The Greatest Showman #1217 - Imprint of the Times

"Marcus once said that you are someone who likes to ask questions." Renly's response left Kerry stunned, a smile slowly spreading in her eyes. She deliberately adopted a serious expression and asked with mock severity, "So, are you expressing dissatisfaction with me?"

Renly didn't answer right away—he simply shrugged, his silence saying it all.

Kerry narrowed her eyes in disbelief. Renly had actually admitted it so casually! But his response wasn't aggressive, and for a moment, Kerry wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or amused. Her expression turned playful. The man in front of her was truly one-of-a-kind.

"I don't like you," she said bluntly, though the glint in her eyes betrayed her joke.

Renly lowered his chin slightly. "I know, you like Marcus."

Another unexpected answer, and this time, Kerry couldn't hold back. She burst into laughter, nodding, "Yes, I like Marcus. However, you still didn't answer my question."

"I thought you had forgotten," Renly replied with feigned seriousness. He had been using the playful exchange as a distraction, but Kerry was no longer surprised. This was Renly's style. She gave him a pointed look, her eyes fixed on him, waiting for his real answer.

Renly exhaled and finally said, "Rest. I think I deserve a long vacation next." He sighed, his tone almost weary. "I'm tired."

"I'm tired."

The simplicity of the words struck Kerry immediately. They reminded her of LeVern from the scene they had just shot—three simple words, yet they carried a depth of fatigue from the soul, a heaviness that could almost be felt physically.

But there was a key difference: LeVern's exhaustion stemmed from life, while Renly's came from work.

For the past four months, Renly had completed two projects without stopping—constantly moving from one film set to another, seamless and relentless.

Kerry knew nothing of the projects Renly had worked on before, but "Drunken Country Ballads" had made a deep impression on her. Now she understood: Renly's performances blurred the lines between reality and fantasy, and his portrayal of LeVern had made the entire crew feel as though they had stepped into the 1960s. His ability to inhabit his character was far from effortless—it was the result of painstaking work and immense talent.

This wasn't simply a sign that Renly hadn't reached his limit yet, that he was still growing. It was a sign that he was working harder than most could imagine.

Kerry felt a little embarrassed that, when Renly was performing on the West End and Broadway, she hadn't been able to see it in person because she had been filming "The Great Gatsby." She'd missed out, and now, she regretted it.

Renly raised an eyebrow and asked, "What about you?"

Kerry snapped out of her thoughts, smiling. "I thought you didn't like asking questions."

"I'm making sure this isn't a one-sided interview," Renly responded with a grin.

Kerry pursed her lips in playful contemplation. "I can now confirm that you're not a real gentleman," she teased, implying that Renly had been rude when addressing a lady.

Renly simply looked calm, unfazed by her playful accusation.

Kerry couldn't help but smile, a hint of wry amusement crossing her face. "I'm tired, too. I think I'll take a break and head back to the West End stage."

The meaning of the words was different for both of them. Kerry's remark echoed LeVern's sentiment—a longing to rediscover the pure joy of acting, much like Renly had done after the Oscars the previous year.

Their eyes met, both sharing an unspoken understanding, a quiet smile spreading across their faces.

"By the way," Kerry asked, her curiosity piqued, "Will the Almeida Theatre's production release a CD later?"

Renly furrowed his brows, momentarily confused by the question.

Kerry added, "The 'Les Miserables' performance—I missed the show, but I'm hoping for a recording. Please, if there's a plan for it, let me know!"

Her earnest pleading made Renly chuckle, the sound light and genuine.

The bustle around them continued without interruption, yet for Kerry and Renly, it felt as though time had slowed, as though they had entered a world of their own. There was no talk of love or friendship between them, only the shared professional respect of two actors.

Suddenly, Ethan Cohen walked over and interrupted their conversation. "Are you two still resting, or are you ready to move locations and continue shooting today? Any comments or concerns?"

Ethan looked between the two, sensing the shift in energy, noticing the easy camaraderie and subtle connection in their gaze. His expression turned playful. "Wait, are you two sure Jane and LeVern aren't in love with each other?"

Both Renly and Kerry simultaneously replied, "No!" Their responses were so synchronized that it startled Ethan, and both of them burst out laughing.

Renly continued to explain, "They shared moments together, yes. But Jane could never truly love LeVern. What she admired was a quality, a talent he had—something that couldn't be confined to love."

Kerry added, "Exactly. Jim is the man she chooses because he represents the stability she needs for her life. But deep down, what she truly loves is the madness, the freedom, and the splendor of that era."

"Right," Ethan said, raising an eyebrow, "So, she's a...?"

"She's not a 'bitch'," Renly interjected with a laugh, shaking his head. "She's part of a generation of women who are waking up to their independence, who are claiming their rights, their bodies, their choices. She might seem selfish, but it's her right. It's her choice."

Kerry nodded thoughtfully, "I miss that era. Is it possible to go back? To relive that time?"

Renly and Ethan exchanged a knowing glance, both of them chuckling lightly.

"Alright," Ethan said with a grin, "What were you two talking about just now?"

Renly snapped out of his reverie and turned to Kerry. "Yes, there will be a CD. One for the West End version and one for the Broadway version. As for the exact release date, I'm not sure. But maybe you can contact the Almeida Theatre for more details."

Kerry clenched her fist in a silent cheer. "Awesome! But, if you had to choose, which version would you keep?"

Renly pondered for a moment before answering, "The West End. That performance was at its peak the day we recorded it. The Broadway recording... well, I wasn't entirely satisfied with a few scenes."

Kerry snapped her fingers. "Looks like I'll need to get both versions and compare them. And I'm curious—what scenes didn't you like in the Broadway version?"

Renly met her gaze, and their shared understanding was clear without needing words.

Ethan, still confused, asked, "Wait... 'Les Miserables'? Does that have anything to do with our movie?"

Kerry smiled brightly. "The actor from that show is the soul of our film."

Renly raised an eyebrow and feigned sternness. "Are you sure you're not being sarcastic?"

Kerry didn't respond, only offering a teasing smile, her eyes twinkling. The air between them lightened once again, their mutual understanding making the space between them feel effortlessly natural.

Ethan, still lost in the conversation, couldn't resist one last question. "Are you two really sure there's nothing between you? I mean, the chemistry between you two is undeniable."

Renly laughed heartily. "You remind me of Alfonso Cuarón. When filming Gravity, he kept hoping for sparks between Ryan and Alex. Now it's your turn."

Ethan, perplexed, glanced from Renly to Kerry, sensing there was more beneath the surface. Renly didn't elaborate, and after a brief pause, he patted Ethan on the shoulder lightly. "Buddy, you'd better let it go. The relationship between these two characters doesn't evolve that way."

Ethan still had questions, but Renly simply shook his head. "No. These characters already have their own stories."

A pause hung in the air as Ethan processed Renly's words. It took a moment before the full impact of what had been said sank in, and his eyes widened in realization. He glanced from Renly to Kerry, his expression one of awe.