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Twilight Butterfly
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>After [this], talk about how you used to have a thing for Nico, but now have a boyfriend, and feel embarrassed about the situation.
>and you're so lucky to have him, and apologize for giving Nico the wrong idea back there.
If everything goes as planned--I’ll definitely explain my behavior the other day, and that I’m taken and not looking. I tap the door with a knuckle. Mr. Booth bellows the invitation to come inside. I let out a huff to relax my muscles--and walk in.
Marlene: Mr. Booth.
Nico: Oh, you’re back! And how are you, Ms. Collins~?
>Try and stick with the independent route.
>Greet him with a droopy tone, somewhat serious but not too much.
Marlene: Been better. I might even say I’m in a good mood today. But the day can go differently, depending.
Nico: Depending...?
Marlene: Because I’m still carefully considering whether I should come back to work.
Straight to the point. His body gradually shifts from a hunch over his desk to write documents--to easing back against his chair.
Nico: Ah. And have you made your decision?
Nico: If it was a no, you’re very polite to walk in to tell me yourself.
I... still don’t have an absolute answer for him. And I can’t afford to lose momentum. Perhaps we can make a detour for now. When words are lacking, there are actions. I slap the script down on the edge of his desk as my answer.
Nico: Oh-ho? What’s this?
Marlene: That is a script.
Nico: I see. And you want to... pitch another one of your pilots?
Marlene: No. Not like that. And it’s not my script either. It’s by a man named Osman Niero; he was a teacher in Michigan who loved to write in his downtime. Never published anything though; which is unfortunate because he passed away some years ago. Instead his son submitted his stories to studios around the country but with zero responses.
Nico: Were they all terrible?
Marlene: Sir, if I hadn’t read this script all day then I probably wouldn’t have bothered to return here ever again.
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