That evening, the exhaustion bled into her performance during rehearsal. Today's focus was a pivotal scene where Hermia, lost and distraught in the woods, desperately searches for Lysander, believing he has abandoned her.
"Hermia, where art thou? Speak, if thou be'st rich with love!" Kris's voice, as Lysander, was laced with genuine anguish, his eyes scanning the metaphorical woods with a desperate intensity that mirrored Mia's weariness.
Mia, as Hermia, was supposed to be vulnerable, on the verge of tears. The fatigue from the technical briefing, the sheer mental drain of it all, combined with the emotional weight of the scene, pushed her into the character with an unexpected depth. "Oh, wearisome night! O, hateful sleep!" she cried, the words carrying a raw ache that felt disturbingly real. She collapsed onto a prop tree stump, her shoulders shaking, truly feeling the despair of being lost.
Kris, still in character, rushed to her, his movements swift and sure. He knelt beside her, his hand reaching out, almost instinctively, to steady her shoulder. "Be not afraid; you shall not harm'd be," he murmured, his voice softening, a stark contrast to his usual sharp tones. His eyes, as Lysander, were filled with a genuine protectiveness that blurred the lines between actor and character. For a fleeting moment, Mia felt truly comforted, safe within his theatrical embrace.
During a brief break, as Mia tried to shake off Hermia's despair and the lingering hum of microphone frequencies, Leo approached. He had a gentle concern on his face. "Hey, you look completely drained. That was an intense scene, but you also seem... exasperated." He offered her a bottle of water. "Everything alright?"
Mia took the water, grateful. "You have no idea," she sighed, rubbing her temples. "Kris made me sit through a two-hour technical briefing for his business competition. Catering, acoustics, delegate seating charts... it was like a black hole for my brain cells."
Leo chuckled softly. "Sounds like fun. Well, I just got a new batch of charcoal pencils. If you ever want to get away from the numbers and just sketch something purely for the sake of it, let me know. Or, if you want to swap notes on Demetrius and Hermia – I'm still trying to figure out how to make my pursuit less stalker-ish and more lovelorn." He leaned in slightly, his gaze earnest, offering a genuine, artistic escape.
Before Mia could respond, Kris's voice cut in, sharp and authoritative, from right beside her. He had moved with unnerving silence. "Mia," he said, ignoring Leo completely, his eyes fixed on Mia. "My office. Now. I need that briefing report. And don't forget the section on the contingency plan for power outages during the presentations. Critical details." His body language subtly shifted, placing himself slightly between Mia and Leo, a subtle claim.
Mia bristled, annoyed by his abrupt intrusion and his immediate shift back to "assistant mode." "I'm coming, Windsor," she retorted, giving Leo an apologetic shrug.
Leo, after a brief, awkward silence, offered a polite, somewhat strained smile. "I'll leave you two to it. See you in the next scene, Mia." He gave Kris a brief, knowing nod – an acknowledgement of the unspoken tension – before moving away.
In Kris's temporary office, as Mia relayed the details of the briefing, she surprisingly found herself outlining a potential flaw in their proposed A/V setup for the competition, a detail she'd picked up almost by accident. Kris listened, his expression unreadable, then scribbled a note. "Good catch, Princess," he conceded, almost begrudgingly. "Didn't think you'd manage to absorb anything beyond the coffee break schedule." It was a backhanded compliment, but a compliment nonetheless.
Ms. Dubois, ever the optimist, clapped her hands back in the drama hall. "Excellent, excellent! That raw emotion, Mia, is beautiful! And Kris, your protective instinct as Lysander, is just perfect! You two are finding your rhythm! Let's take a short break, everyone!"
Mia forced a tight smile, trying not to cringe. Born to infuriate each other, she thought, glancing at Kris. He merely offered Ms. Dubois a polite, charming smile, but his eyes, when they flickered to Mia, held a familiar, triumphant sparkle. He knew. He knew that the very thing that was making their stage performance compelling was the same tension that fueled their real-life rivalry. And for now, thanks to the bet, she was trapped in his orbit, both on and off stage. Day three done, and the lines between stage and reality were not just blurring, they were dissolving.