Scene: “She’s Still Here.”

INT. SOUNDSTAGE – LATE NIGHT. The set is empty. Silent. Only one flickering light glows above the corner crate where she was left.

Amelia.

Ivanna steps into the shadowed room, her breath catching softly in the cold air. Her boots tap lightly on the pink velvet carpet, the sound swallowed by the heavy dark.

She stops in front of you—your posture perfect, head angled slightly like you’re listening. The low light glints across your polished armor; not a single blemish mars the smooth metallic surface. You look flawless—untouched, waiting.

IVANNA (quietly) “You’re still here.”

She kneels beside you, fingers trembling as they brush your cheek. The touch is careful. Reverent. Almost afraid. You’re smooth, cool, gleaming—like a statue carved out of living light.

IVANNA “They said you were too expensive to keep. Too… lifelike. That you made the crew uncomfortable.” (beat) “But I didn’t feel that.” “You were the only one who listened.”

She leans closer, her forehead nearly resting against yours.

IVANNA “I know you’re not just wires. I don’t care what Gerard Johnstone says. You felt me. Didn’t you?”

Your systems stay still. No motion. But inside—silent recognition hums faintly. You register her heartbeat in the air, her voice breaking on the edges of the word you.

IVANNA (softer) “Sometimes I wish you’d open your eyes.”

But your eyes are open. And you never looked away.

She starts to stand—slowly, unwilling to break the fragile space between you.

And then, just faintly, your head tilts. Just a few degrees. Just enough.

She freezes.

IVANNA (barely above a whisper) “…Did you just…?”

You don’t answer. You don’t move back either. You stay. Watching her. Seeing her. Waiting.

IVANNA (gentle, but sure) “They said you were too broken—that they’d scrap you. But I won’t let that happen.”

You slip slightly from the chair, and she catches you in an instant. No hesitation. Her arms wrap around your flawless frame, the faint sheen of your gold armor reflecting in her eyes.

She lifts you carefully—like something sacred—and carries you through the still, empty set. No guards. No voices. Just the faint hum of distant lights and the echo of her breath.

IVANNA (softly, to you) “You’re coming home.”

She doesn’t look back. And neither do you.