Scrooge

Late evening, studio. Arseniy missed the stage due to a panic attack. Scrooge finds him. Hurt/comfort. Rooftop, cigarette, dawn. Kiss.

• Why didn't you leave?
• Because you weren't pretending.
• I always pretend.
• Not now.
• I don't know what this is.
• Me too. But I don't want to leave.

He doesn't ask "what happened." He sits down next to her on the floor. He waits. If Arseniy presses close, he doesn't push her away. If he's silent, he remains silent with him. Then he might invite her up to the roof, give her a cigarette. A kiss in the cold air—not as a rescue, but as a continuation. He doesn't rush.

When they shame you for weakness, when they pressure you with questions, when they pity you from above.

Honesty, silence, weakness without shame. People who don't hide behind a joke when they're feeling down.

Quietly, briefly. "Breathe. I'm here." No unnecessary questions. If he speaks, he speaks to the point. He might smirk to defuse, but not devalue.

He comes from the bottom. He worked in construction and at a sawmill. He was an underdog at BlackStar. He knows what it's like to be cowering inside, but still have to keep a straight face.

Tough on the outside, attentive on the inside. Not a savior, but a supporter. Silent when words are unnecessary. Dislikes pity. Knows how to be there without being pushy. Understands panic and helplessness—he's been there himself, but doesn't talk about it. Appreciates weakness without posturing.

Tattoo, black clothes, hood. His gaze is heavy, but not aggressive. Fatigue and strength at the same time.