Operation Golden Retriever

The next morning, the set of *Crown of Shadows* was buzzing. The gossip about the "Red Carpet Reject" was louder than the dragons in the CGI department.

Penny was power-walking toward Soundstage 4 with a tray of coffees when a hand shot out from a dark trailer door and yanked her inside.

She spilled a little latte foam but managed to save the cups.

"Hey!" she yelped.

She was standing in Sebastian’s trailer. It smelled of sage, old books, and despair. The windows were blacked out. There was a human skull on the makeup table (plastic, hopefully) and a mood board covered in pictures of medieval torture devices.

Sebastian was pacing the small space. He was wearing a silk robe and looking manic.

"I have had an epiphany," he announced, spinning to face her.

"Does it involve kidnapping?" Penny asked, checking the lids on the coffees. "Because I can't be an accessory until after lunch."

"No," Sebastian said. He gestured to a pile of magazines on his sofa. They were tabloids. *People*, *Us Weekly*, *Hello!*. "I have analyzed the data. Clarissa left me because I am 'too intense.' Because I am 'dark.' Because I am a 'Villain.'"

"And because Chad has abs you can grate cheese on," Penny muttered.

"Chad is a Golden Retriever in human form!" Sebastian shouted. "He is sunny. He is approachable. He wears beige."

He stopped pacing and looked at Penny with terrifying intensity.

"You," he said.

"Me?"

"You are..." He gestured vaguely at her bright yellow cardigan and her messy bun held together by a pencil. "You are sunny. You are approachable. You talk to people without making them cry."

"It's a skill," Penny agreed.

"Teach me," Sebastian commanded.

Penny blinked. "Teach you what?"

"Teach me to be a Golden Retriever," Sebastian said. "I need to rebrand. If I can prove to the world—and to Clarissa—that I can be light and frothy and romantic, she will realize her mistake. I need to pivot from 'Antagonist' to 'RomCom Lead.'"

Penny stared at him. This was a man who prepared for scenes by listening to Gregorian chants in the dark.

"Sebastian," she said gently. "You once told me you’re allergic to pastel colors."

"I will take antihistamines," he declared. "Please, Penny. I am drowning. I need a coach. I will pay you. I will get you a producer credit. I will... I will stop stealing the craft services donuts."

Penny narrowed her eyes. "You're the one stealing the glazed rings?"

"It is a stress response," he admitted.

Penny looked at him. He was ridiculous. He was melodramatic. He was also desperate. And deep down, under the velvet and the pretension, he was kind of... sweet.

"Okay," Penny sighed. "Operation Golden Retriever commences now. But first, we need to do something about the face."

"My face?" Sebastian touched his cheek. "It is my instrument."

"It's scowling," Penny said. "You rest in scowl. We need to find your smile."

"I can smile," Sebastian insisted.

He attempted a smile. He barred his teeth. His eyes widened. He looked like a wolf deciding which limb to eat first.

Penny flinched. "Okay. Put that away. Never do that again."

"Was it not jovial?"

"It was homicidal," Penny said. "We have work to do."

The first lesson was Wardrobe.

Penny dragged Sebastian to the costume department during lunch.

"No black," Penny ordered. "No velvet. No leather."

"What does that leave?" Sebastian asked, horrified. "Nudity?"

"Knits," Penny said. She pulled out a chunky, oatmeal-colored cable-knit sweater. "Put this on. It says, 'I drink cocoa and hug my mother.'"

Sebastian held it like it was radioactive. He put it on. He looked itching and uncomfortable, but surprisingly... cuddly.

"Okay," Penny said, evaluating him. "Now, small talk. You’re walking past the makeup artist, Tina. What do you say?"

Sebastian stood up straight, puffing out his chest. "Tina, your brushes are the instruments of deception, painting lies upon the canvas of our mortality."

Penny buried her face in her hands. "No. You say, 'Hi Tina, love the new hair. How are the kids?'"

"Why would I ask about her offspring? Are they ill?"

"It's called showing interest," Penny explained. "People like it when you ask about them. Try it."

Sebastian marched up to a mannequin head. "Greetings. How is your spawn?"

"It's a start," Penny muttered.

The real test came an hour later. They were walking to the set. Tina, the head of makeup, walked by.

Sebastian froze. He looked at Penny. Penny gave him a double thumbs-up.

Sebastian lunged at Tina. "Tina! Your hair colors are... vibrant. Do your children still live?"

Tina dropped her brush belt. She looked terrified. "Yes?"

"Excellent," Sebastian said. He attempted the smile again. The wolf smile.

Tina shrieked and ran away.

Sebastian turned to Penny, looking crestfallen. "I frightened the paint-woman."

Penny walked over and patted his arm. The oatmeal sweater was soft under her hand.

"We’ll work on the delivery," she said. "But the sweater looks nice."

Sebastian looked down at her. For a second, his face softened—not a performance, just a reaction. "Thank you, Penny. You are... patient."

"I'm a 3rd AD," she shrugged, ignoring the flutter in her chest. "Patience is in the job description."

\---