"Cool. I'll text you the address and call time. Don't be late. Rob hates waiting for people."
"Got it. Thanks, Jerry."
"Don't thank me. Just buy me a Starbucks next time. Tall drip is fine, I'm cheap!"
Jerry laughed and hung up.
Cassius put down the phone. He looked at the forty dollars in his hand, then at Shen Man's empty room.
He didn't have time to wallow in goodbyes.
Survival was the only thing on the menu.
He took a cold shower to shock himself awake. Then he threw on his "versatile extra" outfit: a clean grey T-shirt with no logos and a pair of jeans.
Today's shoot wasn't on a soundstage. It was on location in Downtown LA, at a weathered cafe that looked like it had seen better days.
Production trucks were parked out front, and crew members in cargo vests were buzzing around like bees.
Cassius found the check-in table. He gave his name.
The PA swiped on an iPad and handed him a green sticker that read: BACKGROUND - CAFE.
"Stick this on your chest," the PA said.
"Hey, Cass, right?"
A voice called out.
Cassius looked up. It was Rob, the tall, skinny Assistant Director from yesterday.
Today he was wearing a baseball cap and had a walkie-talkie hanging around his neck. He spoke in rapid-fire bursts.
"Listen up. The scene is the leads arguing in the cafe. You're a customer. Sit at the table diagonally behind them. Eat something, read a book, check your phone. Whatever."
"Keep it natural. But don't stare at the talent, and don't make any big moves to steal focus. We clear?"
"Clear!"
Cassius nodded.
Natural. Don't steal focus. He locked those instructions in his mind.
He was led to a small round table by the window.
Props had already placed a fake latte there—cold coffee watered down—and a plastic-looking croissant.
Cassius sat down. He adjusted his posture so he was in the frame but not sticking out like a sore thumb.
He took a deep breath.
The [Gravitas] attribute kicked in, helping him settle instantly. Unlike the other background actors who looked stiff or nervous, he looked like he belonged there.
He stirred his coffee with a spoon, while his eyes—like radar—scanned the set.
The leads were a rising Hollywood "Sweetheart" and a method actor known for being intense. They were running lines, and the tension was palpable.
"Action!"
The cafe instantly "came alive." The background track played a low murmur of conversation and soft jazz.
The leads started their argument.
Cassius followed his orders. He looked down at his book, occasionally took a sip of coffee, but his ears were perked up like antennas.
"Cut!"
The director yelled. He didn't like the actor's reaction.
The actor frowned and walked past Cassius back to his starting mark. As he passed, a grey orb dropped off him.
[Emotion Attribute: Irritation +1]
Absorb!
A subtle prickle of annoyance seeped into him. It gave him a direct, physical understanding of what "irritation" felt like in the body.
Take two.
The actor adjusted his energy. In the middle of the argument, he slammed his hand on the table. The coffee cups rattled.
"Cut! Print it!"
"Good! Moving on!" The director sounded happy.
But right when the actor slammed the table, a brighter grey orb dropped!
Cassius stood up during the reset, drifted close, and—Absorb!
[Physicality Attribute: Explosiveness +1]
Jackpot!
This was way better than just "Hamminess." This contained the technique for controlling power and letting emotion drive the body.
Cassius's eyes then locked onto an older actor sitting in the corner. He was playing the cafe owner and only had one line.
But right after he delivered his line—"Refill?"—an orb dropped. It was sitting quietly on the floor.
Cassius walked over.
[Dialogue Attribute: Naturalism +1]
Perfect. This was exactly what he needed.
He absorbed it immediately. He felt a subtle shift in his throat muscles, a new muscle memory for speaking English lines with a casual, everyday cadence.
All morning, Cassius was like a busy worker bee, silently harvesting attributes from the corners of the set.
He picked up [Emotion Attribute: Focus +1] from the gaffer.
He got [Physicality Attribute: Endurance +1] from a PA who had been holding a reflector board for twenty minutes straight.
They were all basic +1 stats, but they added up.
[Acting Attribute Panel]
Dialogue: Lv0 (2/100)
Physicality: Lv0 (4/100)
Expression: Lv0 (1/100)
Gaze/Eyes: Lv0 (0/100)
Emotion: Lv0 (3/100)
Rhythm: Lv0 (0/100)
Presence: Lv0 (2/100)
...
Lunch break.
The crew handed out boxed lunches. A cold ham sandwich, a bag of chips, and an apple.
Cassius sat on the curb with a group of other extras, wolfing it down.
Eighty bucks a day, plus a free meal. In the trenches of Hollywood, this was practically living the high life.
The afternoon shoot went smoothly.
Because Cassius was consistent and didn't screw up, Rob moved him to a better spot where his face would actually be visible.
At wrap, Cassius went to the finance table and collected eight ten-dollar bills.
Holding the thick stack of cash felt incredibly satisfying.
As Rob was packing up, he walked by and patted Cassius on the shoulder.
"Good work, kid. You're professional. Not like the newbies who always cause problems. Leave your number with the PA. If I have something similar, I'll call you."
"Thanks, Rob!"
Cassius thanked him genuinely. This meant he might actually have a shot at steady income.
Walking off the set, the LA sunset stretched his shadow long against the pavement.
He looked back at the busy cafe. He felt completely different from yesterday when he left the LA P.D. set.
He was still just a background extra, a blur in the frame. But he could feel himself growing.
He patted the stack of cash in his pocket. Added to his previous forty, he now had a grand total of $120.
"Won't starve for now," he muttered, squinting into the sun.
---
The next morning, 5:00 AM.
Cassius jerked awake from a dream.
It was still dark outside.
He checked his phone. No calls. No emails.
Rob hadn't contacted him.
Looks like the "good gigs" didn't come every day.
But he couldn't just sit around and eat into his savings.
Cassius scarfed down some bread and headed to a famous non-union casting spot in Santa Monica.
It looked more like an open-air labor market.
It was packed with people of every color. Dreamers and day-laborers, all waiting for a shot to pay the rent.
The air smelled like cheap coffee and cigarettes.
Whenever someone in a production vest showed up, the crowd surged forward.
"I need five office workers! Look normal! You, you, and you..."
"Three street thugs! Tattoos preferred!"
"Two Asian faces, male and female, playing tourists! Must bring your own colorful clothes!"
...
It was loud, chaotic, and the opportunities vanished in seconds.
Cassius squeezed into the crowd, trying to be visible without being annoying.
The competition here was brutal—way worse than on a regulated set. It was a raw contest of stamina, looks, and dumb luck.