Studio 4 smelled like burnt coffee, hairspray, and desperation.
Usually, Aria loved this smell. It was the scent of work, of ambition, of creating something out of nothing. But today, stepping onto the soundstage at 6:00 AM after taking a helicopter ride away from a crime scene, it just smelled... fake.
She walked past the craft services table, ignoring the donuts. Her body was still humming with the adrenaline of the weekend. Her skin still felt hot from Damien's touch. It was disorienting to look at the plywood set of the "Imperial Palace" and remember that a few hours ago, she was looking at a Viper mark on her sister-in-law's wrist.
"Aria!"
Lucas popped out from behind a costume rack like a jack-in-the-box.
He looked... different. The arrogance that usually clung to him like cheap cologne was gone, replaced by a frantic, wide-eyed eagerness. He was holding a cardboard cup carrier with trembling hands.
