Noa seriously considered pretending she had the wrong office.
She could walk out now, take the stairs, maybe fake a fever and come back tomorrow. Maybe Ren Kurosawa would magically disappear by then. Maybe she imagined last night.
Nope.
He was right there, sitting like he owned the folding chair, sipping canned coffee again like it was a lifestyle. He looked up and smiled.
"Hey, Noa. We keep meeting like this. Should I be worried?"
"You should be quiet," she muttered, walking past him.
"Oh come on," he said, standing and following. "What are the odds? Same onigiri, same company, same crew?"
"Bad luck. Obviously."
Ren laughed like it was the best answer he'd heard all week. "I like you."
Noa turned. "You don't even know me."
"That's why I like you."
She narrowed her eyes. "You're going to be annoying, aren't you?"
"Only if I try."
Before she could decide whether to roll her eyes or walk out, their team leader entered. A woman in her thirties with short hair, clipboard, and the aura of someone who had zero time for bullshit.
"Team B," she barked. "That's you two. First assignment: prep interview equipment and assist during field shoot this afternoon. Camera, mic, logistics. Understood?"
Noa nodded. Ren saluted like an idiot.
"Try not to screw up," the woman added, and walked off.
Noa turned slowly to face him. "You know how to use a boom mic?"
"Do I look like I know how to use a boom mic?"
"No."
"Well, we're in this together now."
He clapped her shoulder like they were old war buddies.
Noa flinched.
—
The studio storage room smelled like old cables and instant ramen. Noa searched for the tripod while Ren poked at boxes like they might explode.
"So what do you study?" he asked, digging into a drawer labeled 'misc (don't touch)'.
"Broadcast media. Final year. You?"
"Film production. I dropped out last year, then came back. Now I'm trying to look like I know what I'm doing."
"You're doing great," Noa said dryly.
"Thanks. I try really hard to be medium at everything."
She found the tripod. "You really talk a lot."
He shrugged. "I fill silences. People get uncomfortable."
"I like silence."
"Oh." He paused. "Then I'll try shutting up."
A beat.
"…You're still talking."
Ren grinned. "See? You do listen."
—
By the time they finished loading gear into the van, Noa was sweating and questioning every life decision.
Ren, naturally, had found a way to make everything into a joke. The battery case became a "lunchbox." The boom pole became a "jousting spear." The lav mic? "Corporate earring."
She tried not to laugh.
Failed.
A little.
"See?" he said. "I'm growing on you."
"Like mold," she muttered.
But the corners of her mouth betrayed her.
Just a bit.