Anna was three cigarettes deep by the time someone came to see her in the dressing room. Unaccustomed to the taste of tobacco, the nicotine failed to calm the shaking in her hands. Neither was the sight of Elsa standing in the doorway, though the woman's demeanour had softened. Anna had imagined Elsa Sheridan, the ice-queen of Hollywood, to be cold and distant, but there she was - tall and fair, burgundy dress tailored to her curves, blue eyes brimming with wisdom.

"They're keeping the kiss in the final cut," Elsa muttered, looking around the room, piled high with clothing and mirrors, "assuming it gets past the censors."

The revelation took Anna by absolute surprise. She scowled at Elsa, before looking away.

Elsa took in the sight of the younger girl reclining on a folding chair: legs crossed, cigarette dangling from her fingers, red hair unkempt, dressed in a loose fitting blouse and skirt. She looked at Anna's lips, painted over with the lightest touch of lipstick, and her face burned with the memory of the kiss. Her eyes were a brilliant turquoise beneath the lights, freckles showed beneath the light makeup she used. The sight put a familiar mix of longing and apprehension within Elsa's soul.

She looked like someone who'd get you in trouble.

"You're not really from New York, are you?" Elsa asked.

Flicking her head at Elsa, Anna shot back, "I'm from wherever the fuck you're not."

Giggling, Elsa looked at her own immaculate heels, and then at Anna's shoes, upon which the girl had kicked up dirt to appear worn-down. She sighed, "Do you always stay in character between scenes?"

Enraged, Anna leapt from her chair, standing a foot from Elsa. The electric rage in her eyes was plain to see, even amidst the smoke.

"Face it, Veronica," Anna seethed, blowing smoke at Elsa, "we may have the same parents, but we couldn't be any more different."

Elsa's lips curled into a half-grin. Two can play this game.

"You can't expect me to head down the same path after everything that's happened, don't you think?" Elsa explained, before touching her fingertips to Anna's chin, "Besides, don't you know what they say about opposites attracting?"

Anna swatted away Elsa's hand, but the fury in her eyes had melted into confusion. Worse still, the older actress was now gripping Anna's hand like she was a child. Despite Elsa's ice-cold personality, Anna found her touch warm like fresh popcorn, and she hesitated before ripping it from her grasp.

"Only someone as fucked up as you would say something like that," Anna snarled back, wagging a finger at Elsa, "I'm your goddamned sister, for crying out loud!"

Without another word, Anna shoved past Elsa on the way out. She tilted her head back, and smirked at Elsa. The gesture hadn't gone unnoticed.

Elsa flexed her fingers, savouring the touch of Anna's hands.

Looks like I've cracked your shell now.

The sight of Hans standing in the doorway wiped the smirk off Elsa's face. Arms folded, he scowled at her. Elsa swallowed the lump of trepidation that'd eluded her all this while.

"She's a small town girl," Hans growled, "practically moved across the country to get this role."

Elsa shot him a frosty glare, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She sucked in a gasp as Hans strode forward and grabbed her by the dress, so hard she thought the fabric would tear.

Hans gritted his teeth, "It means: don't get any fucking ideas about her."