The Production Coordinator, a man named Gale Rivers, stood frozen for a heartbeat, his brain struggling to process the visual data. He was a quick-witted man—you had to be to survive in the logistical trenches of a film set—but seeing the Studio Chief himself walking onto their dusty, underdog lot was like seeing a unicorn grazing in a back alley. He didn't waste a second. He spun on his heel and sprinted toward Thomas Gray, nearly tripping over a stack of Sticky rice fritters left by one of the kids.
“Director! Director!” Gale gasped, his face flushed. “Chief Linwood is here! He’s brought Vice Director Hale with him!”
Thomas Gray paused, a censer in one hand and a look of pure confusion on his face. “I thought they left? I thought Ivan Kingsley had them locked in a meeting?”
“They were
