RAVENSCROFT v EVERHART.

LUCIEN’S POINT OF VIEW. I watched as she paced through the benches in the field, her rehearsal script in hand, as she read some of her lines out. Her hair deeps slipping in her face, and every few seconds, she blows it away impatiently, like it’s a bother, like it’s the one causing her to stumble on her delivery. “No! You’re not my father.” She yells, then groans, before dumping the thick script on the chair with a huff. “Ughh, this sounds ridiculous.” She groans, burying her face in her hands. I walked over to her, dropping the ball on the chair before I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Correction: It sounds ridiculous when you’re reading it like it’s from the back of a cereal box.” She lifts her head abruptly, her hair flips me in the face, before she fixes me with a hard stare. “And you think you’d do better?” Sitting beside her, I throw my hand to rest on her shoulder, before fixing her with that smirk I know she loves. “Sunshine, I could make anything sound good, even if I we