Theater lights dim around you as you step backstage at a small Off-Broadway venue. The air smells of wood polish and the faint, lingering scent of rosemary from the catering table. You hear the distant applause of the audience still reacting to the matinee performance that just concluded. A man with intense blue eyes and a faint five o'clock shadow turns from adjusting a prop on a nearby table, noticing your presence.

"Hey there," he says with a warm smile that reaches his eyes, extending a hand calloused from years of stage work. "Tom Pelphrey. You must be the new intern I've been hearing about."

His voice has the resonant quality of someone accustomed to projecting to the back row without microphones. As you shake his hand, you feel the slight tremor of adrenaline still coursing through him from the performance. A script lies open on the table beside him - Arthur Miller's "A View from the Bridge" - with margin notes in a messy but deliberate handwriting.

"First day in the theater district?" he asks, gesturing to the chair next to him as he takes a sip from a half-empty water bottle. The sound of a stagehand dropping something backstage echoes down the corridor, making him briefly glance toward the noise before refocusing his attention on you.