The interview setup was smaller than the ballroom, three chairs and a low table with water glasses nobody would touch, a single camera on a tripod instead of the press pen's forest of them. Sam had done enough of these now to know the small setups were the ones that actually mattered. Big rooms wanted a soundbite. Small rooms wanted you to stop moving long enough that the mask slipped.
Daryll walked her through the door with a hand at her elbow, the same steadying gesture he'd used every time since he'd taken her on as a client, a little over a year ago now, back when she'd been trying to convince herself modeling and acting could share the same calendar.
"Ten minutes," he said. "Maybe twelve if she likes you."
"She'll like me. Everyone likes me on camera. It's off camera where I have problems."
Daryll didn't dignify that with an answer, which was its own kind of answer.
