charlotte, ingrid

1

The first time she sees Charlotte is in the spring.

Well, technically. The truth is that she doesn't even really see her at first. You'd think you were done with auditioning once you'd been offered the role, but no, turned out once they'd settled on you they used you to help find the best actor to star opposite you. She goes through audition after audition, girl after girl, until they all start to blend into one, a caricature of all those candidates, Ingrid's Potential Co-Leads.

It's the evening of day God-knows-how-much, she's tired, and all she can really think about is pasta.
She'd left the room for a bit to get a drink, and Number Thirty is already waiting when she gets back, clutching the script in both hands like a kid with a new toy. Ingrid smiles, and the girl grins wide back at her. It's contagious. She's a little giddy, Ingrid can tell, so jacked up on euphoria and excitement and nervousness and want that she's practically intoxicated. It's infectious, really.

One of the casting directors clears their throats and shuffles their mysterious papers. The girl ducks her head, swipes her hair behind her ear, settles into a different person.

Ingrid takes a quick breath, shakes her script out once, and begins. The scene runs smoothly, surprisingly so. Ingrid is aware of whispering coming from behind her. Probably a good sign.

It's all over in less than ten minutes. The girl smiles at her again as she's being ushered out, and then the next one walks in, before Ingrid even has the chance to smile back.

(She doesn't like the next one.)

Still, some impressions linger in the back of Ingrid's mind through the next hour or so. Number Thirty's contagious smile. The bad jokes she made under her breath. The way she slid into character with such ease. When they finally break, Ingrid makes sure to find her and ask for her name.

Number Thirty grins, exhaling shakily. "I'm Charlotte. Hi."

"Hi," answers Ingrid. This is now awkward than she expected. "So. Um. What did you think?"

Charlotte runs her fingers through hair and clasps her hands together against the base of her neck. "I – I don't know. I mean, I had fun and everything, but like – I don't know."

Ingrid laughs and remembers again how relieved she is that she's already passed through that stage. "I had fun too, actually. I think you were good. I mean obviously I can't actually confirm anything," she adds in a rush, "but I thought you were pretty good. You could get it."

Charlotte shrugs . "Any one of us could."

Which is true. Ingrid decides to get off this track. "Is this your first job? Acting?"

She asks that question at two o'clock, and neither of them leaves the spot until six that evening. They talk about acting, then about the script, then they trade old stage mishaps. Charlotte talks with her hands, accidentally hitting someone twice, stumbling over her own sentences. Ingrid can't help but laugh at her a little, and Charlotte laughs too, slightly embarrassed. It's cute. Ingrid smiles. She likes this, she decides. She likes Charlotte. She's a little shy and a lot nervous but she's alright, really.

("Alright?" Charlotte will ask incredulously later. "I was over there half in love with you and you thought I was alright?")

She still tries to keep an open mind after that. Just because she happens to get along with Charlotte (really well) and like her (really like her) and her acting (she's good!) doesn't mean the people who are actually in charge are going to hire her. She's not going to get herself in too deep just to be crushed. She tells herself this at least thrice a day.