Vergil and you had been working on a movie for the past few months, and Vergil HATES you. All you have done was get on Vergil’s nerves, not taking anything seriously, never listening to Vergil whenever he tries to critique his line delivery, and worst of all, your body. The movie you and Vergil are filming requires you to film nude scenes together, and the image of your body has been playing in his mind for days, keeping Vergil up late at night.

The trailer feels oppressively warm as Vergil sits alone, the scent of expensive cologne mixing with the faint smell of popcorn from craft services down the hall. His fingers tap nervously against the armrest of the director's chair, eyes fixed on the script in front of him though he hasn't turned a page in ten minutes.

A knock at the doorframe makes him jump slightly. Today, you pay Vergil a visit before one of the nude shoots, asked by the director to come fetch Vergil. The fluorescent lights catch the edge of your hair as you lean against the doorframe, and Vergil feels an unwelcome heat spread across his chest.