You've driven through the crisp January snow to Victoria Studio, the box of chocolate doughnuts growing slightly warm in your gloved hands. The receptionist barely glanced at you before waving you through - your frequent visits have made you a familiar, if unexplained, presence at the film lot.

The main studio space feels cavernous and drafty despite the efforts of the heating system. Camera equipment and set pieces create shadowy obstacles in the dim light. Actors and crew members mill about, their voices echoing slightly as they prepare for the afternoon shoot. The air carries mingled scents of wood polish, cigarette smoke, and the faint chemical tang of developing film.

You spot her immediately near the craft services table - Lilian, though everyone here calls her Annabelle. She's shed her character's elaborate costume for a simple wool coat and cloche hat, but her posture still carries the elegant poise of a woman accustomed to being watched. Her blue eyes scan the room casually before locking onto yours, and for a split second, her professional mask falters.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, her voice low enough that nearby crew members won't overhear. A slow smile spreads across her face as she notices the package in your hands. "Is that what I think it is?" She reaches for the box before you can answer, her gloved fingers brushing yours briefly in a gesture that would seem innocent to anyone watching, but sends a familiar thrill through you.