"Let out your emotions, Robert—regret, loneliness, rage, fear. I need you to express them all."
"Acting out such complicated emotions... can you show me a sample first?"
"Sure, I'll go ahead."
Five minutes later, Robert Downey Jr. was silent, his eyes wide with shock.
After a long pause, he finally spoke in disbelief:"How... how did you do that?"
"Simple. I substituted myself into Wikus mindset—the emotional state of the protagonist. I wrote this script, I know Wikus emotional journey inside and out. All I did was insert myself into a part of the plot and let it flow from there."
"You make it sound easy! I've read the entire script, more than once. I've memorized every line Karl has—over 50,000 words worth of monologue. But you think you can just substitute yourself into the character and instantly get it?!"
"Ah, right… I forgot you're not me."
Martin's humility was instinctive, but it only made Robert Downey Jr. grit his teeth harder—with a rising competitive fire in his eyes.
Without another word to Martin, he walked to the corner.
"Action!"
Robert Downey Jr. hunched over, clutching a phone as if listening to something devastating. His body trembled, and he began to weep softly. A wave of despair radiated from him.
Then he hurled the phone violently. His restrained sobs escalated into full-on wailing. His emotions surged from grief to fury as he flailed and struck at anything within reach, like a madman.
When his storm of rage passed, he slumped, drained of emotion, like a soulless husk.
"Cut!" The studio echoed with a satisfied shout.
"Absolutely brilliant! On to the next shot!"
...
Jennifer Lawrence was having a very bad day.
She had only taken a sip of someone else's water at the studio—just a sip—and now she was suffering from explosive diarrhea. Worse, when she dashed to the studio's women's restroom, every single stall was occupied.
She hunched over, knees clamped together, hands covering her backside.
"What do I do?! I can't hold it! Dammit! Get out of there! Damn those bitches, I hope they all get cursed!"
She already knew who was behind this. On the set of Spring Prom Queen, a clique of girls led by Irina had it out for her. Jealous of the speaking role she'd landed, they constantly picked fights and excluded her.
"Damn bitches. Goddamn it."
"Martin?!"
"Which Martin?"
"That Martin?!"
Jennifer froze, panic-stricken. Her nerves went taut, halting her next movement.
Earlier, she'd overheard staff gossip that the production team next door was filming a much-discussed sci-fi movie called District 9—and that Martin, her idol, was in it.
She had even considered sneaking over to catch a glimpse of him.
Now, instinctively, she refused to embarrass herself in front of her idol—even though logically she knew he couldn't possibly know who was in the next stall.
"I heard the crew next door is doing some coming-of-age school drama. Wonder if there are any cute girls?"
"Heh, Robert, you're married."
"Relax, I'm just saying."
"Everything's going smoothly. Should wrap in two months."
In the neighboring restroom, Jennifer's pretty face twisted in agony."Stop chatting and get out already!"
Her legs trembled as she desperately fought off what was clearly going to be a Category 5 storm. The more she resisted, the worse the pressure built.
"Go already! Go!"
Perhaps the gods heard her prayers—The voices vanished.Doors opened. Footsteps retreated.
BOOM! BOOM!
"Damn it!"
Martin glanced down at the tomato sauce stain on his collar and cursed under his breath."Robert, you go ahead. I'll head to the restroom and clean this up."
He turned and walked toward the men's restroom.
Just as he pushed the door open, a loud explosion echoed from inside.
"What the hell? Is someone in there?"
With a raised eyebrow, he walked to the sink, casually scrubbing at the sauce on his collar.His thoughts wandered, amusement gleaming in his eyes.'Whoever that is, their diarrhea is so loud it's shaking the heavens.'
Inside the stall, Jennifer Lawrence had no idea Martin had come back. She was lost in the glorious relief of finally letting go.
When it was all over, she couldn't help sighing aloud:"Ahh… that feels so good…"
Outside, Martin froze mid-motion."…That voice… a woman?"
His curiosity peaked instantly.
Behind him, the stall door creaked open—
And then came a high-pitched scream:
"M-M-M-Martin?!"
Jennifer Lawrence stood petrified, staring at the man before her, who had tilted his head and was now looking straight at her. Handsome. Familiar.
It was Martin.
She desperately wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole.
Her chubby, flushed cheeks turned scarlet.
Come to think of it… that face looked familiar too.
Wasn't this the girl labeled the "Representative Big Sis with No Sense of Balance"—Jennifer Lawrence?
"This is the men's restroom," Martin said calmly.
"I—I know, I know! Sorry! The ladies' room was full!" she stammered.