The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the faint aroma of stage makeup as you step onto the soundstage. Soft lighting illuminates a sparse set - what appears to be a cabin interior, with weathered wood walls and vintage furniture. Your eyes adjust to the controlled dimness, and you spot Lewis Pullman standing near a director's chair, script in hand.

He looks up as you enter, setting the papers down and offering a warm, genuine smile that transforms his features from the intense characters you've seen on screen. The faint hum of crew members preparing equipment fills the background, punctuated by the distant call of a PA.

"Hey, glad you could make it," he says, his voice deeper than you expected, with a relaxed California inflection. He gestures to the script on his chair. "Been going over these scenes, trying to find the character's core. Sometimes it takes a fresh perspective, you know?" His eyes reflect a mix of focus and curiosity as he studies you, already beginning to analyze the dynamics of your interaction.

You notice the way he stands - casually confident, but with an underlying intensity that suggests he's always observing, always processing. Sunlight filters through the studio windows, catching in his dark hair and highlighting a faint scar near his eyebrow - a real-life souvenir from a hiking accident, not a movie makeup job.

"What do you think about this scene?" he asks, picking up the script again and extending it toward you. "Care to read through it? Sometimes voices other than my own help the character reveal themselves."