The Greatest Showman #1371 - Back to New York

"I thought you were getting used to it," Renly said, his tone laden with meaning, the unspoken subtext hinting at Chris Evans.

Edith shot Renly a silent glare, her teeth clenched as she spoke slowly, her words deliberate, "Be careful, Mr. Renly-Sebastian-Hall! Is that why every time Chris talks to you, it feels off? God, didn't you two get along just fine until I officially revealed your identity?"

Renly could sense Edith was serious.

The tension between Edith and Chris had been under a constant strain, a silent weight on both of them. Chris tried to play it cool, but the emotional toll was evident, as they fought to maintain their relationship.

Renly, understanding the delicate nature of the situation, refrained from teasing Edith further and instead offered a calm response. "Edith, you should tell Chris that I'm an asshole—always have been, always will be—and that he doesn't need to change because of me. If he doesn't believe it, ask another Chris, and I'm sure he'll get a satisfying answer."

Edith paused for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Haha, I can't believe you actually fell for that!" Her tone had lightened, her earlier frustration dissipating into a joke. "So, what would it be like if two Chrises were in the room at the same time?"

The mischievousness in her words hinted at a playful side that Renly couldn't resist.

Renly chuckled. "Two Chrises? Please, that's childish. What we need are four Chrises. What do you think?"

Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Chris Pine, and Chris Pratt.

These four "Chrises" were Hollywood royalty, all stars in blockbuster films. Three of them were superheroes in the Marvel Universe, while Pine's notable roles included Star Trek and Wonder Woman.

Arthur, intrigued by the conversation, raised a question. "In Hollywood, does the gossip ever end? I mean, can rumors just go on forever?"

Renly and Edith exchanged a glance, a brief smile flashing before both chose to remain silent.

An awkward stillness followed Arthur's question, as the conversation came to an abrupt halt. Arthur quickly realized that Renly and Edith had cleverly turned the tables on him. He gave a sheepish grin. "Edith, you've learned all too well from Renly."

Andre, ever the one for playful jabs, chimed in, "Don't worry, Arthur. You're catching up now. You'll surpass Elf in no time."

The group laughed together, the atmosphere lightened.

...

The sunny weather, the sea, and the warm climate of the Côte d'Azur always drew people in, making it one of Europe's most famous holiday destinations. Even Cannes, though not remarkable in itself, held a unique charm, especially after the film festival, when everyone was reluctant to leave, basking in the tranquil beauty of the region.

But Renly had other plans. As soon as the festival concluded, he couldn't wait to board a plane back to New York, leaving behind the golden sunshine of the Côte d'Azur for the foggy, rainy East Coast.

The holiday was officially over.

After filming Drunken Country Ballads in January, Renly entered a long period of rest. Four months passed in what seemed like the blink of an eye. This break marked the second-longest period of downtime in Renly's career—only the break after War in the Pacific had been longer, but that hiatus had been forced by a lack of opportunities.

Now, Renly felt the pull of his craft again, the time had come to get back to work.

JFK International Airport in New York was alive with energy, more than 500 reporters crowded together. Despite the miserable weather, the enthusiasm of the press remained undimmed. The entire arrivals hall was packed, with passengers lost in the sea of photographers and journalists.

This was Renly's first public appearance in North America since the Oscars, his first official appearance since winning the Olivier Award and just before the Tony Awards.

It also marked his return to the spotlight after winning the Best Actor award at Cannes, with the summer awards season on the horizon.

The past six months had been a whirlwind—performing in Les Miserables, filming Gravity, then Drunken Folk Ballad, followed by a four-month relaxation period. His public exposure had decreased dramatically during that time, but now, with his return, the media frenzy resumed in full force.

Questions came at Renly from all angles, and the anticipation of what he might say was palpable. The reporters were eager to know everything—about his future plans, his thoughts on his award wins, and the possibility of an EGOT.

"Renly, will you be attending the Tony Awards?"

"What do you think of EGOT?"

"Did you ever imagine hitting EGOT so quickly?"

"Are you planning to return to the theater stage?"

"Is it true that Gravity might be entering the Venice competition? Could this lead to a potential Grand Slam of the three major European festivals?"

"What's it like to win the Best Actor award at Cannes? How does it compare to the Olivier Awards?"

"After Cannes, some have said this might be your best shot at a second Oscar. How do you feel about that?"

"What are your expectations for the Tony Awards?"

"Of all the awards you've received so far, which one has been the most meaningful?"

"There are rumors that Steven Spielberg supported you in winning your Cannes award. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

Renly, standing calmly in front of the crowd, dressed in a simple navy sea soul shirt, light blue jeans, a black denim jacket, and a black San Francisco 49ers baseball cap, appeared effortlessly stylish, blending into the chaotic scene without drawing undue attention.

Despite his low-key appearance, the reporters immediately honed in on him, bombarding him with question after question. But Renly, calm and composed, remained silent, making no effort to answer a single inquiry.

Then, suddenly, he stopped, his attention caught by something—or someone—in the crowd.

The entire press pool went quiet, the noise died down, and an uncomfortable tension hung in the air.

Renly, with a trace of curiosity in his expression, asked, "Really? Do tell me more. Perhaps I should take them out to dinner and express my gratitude."

The reporter who had raised the subject now found himself caught off guard, struggling for words. Under Renly's steady gaze, his attempt to continue faltered.

"Uh... actually... it's just... uh, someone mentioned that Steven said you were great and deserved an award, and..."

The words trailed off awkwardly.

If it had been a simple comment, it wouldn't have been a big deal. But the reporter's insinuation—that Renly had won the Best Actor title because of Spielberg's influence—had backfired, leaving the journalist flustered.

Renly, ever composed, asked with a mock sincerity, "Isn't there any other judge who came forward to support me? Maybe next time they're judges, I'll have to compete again." His words dripped with subtle mockery, deflecting the reporter's attack and shifting the focus onto him.

"...No, there's no more news for now," the reporter stammered, his earlier bravado deflated.

Renly shrugged lightly, offering a sheepish expression. "If there's any new information, please keep me posted."

Some of the surrounding reporters chuckled, the tension broken as the mood relaxed.

"Renly, are you ready to get back to shooting now that you're back in New York?"

"Yes," Renly replied simply.