There were a lot of familiar faces now.
Billy strolled in shortly after Misha, nodding at a few people he recognized before shooting Ian a grin. His blindfold hung around his wrist like a stylish bracelet.
The moment it was off, he'd made a beeline to make new friends, basking in the praise he was getting from the newer, less recognized artists.
Behind him came others—faces Ian vaguely remembered from commercials, web dramas, indie films. There were a few more—rookie actors who'd been extras in someone's flashback or played best friend #2 with one line and perfect eyebrows.
The space was beginning to feel fuller, like the waiting room before a very odd audition.
Somehow, among the crowd, Ian, Risa, Misha, and Hero had become a circle.
They hadn't meant to do it. It just happened. Maybe because they knew each other—or at least, had heard of each other enough to spark conversation (except for Hero, he still doesn't know why he's here).
