"Here's your meal, girl," said Tarantella, who was unceremoniously feeding a cricket to Nina.

He was back at the studio, his home, already dressed in a slick black satin button-up shirt and pants outfit for bed.

Errol, his constant grin now formed into a disappointed frown, appeared in the doorframe. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot.

"Benton, ve need to talk."

Tarantella whirled around, half startled by Errol and half anxious at the tone of voice he held.

"Sure, Errol, what's up?"

Errol sighed. He didn't like chastising his friend. They'd been pals ever since attending film school in their twenties. They'd been through hell and high water together over the years, but he could see when Benton was in over his head. And he could not let him make the mistake of getting too close to someone, one of his stars at that, too quickly.

"Benton," he began, running his fingers through his curls nervously, "I've known you a very long time. I know how you are, how you can get. Are you sure it's a good idea to fall for your own lead actress? After all, you forbid your own stage crew from dating them..."

Benton stared at Errol with an annoyed expression upon his face.

"What are you talking about?" he asked flatly.

Errol rolled his eyes and a gave a sarcastic chuckle. "Benton, don't play dumb vith me. Everyone's talking about this mädchen and how head over heels you are for her." He paused, crossing his arms once more. "Ve all know how impulsive you are, I'm just trying to look out for you, is all."

Tarantella angrily shut the top to Nina's terrarium, startling the spider, who hid under a small rock.

"It's none of your business, first off," began Benton, whose face was locked in a scowl, "Secondly, Oona is just an interesting woman who I wanted to take to dinner. Just because she's my actress doesn't mean I can't do that, does it?"

Errol was getting angry at this point. "You're missing the point entirely, Benton, you are so impulsive that you are willing to ruin our reputation, our film, for some girl?"

Benton, reacting to Errol's anger with his own, suddenly got close to the German and began to raise his voice.

"Errol, I'm not ruining anything. Much less the reputation we don't have! Oona is a talented woman and she will be fine in the part. Us getting to know each other isn't any of your concern."

Errol laughed and hung his head in his hands. "So you admit that you do like her, then?" He began to collect a coat in his arms, reaching for the door knob to leave. "Benton, you're vay in over your head. You're sacrificing our artistic vision just to find liebe. Your impulsiveness is going to cost us one day, mark my vords."

Benton scoffed. "Where are you going?"

Van Volkheim wearily walked out the door, looking at his friend with disappointment in his eyes.

"I need to clear my head. I'll be back."

And with that, the door shut.

Benton plopped down on his makeshift bed, his eyebrows fixed in an angry expression. Why did Errol care about anything Benton did outside of work?

Still, Benton could admit Errol was right. He WAS impulsive, he WAS in way over his head. He could admit to himself that he was attracted to Oona, but he knew deep in his heart that he was acting too fast on his urges.

Benton was lonely though. He always had been.

He had always been a temperamental individual. He usually was charming, he usually was composed, but anything that angered him would set him off. He kept people at a distance, personally speaking, because of that. Everyone but Errol, who remained a constant friend, almost like a brother.

Benton enjoyed directing because it cleared his head. When he sat in the director's chair, he felt empowered and channeled his moodiness into an effective skill.

He never really got close to anyone that remained with his crew, though. He wasn't even sure about some of their names. His actors came and went, and he realized sometimes he didn't even remember their names, either.

But Oona, the new actress...

Something about her drew Benton in, as bad as he didn't want to admit it.

They only had just met, but even their conversations over the last two days made Benton feel like he had known her forever.

He sighed. What was he thinking? He was just lonely, and he knew that.

Errol always joked he'd find the right woman when he least expected it. Well, he didn't really expect this, but he was expecting different circumstances.

God. She probably would think he was a giant creep if he did ask her out formally, he thought. He was moving way too fast, he knew it, but he couldn't help it.

He DID like her.

Covering himself with a knit blanket his grandmother had made for him, Benton attempted to fall asleep. Thoughts about Oona, and Errol, flooded his mind.

He wanted to explore the possibilities of a potential relationship with his actress, but he also didn't want to let his constant companion down.

Moreso, he didn't want there to be strife between the two of them.

Benton knew Errol held on to grudges. Despite his devil may care attitude, the German was surprisingly calculating, sneaky. Just no one ever saw that sign of him, aside from Benton.

Tarantella moped. He knew in his heart that he wanted to court Oona though, and maybe the risks were worth it.

Hours eventually passed, and Errol never returned.

Benton was wide awake for all of it. He looked at his clock, 4 A.M.

He began to undress out of his bed clothes and slipped into a white button-up shirt and grey cable knit sweater, again, a present from his grandmother. He put on a pair of black trousers and brown oxford shoes, grabbing his trusty pink scarf for good measure. It was night time, but he was afraid of getting recognized by former stars of his, who he was certain were the type to be awake at this ungoldly hour and prowling the bars around the town. He slipped on a pair of black aviator sunglasses, and out the door he went.

Knock Knock.

Oona Sherman could have sworn she heard knocking. She was fairly certain she was dreaming, but the soft knocking continued two or three more times.

Rising from her bed, she realized someone was knocking at the door.

She threw on a pink frilly robe over her nightgown, slipping on a pair of matching slippers to go with it. As she checked through the eye hole of the door, she realized a man was at her door, one that she didn't recognize.

"May I help you?" she called out suspiciously.

A deep voice responded.

"It's me. Benton."

Yawning, she spared no time in unlocking the door. She was tired, but somehow happy to see Benton, even though she was certain she could fall back asleep at any moment.

