The instructor's face was a portrait of misery—brows drooping, mouth pulled into a trembling line, his whole posture sagging like a kicked dog in the rain.
Nina knew she should've looked away. She knew it the moment her eyes met his.
And just as her Patron predicted, her resolve cracked.
"No. No, no, no. This is not fair."
She muttered, shaking her head.
[You looked. You've lost.]
Her Patron sighed, amused.
"I did not lose."
Nina whispered through clenched teeth.
"You're still here, arguing with me, with that script in your hand."
Nina glanced down and realized she hadn't returned it yet.
The papers felt heavier now, like they carried some sort of fate. She scowled at them, but they didn't magically vanish the way she hoped.
"I have stage fright."
She said again, louder this time, as if repetition could free her.
The instructor perked up slightly.
"Then this is the perfect opportunity to overcome it!"
