....
"Samantha."
Gwendolyn said quietly when the assistant answered. "It’s Gwendolyn. Can you make sure no calls co through for the rest of the evening? And cancel anything he has scheduled for tomorrow morning."
["Is he okay?"] Samantha sounded concerned.
"He is fine."
["I will handle it... There aren’t any important etings today, so there won’t be any interruptions tonight. I can move his morning etings to the afternoon."
"Thank you."
Gwendolyn hung up and looked at the sofa. There wasn’t much room, but there was enough.
She slipped off her shoes and carefully settled beside him, shifting his arm so she could tuck herself against his side without waking him.
His body responded automatically, arm curling around her even in sleep, pulling her closer.
She fit perfectly there, head resting on his shoulder, one hand settling over his heart. She could feel it beating - steady, strong, reliable even when the rest of him was running on empty.
The office was quiet.
Outside, Los Angeles traffic humd distantly, but here it was just them - breathing in sync, existing in a pocket of stillness that felt stolen from the chaos of everything else.
Gwendolyn closed her eyes.
This was what she wanted. Not grand gestures or elaborate dates or anything that required scheduling and coordination.
Just this - being close to him when he finally stopped moving long enough to rest.
She felt him shift slightly, still asleep, his cheek coming to rest against the top of her head. His breathing deepened, the tension in his body slowly releasing as real rest took hold.
"I have got you." she whispered, knowing he couldn’t hear. "You can stop for a while."
His arm tightened around her fractionally, and she smiled.
Even unconscious, he was holding on.
They stayed like that - wrapped around each other on a too-small sofa in an office full of unfinished work - and for the first ti in weeks, Regal slept without dreaming of production schedules or release dates or anything that required decisions.
He just slept.
And Gwendolyn kept watch, making sure nothing disturbed him, content to exist in this small, perfect mont of quiet.
Outside, the sun set over Los Angeles, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink that neither of them saw. The city moved on without them - always moving, always demanding, always waiting.
But here, ti stopped.
And that was enough.
....
Regal woke slowly, awareness returning in fragnts.
Warmth against his side. The scent of jasmine - Gwendolyn’s perfu. Soft breathing that wasn’t his own.
He opened his eyes to find her still asleep, curled into him like she belonged there. Which she did.
The office was dark except for the city lights filtering through the windows. His laptop had gone into sleep mode. The papers around them remained scattered, problems waiting to be solved.
But none of that mattered right now.
He looked down at Gwendolyn - really looked, taking in the relaxed set of her features, the way her hand rested over his heart, the complete trust in how she slept against him without reservation.
When had she arrived? How long had they been like this?
He didn’t know, didn’t care.
Carefully, slowly, he reached over to the nearby throw blanket and pulled it over them both. Gwendolyn stirred but didn’t wake, just burrowed closer with a small sound of contentnt.
Regal settled back down, arm secure around her, and let himself sink back into rest.
The work would still be there tomorrow. The decisions, the etings, the constant motion - all of it would be waiting.
But right now, at this mont, he had everything he actually needed.
He closed his eyes and drifted, anchored by her presence, grateful for soone who knew when he needed to stop even when he didn’t.
.....
Morning ca gently.
Gwendolyn woke first, disoriented for a mont before rembering where she was. Still wrapped in Regal’s arms, the blanket cocooning them both, sunlight creeping across the floor.
She tilted her head up to find him awake, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite na.
"Hi." she said softly.
"Hi."
"You needed that."
"I know."
"You are going to argue that you are fine and didn’t need twelve hours of sleep."
"I wasn’t going to argue."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Really. You were right. I was running on fus." He paused. "Thank you for making stop."
Gwendolyn smiled and kissed his jaw. "Soone has to take care of you."
"Apparently."
They stayed there a while longer, neither willing to break the spell. Eventually, practical concerns intruded - hunger, schedules, the world outside demanding attention.
But for now, just a little longer, they held on.
....
Later, after they had finally gotten up and Gwendolyn had reheated the Thai food from last night, Samantha called.
"Good morning." she said, sounding amused. "Your first eting is at two PM. Darren wants to discuss Deadpool marketing, and Kun needs fifteen minutes about the Tokyo trip."
"That’s fine. Thank you for clearing this morning."
"Don’t thank . Thank Gwendolyn - she is terrifying when she is protecting you."
Regal glanced at Gwendolyn, who was pretending not to listen while eating pad thai. "I will keep that in mind."
"Also, the script readers want to et this afternoon. Elena found a potential Tier Four."
"Already?"
"That is what I was inford."
"Set it up for three-thirty."
....
That afternoon, Regal t with Darren about Deadpool marketing.
Ryan’s romantic campaign was generating significant buzz - pre-sales were tracking higher than projected, and social dia engagent was through the roof.
