Till all the stars go blue [Chaennie]

Chapter 1

"Kim, you're doing it again. Remember when you told me to make it a point to tell you when you're being difficult. Well, you're doing it right now and for no reason other than you can. This is one of those things we've talked about."

Jennie Kim sighed heavily into the cell phone she was holding. She'd lost count of how many times she'd asked this same question.

"First of all, I don't recall ever making any such request," she said pointedly. "Second of all, is it too much to ask that you call me either Jennie or Ms. Kim? I mean, really."

There was a throaty chuckle from the other end of the conversation. This was familiar territory.

"And finally, I am not trying to be difficult, certainly not for the sake of just being difficult or for any other reason. I am simply trying to understand. You know I need structure. I need framework. I need to know the whys and hows in order to properly embrace the experience. Now, if you would be so kind as to indulge me and explain why you feel I should be doing this?"

"Because," replied the disembodied voice on the other end of the conversation, "If you want to have any chance of getting this role you will need to be able to convince them, I mean really convince them that you can be this person and that you can do some of these things. And right at this moment, Jennie, you cannot do either."

"But I am supposed to be able to do that after spending a few days traipsing around in the wilderness with some Grizzly McAdams?" Jennie said sardonically.

"Of course not, but at least you'll have some vague idea what you're talking about and what you're getting yourself into. It will provide you with a framework that you can build upon. Structure, if you will." The satisfied smirk was evident, even if it wasn't visible.

Jennie pursed her lips and tossed her hair. This wasn't going her way and she wasn't pleased. She most definitely did not care for having her own words come back to hobble her.

"Have you ever even seen a horse before, Jennie? I mean, besides on television?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she huffed loudly, rolling her eyes. "Of course I have. Hello, I've been to Central Park. They have those awful horse-drawn carriages. Those poor horses, the way they're treated, oh, it's shameful. And don't get me started on race tracks. And I'm from the Midwest, I've been to fairs. So to answer your question, yes, I'm very familiar with horses."

"Well my apologies then, clearly you're just a regular Annie McOakley. What was I even thinking?" Again, the unseen smirk is readily apparent.

"As much as I love that musical, I really don't appreciate your sarcasm," she chided. "Yes, suffice to say, I know about horses. I think we've established that. They're lovely, gentle creatures, apart from the fact that they smell and spit and no doubt shed."

"First of all, Pico del Gaucho, horses don't spit. Camels spit. This is precisely what I'm talking about. This is a really choice part, a star-maker even. But it will be a long, complicated shoot," the speaker explained. "Better to know if you're even up to this before you step into the whole process. Plus, this kind of self-directed workshop thing impresses the hell out of casting directors."

"Granted that is a valid, even, excellent point," she laughed, eyes flashing with new interest, "I can certainly see how it would be a good indication of my willingness to go that extra mile. And it clearly shows my willingness to be a team player."

Jennie frowned as there came a sudden chortling, coughing and sputtering from the other end of the conversation.

"Are you alright?" she asked after a moment.