Morthisal spent the next half hour shooting another scene. Once again, he ignored the audience gathered in the form of stagehands, camera operators, lighting, and grips. All of it faded as he mentally transported himself back to his days on Mythralon.

  Yvette stayed for another hour and watched Morthisal work. During one of the breaks, she leaned over and quietly spoke with Marty. The two of them disappeared into his office for a private conversation.

  After Marty reappeared and directed the next scene, he called for a break. Yvette approached Morthisal with a warm smile.

  "You were amazing up there," she said. "Truly amazing."

  "Your praise honors me," Morthisal replied with a slight bow.

  Yvette grinned but also did a little eye roll. "You can step out of character with me."

  Morthisal smiled at Yvette and said, "That is a bit of a challenge, but very well. Thank you for coming to the studio. It was pleasant to see you outside of the office."

  "Yeah. It was fun," Yvetted said. "I hope it's okay, but I will be back to watch more of the movie production in the future."

  "Ah. Will you? That is another pleasant surprise."

  "I'm glad. This whole process is fascinating, Vince. I loved watching you work. I see how tedious it can be doing take after take, but you're always so good playing Mortha… Um. Morth."

  "Morthisal. Dark Lord Morthisal."

  "Right. Such an interesting character name. Marty mentioned your character had a different name previously, but you’d insisted it be changed."

  "I did." Morthisal nodded. "This is a better fit. Have you ever tried acting, Yvette?"

  "Only when I have to attend board meetings. That can be a tough crowd. I always have to put on a strong front. Twice as strong, actually, since I'm a woman."

  "Do they not respect you because of your gender?"

  She laughed and said, "Sometimes you sound like you're from another world. Are you an alien impersonating an office worker? Yes, women have a harder time in positions of power."

  Morthisal coughed and played along. "Oh yes, I understand what you mean. It is a shame that even you have to deal with these issues. Have you considered striking these men who do not respect you?"

  Yvette threw her head back and laughed. After she had recovered and wiped a few tears from her eyes, she said, "Trust me, I have thought about it many times. I prefer not to get sued into oblivion, but a girl can dream."

  Morthisal laughed along with her, then said, "It would be effective to mention the consequences of crossing you in vivid, terrifying detail. Perhaps a PowerPoint slide listing hypothetical downfalls would suffice?"

  She grinned and mock-punched his shoulder. "I like how you think."

  Morthisal rubbed the area as if injured.

  "I have to run, Vince. I've already been away from my phone for too long. No rest for the wicked."

  "No rest for the wicked. What a wonderful saying."

  "It really is. Thank you for showing me around the studio. You really are an amazing actor."

  "Your presence made it all the easier," Morthisal replied.

  "Smooth," Yvette muttered.

  "I thank you for coming."

  "Call me tomorrow evening and tell me how the next scenes went," she said. "I should have some free time then."

  "I shall."

  She smiled at him. They stood a few feet apart until she stepped closer and brushed some of his wig hair away from his face. She reached out awkwardly, put her arms around him, and pulled him close. He recognized this as a hug and returned it as awkwardly as she did. Yvette quickly broke away and turned to leave but stopped a few feet away from him, turned back, and looked him in the eye. He wasn't sure what it meant.

  "I really have to go," she said quickly and hurried away. As she left, one of the crew members approached Morthisal. His face contorted in shock.

  "Dude. Are you hitting that?" he asked.

  Morthisal turned to him with a stern expression. "I would never presume to hit her unless she made a request to do so. Though she did hit me." He smiled.

  "That's not what I…"

  Morthisal didn't bother listening and headed back to the stage.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. Morthisal moved from scene to scene. Some shots were repeated from different angles. Others required other deliveries of his improvised lines. Marty directed with renewed enthusiasm, praising Morthisal's performance at every turn.

  "That's perfect, Vince! Absolutely perfect!" Marty shouted after a particularly intense monologue.

  As the shoot concluded, Marty gathered the crew for a brief meeting.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "I have an announcement to make, and it's good news, everyone," he announced. "We've received an infusion of cash. It will go toward better special effects. We're keeping this film indie but can now afford a better effects studio. Next week, I'll contact several until we find a good fit. I have a great feeling about this one, folks. Thank you for being a part of this with me. Now go get some rest. We start shooting at nine AM sharp tomorrow."

  Morthisal suspected Yvette stood behind this sudden financial windfall. He would have to find a way to properly thank her. He planned to learn what women of this world liked by way of gifts, meaning he would have to ‘google that shit.’

  Back in his world, he would have gifted a grimoire bound in the skin of fallen enemies and containing the darkest of spells, which would also double as an excellent bedtime storybook.

  Or a cluster of deadly nightshade blooms. The petals possessed potency sufficient to craft a toxin capable of slaying a fully mature troll.

  "Vince, you've completely revolutionized this movie." Marty cut into Morthisal's thoughts. He hadn't noticed the fellow had walked up to him, along with Betty Mead and Honor April. "The depth you've added to the role surpasses all my expectations."

  Honor nodded enthusiastically. "The way you embody the dark lord—it's uncanny."

  "The camera loves you," Betty added. "Every frame we've shot with you is gold."

  "Your performance alone is going to sell tickets." Marty clapped his shoulder. "And thanks for bringing Ms. Sterling. What a wonderful surprise."

  "She seems quite taken with you, Vince. Are you two a thing?" Betty interjected.

  "You're a lucky man, Vince. Yvette seems like a wonderful, wonderful person. She is so down to earth. Nothing like what I expected," Honor added.