"It’s working." Darren confird. "Unconventional marketing for an unconventional film. The R-rating is actually helping - makes it feel dangerous, subversive."
"And the Valentine’s Day angle?"
"Couples are genuinely planning to see it as date night. Either ironically or because they think ultraviolent superhero action is romantic. Anyway, it’s ticket sales."
"Ryan will be insufferable when he finds out he was right."
"He already is. I got three texts this morning about ’vindication’ and ’genius recognition.’"
Regal smiled. "Let him have it. The campaign earned it."
After Darren left, Kun called from San Francisco.
....
The eting with Elena and the script readers was brief.
"We have a Tier Four." she said, holding a script.
Regal looked up, surprised. "You don’t have to hurry you know?"
"Once the word was out that LIE Studio was looking for new scripts, our E-mails basically got spamd. And just within the week, we have reviewed one hundred and eighteen scripts. This is the first one that cleared all checkpoints."
She handed him the script, a thriller titled ’Prisoners’ by Aaron Guzikowski.
"Why Tier Four?"
"Strong premise - child abduction, detective investigating, moral complexity about justice versus vengeance. The structure is tight, the dialogue is naturalistic, and the ending is devastating."
"Marketable?"
"I believe so...."
Regal flipped through it. "I will read it tonight."
The mont he heard the na, he understood what film it might be - and in fact, he was excited to see if it was the sa one.
"Marcus and David both agreed it should reach you. We wrote full evaluations."
After Elena left, Regal looked at the script.
Two hundred and eighteen submissions, and only one had made it through. That was actually better than he had expected.
Maybe the system was working.
....
While Regal was busy in other things, [Friends] team had officially began casting today–
The room slled like stale coffee and desperation.
Marta Kauffman sat at a long table, pen clicking rhythmically against her notepad.
David Crane slouched beside her, reading through headshots with the weary expression of a man who had seen two hundred people pretend to be quirky that week.
At the far end sat Sammy Park, Netflix’s managing director, looking like he might throw up.
"You okay?" Marta asked.
"Defenlty not..." Sammy adjusted his glasses for the fourth ti in two minutes. "This is only the second show Regal’s personally invested in. After Millionaire. No pressure. Just... all the pressure."
David looked up. "Breathe, Sammy. We are just casting a sitcom about six people who drink coffee."
"A sitcom." Sammy repeated flatly. "That cost more than my childhood ho."
"Several childhood hos." Marta corrected.
The door opened. A production assistant poked her head in. "Ready for the next batch?"
Marta sighed. "Send them in."
....
Rachel Auditions.
The first actress walked in wearing what could only be described as a wedding dress.
"I wanted to embody the character." she announced.
"You know Rachel runs away from her wedding in a coffee shop, not... actively getting married during the audition, right?" David said.
"I am committed to my craft."
"We can see that."
She didn’t get the part.
....
The second actress was promising - funny, charming, the right mix of privileged and lost. Then, mid-scene, her phone rang.
"I am so sorry." she said, pulling it out. "I have to take this."
"You... have to take a call? Right now?" Marta blinked.
"It’s my agent."
David leaned forward. "Your agent who told you to co to this audition?"
"Yeah."
She answered the phone. In the audition room. While they watched.
"Hey! Yeah, I am in the middle of it... No, they seem nice... What? Oh my God, really?!"
She hung up. Smiled brightly. "Sorry, I just booked a deodorant comrcial. Can we start over?"
"No." Marta said. "No, we cannot."
....
Then Emma Crawford walked in.
She wasn’t what they had pictured.
Darker hair, sharper features, a little older than the character description.
She made Rachel Green feel real - spoiled but not insufferable, naive but not stupid. When she delivered the line about cutting up her father’s credit cards, there was this tiny crack in her voice that made you believe she was actually terrified.
"Thank you." Marta said when Emma finished. "That was great."
Emma smiled, started to leave, then paused. "Can I ask - is this for NBC or Netflix?"
"Both." David said. "Netflix produces, NBC airs."
Yes - after their eting with NBC, as Regal had planned, they also attended a eting with Whitebridge Studios.
The contract Whitebridge offered had solid terms, and they seed genuinely open to working with Regal. Still, in the end, they chose to go with NBC.
"Cool." Emma nodded. "My mom’s gonna freak out. She still doesn’t believe streaming is real television."
Sammy laughed despite himself.
After Emma left, David looked at Marta. "Her?"
"Her."
Sammy made a note. One down.
....
Monica Auditions.
"I am a very clean person." the first actress announced before anyone asked. "Like, obsessively clean. I alphabetize my spices."
"That’s... great." Marta said carefully. "But we’re looking for soone who can play—"
"I also organize my socks by color and fabric weight."
"Okay—"
"And I never eat carbs after six PM."
David rubbed his temples. "We’re gonna move on."
.
....
[To be continued...]
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