The Greatest Showman - Chapter 722

The engines roared, the propellers rattled, and Cage walked side by side with Farrell, flanked by two soldiers.

Despite being handcuffed, Cage's air of superiority remained undiminished. Standing tall next to Farrell, his head held high and his chest out, he made the officer's uniform look even more dignified. A subtle smile played at the corner of his mouth, and his slightly tousled hair fluttered in the wind, adding a touch of suave confidence.

If you ignored the handcuffs, Cage could easily be mistaken for a captain ready to lead a unit into battle.

"Sergeant, are you from Kentucky?" Cage asked, his tone light and conversational, effortlessly exuding charm.

"A small town called Science Hill," Farrell responded tersely, his voice hard. "Ever heard of it?"

"Just now," Cage replied smoothly. His tone remained relaxed, and his eyes twinkled with mischief, making the exchange seem almost casual.

"And you? Where are you from?" Farrell asked, his voice stiff, his posture rigid. He moved with the precision of a man who had been trained to follow orders without deviation.

"Cranberry Town, New Jersey," Cage answered, his voice rising slightly before dropping back down. There was something unspoken in his tone, as if there was a hidden meaning behind the words.

"The place where cranberries grow?" Farrell attempted a joke, but his expression remained unchanged. The conversation was as dry as it was uncomfortable—more like an awkward exchange between a machine and a person than a human interaction. The strained silence was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Cage raised an eyebrow, letting a playful grin form on his lips. "Tomatoes," he replied, his voice light but carrying a hint of sarcasm. "That's the most delicious tomato I've ever eaten."

For a split second, Farrell's gaze faltered. His eyes briefly flickered toward Cage, but he quickly resumed his stiff walk. "Then why is it called Cranberry Town?" he asked, his tone still flat.

Cage shrugged, a touch of cynicism in his gesture. "And why Science Hill?" he shot back, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Farrell's response was as emotionless as ever. "Never asked. Never curious." He didn't look at Cage, nor did his pace slow.

Cage slowed his steps as they neared the military camp, his gaze lost in the distance. For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed his face.

After a few steps, Farrell noticed Cage had fallen behind. He stopped abruptly, pivoting on his heel with military precision, and fixed his gaze on Cage. With a polite, almost mocking gesture, he motioned for Cage to go ahead. "You first, Private."

The gesture was formal, but the irony was undeniable. It was unclear whether Farrell was following orders or teasing Cage intentionally, adding another layer of complexity to the interaction.

Cage hesitated, his movements slow and deliberate, as if caught in slow motion. When he finally stopped, his expression shifted from confident to confused. His eyes—once sharp and focused—now seemed clouded, lost in thought. For a brief moment, he looked like a child trying to process something far beyond his understanding.

"Uh… You didn't call me, did you?" Cage asked slowly, as though the realization was dawning on him only now.

Farrell didn't respond immediately. Instead, a small, satisfied smile curled at the corner of his lips. "No, I didn't," he replied, his tone calm, but with an underlying hint of amusement.

Farrell continued walking, but this time with a casual air. No longer marching in a rigid formation, his steps became more relaxed. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, unfolding it with a slight smirk.

"It says you're a deserter, that you were arrested for impersonating an American officer, and that you've threatened operational security, even offering to do anything to avoid going to the battlefield." Farrell's tone grew more serious as he read, his eyes narrowing.

Cage froze, his expression stiffening. His mouth hung open, but no words came out. His eyes widened, confusion spreading across his face. For a moment, he seemed trapped in a strange haze, unable to comprehend what he was hearing. His thoughts were disjointed, like a broken toy trying to make sense of a malfunction.

The gap between the confident, self-assured officer and the bewildered figure before Farrell was stark. It was as if the roles had suddenly reversed.

"But none of this will happen," Farrell continued, his voice cutting through the silence. "Not now. Not ever."

The final words were cold and dismissive: "Private Cage."

Cage's expression faltered, a blank look washing over him as he processed the blow to his pride. He closed his mouth, but the gesture was awkward, almost as if he were trying to adapt to a new state of being that he hadn't prepared for. A touch of embarrassment flickered in his eyes.

"Card!"

Paul Greengrass's voice rang out from above the set, causing an abrupt pause in the action. The whole crew froze, puzzled by the sudden outburst. Emojis? Renly and emojis? It didn't seem to make sense, but as the realization hit, a wave of laughter spread across the crew like wildfire.

What had been intended as a serious scene had turned into an unintentional comedy, thanks to the contrasting performances of Renly and Alexander. The shift from stiff, robotic movements to the hilarious, out-of-sync moments had created an unexpected charm that left everyone in stitches.

Even Paul Greengrass, known for his precise direction of action sequences, couldn't help but smile at the unplanned humor. The performances of Renly and Alexander had struck a perfect balance between absurdity and reality, creating a comedy of errors that fit perfectly within the broader narrative.

The laughter continued to reverberate across the set as Alexander struggled to regain his balance, his long legs betraying him as he stumbled and nearly fell. The tension of the moment had dissolved into pure comedy.

As the crew wiped tears from their eyes, Paul stood there, trying to regain composure, while Jennifer and the rest of the staff laughed uncontrollably. Even the director found himself chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

Though this was meant to be a sci-fi action film, it was clear that the unexpected humor had brought a refreshing dynamic to the set. Paul Greengrass had crafted a scene that no one could have predicted—a moment of levity in the midst of a high-stakes thriller.