Huis spotted Amberlee as she was sitting in a lounge chair, with her back to a window showing the expanse of Neptune behind her. He sidled up close to her with his AVP in Producer Mode. In one hand, he held a tumbler with whiskey that sloshed around as he stopped a few feet before the blonde woman. She was leaning back, arms crossed, staring blankly at a component of her AVP only she could presently see.

Realizing she was being filmed for the production, her face turned deadpan. "So, what's next, Huis? You gonna ask two of us to get into a karate match? Or is this just another one of your filler episodes?"

Huis grinned, but the expression had an edge to it. "Lady, I don’t make filler. But if I did, it’d be better than most people’s series finale."

Amberlee slightly rolled her eyes. "Right. You’ll forgive me if I’m not totally convinced. I’ve experienced Instance Replays. It’s just the same shit over and over. Life in my own skin is more than enough for me."

Leaning forward, Huis made his voice sound slightly playful. "Listen here, sweetheart. I ain't askin' you to believe in me. I’m askin' you to believe in the story we're gonna tell together. Big difference."

She raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wow. That almost sounded profound. You been practicing that on your Martinas?"

Unfazed, the Producer chuckled.

"I could practice it a hundred times, and it still wouldn’t hit like it does on you."

She leaned forward, her voice cool but challenging. "How low are you willing to go, Huis? You gonna milk this comet thing until it’s dry? Sacrifice a few souls along the way?"

With his face completely serious, without even a hint of a smile, Huis said, "Baby, I'd crawl through a mile of your shit just to show the audience where it came from."

There was a beat of silence before her lips twitched slightly, forming a smirk.

"Charming."

Huis relaxed and returned her smile.

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"See? You get it. Now, how about you stop sittin' there pretendin' like you’re above it all? I know you're smarter than that."

"Yeah, I'm just overflowing with enthusiasm for your masterpiece. Can’t wait to see how this one turns out. Let me guess—dead bodies, a few shocking confessions, a tearful breakdown, and maybe a random love triangle?"

Huis chuckled. "Sounds like a hit already. You sure you don't wanna help write it?"

Amberlee leaned back again and sighed dramatically. "I’ll leave the garbage to the collectors."

He leaned against a support column and crossed his arm, holding the tumbler glass in one hand near his face.

"You know, the rest of the crew’s starting to play along. But you... you're just sittin’ here like you’re waitin’ for the universe to owe you a favor."

She had taken out a flexipad and began looking down at it. She replied without looking up at him, "Maybe it does. Who's to say?"

Huis put his best smirk on, pushed himself away from the column with his back muscles, and finished off what was left of his whiskey in one quick gulp.

"So, what's it gonna take to get you to join the party, Amberlee? Stop hidin' in the corner and start minglin' with the rest of the cast?"

Amberlee glanced up at him, unamused. "You think I’m here to ‘play’? To sing, dance, and look pretty for your audience?"

She scoffed. "That’s cute."

"I think you know better than that. But the folks out there, they wanna see you do your thing. Make ‘em talk. Make ‘em care. It’s what you’re good at."

Her voice sharpened. "You brought me here for one reason, dude. And it's not to be some attention-starved reality star. I'm not here to play pretend relationships or have petty arguments on cue. I’m here to solve the mystery of the missing comet. The real reason. Not the version you want to turn into a spectacle."

The Producer laughed, not taking her bait. "And here I thought you just didn’t like the spotlight anymore."

"Oh, I don’t mind the spotlight. I mind when people try to use it to make me something I’m not. You seem to forget... I’m a goddamn genius. And I’ll crack this comet mystery wide open, with or without you watching me do it."

"Look, darlin', I don’t doubt your skills. Hell, you're the best at what you do, I reckon. But you know how this works. Solving a mystery ain’t enough on its own. You gotta sell the story. That’s why I brought you in."

"Then maybe it’s time you realize something, Huis. I’m not here to sell a story, I am the story. I’m here to uncover the truth. And if that doesn't fit into your little narrative, tough."

Huis paused, seeming to think for a moment, then nodded satisfactorily. "Alright, genius detective. Do it your way. But don’t forget—every story needs an audience. And you’re one hell of a performer, whether you like it or not."

"Then sit back and watch the show. Just don’t expect me to play well with others if they're stupid."