The phone barely rang twice before Anne Hathaway's voice came through, brimming with unfiltered excitement and a hint of playful whining:
"Leon, you done with your stuff?"
"What're you up to?" Leon's voice cut in.
"What do you think?" Anne sighed, the faint rustle of pages flipping in the background. "Staring at that 'bible' you gave me. Mia's monologue feels… off. Not clumsy enough?"
Leon could practically see her—cross-legged on the carpet, script splayed out, brow slightly furrowed, twirling a strand of hair absentmindedly.
"Getting into a character isn't just about staring into space." He stood, grabbing his car keys. "I'm coming over. One-time masterclass."
A beat of silence, then her voice exploded with glee: "For real? You're coming now?"
Half an hour later, Leon's car pulled up outside Anne's apartment building.
Her place wasn't like Scarlett's, bursting with bold, quirky decor. It was cozy, almost childlike, with plush toys and bright throw pillows scattered everywhere.
The air carried that same sweet, fruity scent that clung to her.
Anne opened the door, her face flushed with excitement.
She wore a loose T-shirt and shorts, barefoot, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun with a few strands falling around her neck—a total girl-next-door vibe.
"Leon!" She grinned, pulling him inside with easy familiarity.
The coffee table was littered with the script for The Princess Diaries, highlighted in neon, surrounded by books like Teen Psychology. She'd clearly been putting in the work.
Leon shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the sofa, and picked up the script for a quick scan. "Where're you stuck?"
"Right here." Anne leaned in, pointing at Mia's monologue where she practices greetings in front of a mirror. "She's supposed to be nervous, stuttering, but with this subtle excitement she doesn't even notice herself. I've tried a few ways—either it's too over-the-top or too flat."
Leon set the script down and looked at her. "You're not her."
Anne blinked. "What?"
"You, Anne Hathaway, are smart, gorgeous. Even in pajamas with no makeup, you'd stand out in a crowd." His tone was blunt, almost harsh. "Mia's not. She's the girl who gets overlooked, mocked even. Her clumsiness is in her bones, not something you can just act out."
Anne's lips parted, his words stinging, but her eyes sharpened with focus.
"Forget your beauty, your confidence." Leon stepped closer, his gaze piercing, like he was peeling away layers. "Picture this: you just tripped, your skirt's muddy, your hair's a bird's nest, and the guy you're crushing on is walking toward you. How do you feel?"
Anne flinched slightly, her eyes flickering, cheeks reddening—not with excitement, but embarrassment.
"That's it," Leon said, catching her subtle shift. "That feeling of wanting to crawl into a hole. Hold onto it. Now, try saying 'Hello…'"
Anne took a breath, her gaze darting away, her voice small and shaky: "H-Hello…?"
"Quieter. More uncertain. You're not greeting—you're testing if they'll laugh at you."
"Hello…?" It was barely a whisper.
"Eyes. Don't look at me. Look at the floor, or your toes."
She did, her shoulders hunching inward, radiating fragile awkwardness.
"Good. Lock that in." Leon's tone softened. "Now, add a tiny bit of… hope."
"What if—just what if—he doesn't totally hate you? What if he thinks you're… kind of cute like this?"
"Not expectation. A fleeting, barely-believable wish. Just a spark."
Anne's eyes glazed for a moment, that embarrassment blending with a faint, almost invisible flicker of light.
Her lips moved, the "Hello" gaining the slightest lilt.
"Cut!" Leon said suddenly.
Anne snapped out of it, exhaling deeply, a sheen of sweat on her forehead.
Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. "Like that? Was that it?"
"Barely passing," Leon said with a half-smirk. "Practice it until it's muscle memory. Until saying that line makes you want to look down automatically."
"Yes, Professor Leon!" Anne nodded eagerly, her gaze brimming with admiration. "You're amazing! How do you know everything?"
Leon didn't answer, just sank onto the sofa.
Anne followed like an excited puppy, plopping down beside him, chattering about other scenes and their nuances.
He answered, his eyes occasionally catching her flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
Her unguarded trust and awe felt different from Scarlett's sharp, challenging dynamic.
A new kind of satisfaction bloomed—quiet, controlling, potent.
It became a routine.
Leon split his time between meeting James Wong at the effects house, overseeing Final Destination's post-production, and Anne's apartment.
Watching raw green-screen footage transform with realistic clouds, exploding plane debris, and eerie death omens filled him with immense pride.
James, a detail freak, would bicker with effects artists over a blood splatter's arc or a shadow's angle, while Leon offered input on atmosphere and audience psychology.
Sometimes, they'd cross paths with actors doing ADR.
Chad Donella, who played Tod, freaked out at his own death scene during voice work, keeping the set lively.
But most of Leon's time was with Anne.
They'd argue over a character's emotional nuance or crack up when Anne mimicked Mia's clumsy stair-fall from the script.
Anne's intuition was sharp—she'd grasp a note instantly, absorbing it so fast that her next take was always more precise.
She'd sink into Mia's world, sometimes slipping into her awkward tone even when talking to Leon, only to laugh at herself in embarrassment.
Watching her shed Claire's fear and fragility from Final Destination and embrace Mia's clumsy, vibrant energy stirred something complex in him.
He was her mentor, her puppet master, and… a hunter relishing the act of shaping her.
Seeing this raw diamond shine under his guidance was, in some ways, more thrilling than Chainsaw's box office triumph.
Late at night, when Anne dozed off on the sofa, script still on her lap, Leon would drape a blanket over her and sit by the window, staring at L.A.'s skyline.
Scarlett would text from her desert shoot, griping about heat and sand.
He'd reply, reminding her to wear sunscreen.
Then his gaze would drift to Anne, sleeping peacefully beside him.
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