"Mr. Tarantella? What are you doing here?" started Oona, who corrected herself. "I mean Benton."

The director removed his sunglasses, slipping them into his sweater. "May I?" He gestured to come into her apartment. Oona obliged, excusing herself to her bedroom so she could slip into some less skimpy clothing. Tarantella sat upon a couch in the foyer, ringing his hands together in anxiety.

Oona returned. She was wearing a simple black and white polka dot dress, slippers still upon her feet.

"What brings you here, Benton? Is everything alright?" She extended a cup of tea to him to drink. "You don't look so great."

Benton took the tea and sipped it, nearly spitting it out. It was terrible, but he felt rude to show anything other than gratitude.

"I have a confession to make, Oona," he was wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, "I need to be completely honest with you."

Oona stared. Oh god, what was it?

The director continued. "Errol and I...we're not professional directors, like I've led you to believe."

He put the cup down, patting the seat beside him for Oona to sit.

"We're just amateurs. We've been in film school for ages. It hurts me to say this, but no studio wants to even touch our films."

Oona cocked an eyebrow. "How do you have a crew then, a set? How do you get the funding for that?"

Benton frowned. "The studio who produces our properties takes pity on us. They are bottom of the barrel, the worst of the worst. They give us a very small allowance to pay our crew, Errol and I pay for everything else out of our own pocket."

Oona paused, taking everything in. She breathed a sigh of disappointment, but she should have known everything was too good to be true.

"Do you need money?"

Benton jerked his head towards her, looking a bit annoyed and embarrassed. "No, no, that's not what this is about."

He stood up in front of her, arms crossed, and began to spiel.

"Look, Oona, I'm being truthful with you because my life is in shambles. I know we just met, but I feel like I can tell you anything. Errol's mad at me because I keep promising bigger studios that we can make something work for them. They deny us each time. I'm sad to say that we're at the end of our rope, because we are running out of funding. That's why it's important that this next horror picture makes it big. We need a hit, we need a star, and we need to pay back the debts we owe."

That was a lot to hear in one go, Oona thought. No pressure, right?

Benton continued. "Errol and I are living in the studio. We have no other place to go. Even our crew have homes to go home to, families to spend time with. We've been friends forever, but these past few months living in the warehouse has maybe done irreparable damage to our friendship."

He looked as though he could cry.

"I can't lose Errol, he's all I've got. He's like a brother to me. But now..." He looked at Oona and flashed a weary smile. "I might have found a new hope."

Oona blushed, and wished Benton was wearing those stupid sunglasses so he couldn't see it.

He continued. "Oona, dear, there's something about you, a certain je ne sais quoi, that may be the secret to our success. You're unlike any other actress who's auditioned for us before. You have a great screen presence, my dear, and you're passionate about sticking to the script.

She didn't know how to respond. She just slowly rose to her feet, and did something she knew she shouldn't, but couldn't help.

She put her arms around his chest and hugged him.

She buried her face in his chest, smelling remnants of the cologne that she loved so much. She tightened her embrace, and she could feel Benton's arms wrap around her in response.

"Benton," she whispered, "You don't have to worry about keeping anything from me, okay? I'll try my best, and I can't promise anything, but I want to see you succeed."

The two broke their embrace, still lingering very close to each other.

Benton smiled that cute, weird smile of his.

"Thank you."

They looked deep into each other's eyes. Oona knew she shouldn't kiss him right now, and so did Benton. But the attraction was there, and the proverbial sparks were flying between them.

Benton pulled away, before he couldn't stop himself from kissing her.

Oona grinned. "For the love of God, though, never show up at 4 in the morning to my house, again," she said before deciding to throw in a flirty, teasing comment, "Unless we are living together."

Now it was Benton's time to blush.

"Uh..." was his only response.

They talked a few more minutes about the situation before it was time for Benton to leave.

Oona escorted him to the door. "Hope Errol shows up soon," she said, giggling. "I'm sure he will. He loves you as much as you love him. He's probably just looking out for you."

Benton smiled and took her hands within his again. "Thank you, dearest Oona." Then, he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

Both of them knew the other was bright red, but neither of them mentioned it.

"Goodnight, Benton. I'll see you a little later." was all Oona responded, smiling. She wondered if Benton could sense how hard her heart was beating in her chest.

As Benton returned to the studio, he was greeted by a familiar figure at the door. "Hey..." they both said to the other, as Benton changed from his civilian outfit back to his bed clothing.

Errol was the first to speak. "I'm sorry, Benton. I reacted poorly, but you must understand it's because I'm vorried about you..."

The other man nodded. "I'm sorry too," began Benton, buttoning up his shirt, "I thought about it, and I told Oona everything."

The German man sighed. "Yeah, I figured you might. Vat did she say?"

Benton explained that Oona was shocked, but understanding. That she was willing to help the filmmaking duo in anyway that she could. That she was a sweet woman, one that he was definitely falling for.

Van Volkheim smiled. "Benton, I'm happy for you. I'm happy that you decided to tell the truth. If Miss Sherman is happy vith you, and you are happy vith her, I give you my blessing."

Benton shook his friend's hand, grasping it tightly with brotherly affection. "Thank you."

Errol continued. "I think ve should take the day off from filming tomorrow. Ve can continue next veek. I think you and Miss Sherman should spend the day together."

Tarantella looked surprised. Usually Errol was one to get things done, to continue filming until they were through. "Really?" he asked.

The German nodded. "Of course. Ve all deserve some rest anyway. It's been a frantic few days."

They soon retired to their beds, but not before Benton asked.

"Where did you go, anyway?"

Errol smiled. "I was scouting locations."