Right Back After This

Episode 2

Riz swallows fear with a practised grace. He's not perfect at it- anxiety is cute, after all, and it humanises- but he can certainly downplay his horror, as if the cameras can still see him. Soul-crushing terror is not cute, and it's too humanising.

There are only four seats affixed by this table, swivel chairs colour-coded as if the group will easily forget which one they are. The table is a half-circle, facing the huge screen that takes up most of one wall; in front of that screen are the three managers. Paloma and Ares have both taken spare chairs, sitting across the line of the half-circle, but Sonja paces back and forth in front of the screen. Riz knows not to worry especially about that.

The edges of the room are filled with production assistants, as well as one or two security guards. Not Colian, Riz notes. In the corner, someone's got headphones on to listen to everyone's microphone feeds. They give a thumbs up to the managers when they're confident they're off, and the mad scramble begins.

Someone's already approaching Shia's face with a needle of some cosmetic purpose. Wrenley's handed a drink that she clearly isn't allowed to refuse, and she grimaces as she downs it. Amello is held still in his chair by one person, while another takes fine scissors and carefully trims the tiniest pieces off of his hair. Riz's arm is grabbed, and a small "sorry" is muttered as a needle is plunged into his elbow. He's never been one to freak out at blood, nor does it hurt much, and so he watches the syringe fill up- and even out of the corner of his eye, he can see Amello cringe and look away. Riz is often struck with the desire to tell Amello his entire history, to shock him with the knowledge of just how little Riz is bothered by needles. It would be cruel, like telling a child their imaginary friend isn't real.

"Right." Sonja taps the screen, and it buzzes to life, the whole wall suddenly full with an image of some social media page. A video of Shia sitting in his red bedroom, casually chatting at the camera, plays, but Sonja speaks over it. "Shia, please stop forgetting your age. You're not in your thirties. You are never in your thirties."

"That means don't mention how old you are," Ares interjects. Riz watches him like he's going to explode and Ares doesn't even notice. Riz clutches his fist as the needle comes out of his arm; how rude of it to take, instead of give.

"More importantly," Sonja overwrites, "it means that fans think you're born in '86. Luckily, everyone assumes you misspoke."

Shia isn't given a chance to respond to any of that- as if he could while an aesthetician holds his face still.

"Wrenley." Sonja is the one rattling this all off, but Paloma throws a cautionary glare Wrenley's way. Wrenley is pretending not to notice, taking the chance to grab fruit from the centre of the table. "You're seeing bad boy Jace today. Please make it convincing."

"For once," Paloma mutters under her breath. The room moves on as if she hadn't spoken.

When Sonja taps the screen again, it comes up with one of the fan forums, a gif of Wrenley hugging one of the other members of Atlantis. Admittedly, it does look stiff to Riz.

"What exactly am I making convincing?" she asks. In every room but this one, there's this knowing smile she has, just under the surface, that seems completely authentic, until you notice it's gone in here. Her fingers dig into the skin of the dark red fruit with nothing but an empty exhaustion. "Last time Paloma said I flirted too much."

"I was clear," Paloma warns lowly, and her nails do a dangerous tapping on the table. Riz remembers that meeting, and she was not.

"If you can't make it work, we can put some spin on it." It doesn't seem like an important kindness, for Sonja to say that, but Riz recognises the olive branch. "But please just give us warning if that's what you're going to do."