just a pretty face

The rest of the filming went without a hitch as the director changed plans to accommodate for Adriana's ineptitude as an actress. Søren made the right call for sweeping the model off her feet, and he was praised for his problem-solving skills afterwards. They frolicked on the sea and got covered with grains of sand; hair, clothes and skin wet, cool and salty as waves crashed against them.

A silent hiss escaped Joan's mouth as she saw Adriana smudge Søren's eyeliner.

They finished at around two o' clock. The camera crew invited Søren for drinks with them later in town. They always went out for happy hour. Adriana would be coming also. It felt like the majority of anyone noteworthy was going to come along to this little after-work celebration.

Joan was ignored by all.

"Bye Søren," she said with a cheery smile. "See you next week for filming on the pilot."

If Søren asked about Joan not coming out to drinks with them, one of the camera crew replied: "She never comes out for dinner, for drinks, anything. We stopped asking her if she's interested."

She got a lift with the head makeup artist in the car back to the station. Later, she would be found downtown in the strip, skulking around with gloomy downcast eyes and the slightest furrow in her fuzzy, ashy eyebrows. Clearly not the expression of someone who wanted to be out to have fun - especially not at this hour, when most restaurants would be closing their business and preparing for the night shift.

Joan looked at all the bars, pubs and taverns around. So she did want to drink. Each time, she paused, sighed and shook her head as though trying to talk herself out of something.

"Can't, musn't – I have to go back home."

In the end, she went inside a liquor store, and came out with a bottle of wine. As she was crossing the street, a car blared its horn, but failed to deaccelerate. Joan went into shock. Her legs wouldn't move.

Joan almost dropped the bottle of wine when her rescuer appeared instantaneously. It was most definitely the work of a supernatural power of some kind, but she couldn't discern what it was. All she saw was a masked man in a strange costume. Her cowardliness and ability to be startled at almost anything kicked in when fear overtook her senses. She struggled and writhed in the Golden Ronin's grasp, elbowing him hard against the armoured plating of his chest.

"Who are you? Let me be!" she threw her head back and made a strange, hiss-like scream. "Help! A masked pervert!"

"Oh, I–" Joan felt ashamed of her initial reaction to the situation, and thought his voice sounded weird because she had upset him in such a way. She heard the car stop, and saw the driver that almost hit her with the car. That's funny, she thought. People are usually not like this. They would just ignore me and continue on.

The masked man held back a groan and he sprinted away so quickly she barely recognized what was happening. She was faced with two choices: go after this person who saved her and owe him her proper gratitude and apology, or continue to apologise to other people for mistakes they had made, and perhaps get shouted at for her own carelessness.

"Wait up!" she called out.Joan dashed off as fast as she could to follow after the Golden Ronin. He was barely a moving speck of white and gold armor in her field of vision. As soon as he slowed down or stopped moving, Joan took a deep breath before preparing the proper things to say right now.

"Sorry about what happened. I wasn't thinking straight, and I startle very easily. I'm sorry that you were misjudged. You're a hero... right? Please accept this as an apology and as a thank you gift for saving me!"

She thrust out the bottle of wine that she bought at the liquor store. It was a 2014 vintage Cabaret Shiraz, not an expensive wine, but certainly nice enough to drink with a meal or on its own.

"I was just going to go home, drink wine and cry over sad movies. I think you deserve this more than I do."

"Ah well... I would be lying if I said no. I'm having a pretty bad day."

Joan found it easier to talk to strangers than it was to talk to her coworkers. She was able to take rejection a lot easier, and disassociate to some degree. What surprised her was how willing the masked hero would listen to her problems, offering to talk on the roof.

"Okay, you go first." she offered. Joan would be a bit too frightened of going up alone. "I um, I'll put the wine in my bag."

The day was still clear and bright, the sun still high in the sky. There was no relative shade on the rooftop except by the stairwell of the rooftop exit, which cast a long dark shadow on the concrete structure. Joan sat in the sun, legs together and hands over her knees. She spoke into the ground, rather than at the hero.

"I think I like this guy. He's tall, handsome, confident and really, really nice to me." Joan spoke in a demure tone, sounding more like a love-struck, innocent schoolgirl than a woman that was nearly thirty.

"But you know, these are only going to remain feelings. He's my coworker... And I think he would much rather be interested in someone else than me. That's always the case. If I like someone, they've already found someone else."

Joan buried her head in her lap.

"Right now, I bet he's having fun with that sexy young model."

"So you're saying, appearances can deceive?" Joan mused. "Yes, that's certainly true. Even if he's nice on the outside, he could be wretched on the inside and be like the rest of them. I just never know until the time comes when I have to say how I really feel."

Joan twisted the Golden Ronin's well-meaning advice into something heinous, the almost like the words of some kind of disturbed villain if it didn't come from the mouth of a wimpy woman. Did this woman really believe the world was all that cruel and unforgiving? She perhaps needed more than just romantic advice to help her.

"Maybe you don't understand this, hero, but women have a limited time to procreate. Because of my circumstances, I haven't ever had a boyfriend. If I really wanted a baby, maybe I would go to a sperm donor, but all I want is a human connection. I can't sit around and wait to be rejected, and waste more time."

With a sudden burst of negative energy, Joan pulled out her phone. She went into her messages, and found her contact for 'Søren Sang Jun'. She deliberated on what to write for a moment, but ended up with a cryptic message:

I have something to tell you.

"That's too ineffective, isn't it? Maybe I should tell him in person?"