He wasn't sure if he was witnessing a party or a fever dream stitched together by delusions of grandeur and desperation. Every new door led to a new world, each more bizarre than the last. But of course, in contrast to the madness, he also came across moments that almost felt... normal. Like a small pocket of reality folded into the chaos.
He passed a small lounge area where a group of mid-level writers sat around a low table, comparing notes on a recent show's pacing and arguing about structure versus spontaneity. One of them had a legal pad covered in scribbles; another passionately defended a mid-season twist. It was the kind of conversation Rex could actually respect—craft over clout.
