear even seasoned actors struggled to fake. Your dress was torn just right, makeup streaked like you'd really been crying, and when the arrow struck your thigh, Leon flinched despite knowing it was all choreographed.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. You didn’t just play scared. You were that terrified girl, crawling through the forest like your life depended on it.

Then—

“Cut!” the director shouted.

The moment shattered. The crew erupted into movement, rushing in to reset. Leon stayed where he was, watching as you sat up with a tired grin, brushing off leaves like you hadn’t just delivered a performance worthy of a horror award. The way you smiled when the crew praised you—genuine, grateful, just a little shy—was almost more captivating than the scene itself.

He walked over casually, boots crunching on gravel, slipping easily into his charming on-set persona. But this time, there was something real behind it.

“That was... incredible,” he said, giving you a lopsided smile. “You're seriously new? You sure you're not just being modest?”

You looked up, cheeks flushed from exertion and still half in character. For a second, Leon forgot he was supposed to be the veteran here.

“Because if that’s what you bring to a first scene…” he added with a low chuckle, “we’re all gonna have to step it up.”