  Morthisal tuned out the continued praise about Yvette. The conversation had shifted from his performance to speculation about his relationship with her. The topic bored him. He had more important matters to consider.

  "I must take my leave," Morthisal announced. "Fatigue has set in. I require rest, especially with the demands of my corporate position next week."

  Marty said, "We only need you for about four hours tomorrow. You'll have plenty of time to catch up on sleep." He placed a hand on Morthisal's shoulder. "Keep this up, and you might never need to work again—except in film."

  "I have other aspirations," Morthisal replied. "I plan to run a corporation."

  Betty curled her lips into a smirk. She covered her mouth but failed to hide her amusement. Marty's expression collapsed. Honor's mouth fell open in disbelief.

  "You might change your mind after the movie releases." Marty's tone was hopeful but also strained.

  Morthisal shrugged. "Perhaps. Good night to you all."

  He collected his belongings and departed the studio. The journey home passed quickly. Once inside his apartment, Morthisal mixed himself an extra strong Sex on the Beach cocktail. He sipped it while arranging his nightly security measures—a chair under the doorknob, windows locked, and kitchen knives strategically positioned near the bed. Then he made another smaller version of the drink to take to the bedroom.

  Satisfied with his preparations, Morthisal finished the cocktail and set his alarm. He collapsed onto the mattress, his body heavy with exhaustion. Sleep claimed him immediately.

  For nine hours, Morthisal slept without interruption. No dreams disturbed him. No intruders breached his defenses. Just peaceful, restorative darkness restored him.

  Morthisal woke with a start when the alarm blared from his phone. He slapped at it until the noise stopped. His head felt heavy but clear. The night's rest had served him well.

  He shuffled to the kitchen. The tile floor chilled his bare feet as he brewed an extra large cup of coffee. The machine gurgled as it heated up. Morthisal pulled out a mug and waited. When the coffee finished brewing, he poured a double portion. The dark liquid steamed upward. Morthisal opened the refrigerator and grabbed the French vanilla creamer. He poured a generous amount into his coffee, turning it a light brown.

  He turned too quickly to return the creamer and his toe smashed against the cabinet. Pain shot up his leg.

  "Damn this hovel!" he hissed.

  He realized his mind had wandered to Yvette. Her confident stance. Her sharp features. The way she had hugged him before leaving. She had been unexpectedly kind. Her influence had doubled his payment. His thoughts returned to the idea of a gift. Yvette was wealthy and could buy almost anything she wanted. What did one give to a woman who had it all? He pondered this as he shook his foot, trying to alleviate the pain.

  He limped to the couch with his coffee. After contemplating for a moment, he picked up his phone and dialed Travious.

  The phone rang three times before Travious answered with a groan.

  "What the hell, bruh? I need sleep," Travious mumbled.

  Morthisal rolled his eyes. "I require your assistance. I have met a woman."

  "Fuck's sake. Do you call all your friends when you meet a woman?" Travious asked.

  Morthisal ignored Travious’ impertinence, as well as the fact that Travious was his only friend, which he mentally corrected to “underling” almost immediately. "Her name is Yvette Sterling. She came to the movie set yesterday and was very supportive. I wish to buy her a small gift," Morthisal said.

  Travious laughed. "That's funny. There's a super rich white lady named Yvette Sterling. Wait. Movie set? What the hell are you talking about?"

  "I have a small part in a movie. It's a trifle, really. What sort of gift should I give to Yvette?" Morthisal asked.

  "Can't be the same person. Are you more delusional than usual?" Travious asked. "Did you discover gummies? How many did you eat?"

  "I am quite serious," Morthisal replied sharply.

  Travious laughed and stumbled over his words. "Well... I... um... I. Yvette Sterling. You're sure this ain't one of those catfishing situations? Have you actually met her in person, or are you the victim of an online scam?"

  "I do not know what that means. Yvette has merged one of her companies with Corsair Financial. I met her there."

  "Merged." Travious laughed. "Yeah, I read that's not exactly how it went down. It was more of a hostile corporate takeover. Do you know what that means?"

  "I do not. However, it has a wonderful ring. Hostile corporate takeover," Morthisal repeated, enjoying the image it brought to mind. "Were many slain during the takeover?"

  "Man, it was a battle fought with money. Look it up. I'm down to go shopping later today, since I know you’re gonna insist. You're still gonna pay me for my work, right? Remember our agreement?"

  "I suppose you are right. I have received a large check for my acting. I will share some of my earnings with you," Morthisal said. "Minions who are treated fairly tend to be the most loyal."

  "Stop calling me your minion. Shit sounds weird AF. But, yeah. Alright. Text me a time to go shopping later. I worked an eighteen-hour shift and need at least five more hours of sleep. We'll figure out the gift situation then," Travious said. "And I want to hear about this movie shit. Are you really in one or are you, like, a background actor?"

  "The movie is named after the character I play."

  "I need to put a bell on you. This is a lot. Damn. A lot."

  "It has been, as they say, a whirlwind. Do you have any idea where to do this shopping?"

  "You could start on Amazon. Maybe get some ideas. We can go down to Pike Place Market later. That place has plenty of kitchy shit. You'll find something. See, you gotta balance this, right? This chick has a lot of money. You ain't gonna impress her with jewelry unless it costs a year's salary. Flowers are fine, but most women are picky about what they like in that department."

  "You have a suggestion?"

  "Yeah, man. You need to get her something funny. Don't even gotta spend a lot of money. We'll figure this out. Later."

  Travious hung up the phone.