"Excuse , may I have a glass of water? Thank you."
The plane from Los Angeles to New York had entered a steady flight phase. Edgar had just finished explaining the whole situation, and now he was feeling parched.
If he weren't worried about needing to jump into work as soon as the plane landed, Edgar would have been eager for a drink—a glass of whiskey would have been nice.
But Edgar restrained himself—
Business first.
After adjusting his breath, Edgar turned to look at Anson, his eyes still reflecting a mix of surprise and admiration.
Ready to go at a mont's notice, quick and decisive.
No luggage, no personal belongings—just as Anson had said, all he needed was his wallet and keys, and he was ready to go.
Then, they rushed to Los Angeles International Airport, bought two tickets on the spot, and boarded the plane in a hurry. Before they knew it, they were airborne.
Throughout the journey, Anson didn't ask any questions or say much, not until they were seated in the cabin, waiting for Edgar to start explaining.
Finally, Edgar cald down, gathered his thoughts, and told Anson the whole truth, without holding anything back.
Actually, Edgar was a bit hesitant about whether he should reveal all the details, including the hidden sches. But he didn't hesitate for long; facing Anson, the answer seed to naturally surface. He knew Anson's intelligence and calm deanor—there was no need to hide the truth from him.
Besides, this was his declaration of intent; it needed to be presented properly.
After unloading everything in one go, Edgar took the opportunity to ask for water to adjust his pace. He then shifted his gaze back to Anson, and a sense of absurdity washed over him—
Anson, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans—forget a suitcase, he didn't even have any carry-ons; everything fit easily into his pockets. He looked like he was going out for afternoon tea with friends. Yet here he was, sitting on a plane, about to cross the entire North Arican continent.
No panic, no haste.
No tension, no anxiety.
He was calm and relaxed, even more so than Edgar, who had initiated this whole thing. Just this detail alone showed Anson's composure and poise, causing a slight smile to tug at the corners of Edgar's mouth.
Absurd as it was, it was quite interesting. This was exactly the kind of life Edgar, as an agent, craved—full of excitent and uncertainty, with both challenges and opportunities constantly intertwined, like riding a roller coaster at every mont. It was all about who could control the situation.
Unconsciously, the image of Harry Smith's furious face after the eting floated in his mind. Edgar believed he had made the right move with this risky decision.
Then, Edgar t Anson's eyes.
"So, do you have any questions?"
Anson had been patient and focused the whole ti, never disrupting Edgar's flow. He seed passive, entirely following Edgar's lead; but in fact, he was holding back, firmly grasping the initiative.
And now, it was no different.
Anson didn't rush. Even though countless questions were swirling in his mind and the whole situation seed unbelievable, he quickly realized that those questions weren't important.
There was only one thing that mattered.
"Why ?" Anson asked.
Edgar replied, "Like I told you last ti, because I believe you're special…"
Anson's lips curled slightly, "Intuition?"
Edgar could see that this wasn't the answer Anson was looking for.
Sure enough, Anson continued, "The last ti you visited my place, it was only our second eting. I trust your intuition, but I don't trust Hollywood. Here, no one is irreplaceable."
"I'm not undervaluing myself, but there are at least thousands, if not tens of thousands, of actors like in Hollywood. Believing in myself is one thing, but how you believe in and why is another."
"Captain Cook, think about your actions: without informing , without signing a contract with , you fought to get such an important opportunity. I don't think the reason behind this is that simple."
In other words, from their second eting onward, Anson never fully trusted Edgar.
That also explained why Anson hadn't signed with William Morris, hadn't signed with Creative Artists Agency, and hadn't contacted Edgar either.
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**Intuition is too intangible. In the end, it's all just words; you can say anything. Before a bond of trust is established, how can it be trusted?**
**At the sa ti, even now, with the opportunity to audition for 'Spider-Man' right in front of him, Anson has not let joy cloud his judgnt. He remains calm.**
**Edgar hesitated. Although he felt sowhat frustrated—believing that he had perford perfectly during their second eting, scoring at least 95 out of 100—he realized he hadn't managed to impress Anson. However, surprisingly, he wasn't disappointed; instead, he grew even more fond of Anson.**
**This is what a truly wise actor is.**
**Soone who is willing to listen to opinions yet has their own judgnt, stubborn yet open to the possibility of breaking out of their comfort zone. It's not about being clever, but about possessing great wisdom.**
**An actor like this would surely be a pleasure to work with.**
**But Edgar also understood that he needed to demonstrate his abilities to persuade the other person.**
**Perhaps sincerity is the only key.**
**At their last eting, Edgar had already been sincere enough, analyzing his strengths and weaknesses, but that wasn't enough. So, what should he present this ti?**
**Edgar didn't imdiately respond to Anson's words, "Since you're still skeptical, why didn't you stay ho and ask questions? Why did you follow to the airport? Aren't you worried I might kidnap you and sell you off to Bangladesh?"**
**The smile on Anson's lips grew wider, "You can try."**
**The confidence conveyed in his words was not only calm but also certain. Edgar couldn't help but shiver. He believed that if he had any ill intentions, he might be the one counting the money after being sold.**
**"Ahem." Edgar cleared his throat and subtly changed the topic. "Can I be honest with you?"**
**Anson shrugged lightly.**
**Edgar continued, "At our first eting in the theater, you were the only one who looked straight in the eye."**
**Anson: ?**
**Edgar explained further, "Not just Jas and Seth, but before that—and, in fact, since then until now—I have t countless actors: seasoned ones, newcors, those with high aspirations, those full of expectations, and even those who beg desperately at the re ntion of William Morris. I have seen all kinds of actors."**
**"But you are the only one who interacted with on equal footing."**
**"You didn't look down on because I'm a junior agent, nor did you hold in high regard because of William Morris. In your eyes, I'm just an agent, an ordinary person whose profession happens to be as an agent. What you appreciate and evaluate are professional skills, which is the only criterion for judging an agent."**
**"Your gaze and attitude truly treated as an agent."**
**At this point, Edgar's lips curled into a bitter smile.**
**"In fact, even within William Morris, no one can maintain a truly objective and fair attitude toward . You are still the only one."**
**"I think..."**
**Edgar's words were difficult to articulate, but he took a deep breath and looked up at Anson, candidly showing himself. Perhaps this was the most crucial step.**
**The fifth update.**
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