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sshbpodcast · 10 months ago

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Character Spotlight: Guinan

By Ames

Guinan gives The Next Generation the closest thing the show gets to a wizard: just some kind of supernatural being whose unquestioned wisdom gets the heroes out of scrape after scrape but whose true powers are never entirely explained. Oh, and she wears baller hats.

Sure, she may play into that “bartender, here to listen to your problems and guide you on your path” trope (which frankly Deanna should be doing but rarely does), but Guinan is so much more than that. We’re going to get into the good number of moments this week on A Star to Steer Her By, so get ready for your personal epiphany as you read on below and listen to our chatter on the podcast (pull up a stool at 1:02:25). El-Aurians are always listening.

[Images © CBS/Paramount]

Best moments

Whole generations of disposable people Simultaneously one of Picard’s best scenes, the peptalk Guinan gives to Jean-Luc when he’s being thoroughly whooped by Riker’s prosecution in “The Measure of a Man” feels like a turning point in the show. Whoopi Goldberg’s calm presence as a Black woman in a scene about creating androids as slaves imbues their discussion with meaning, weight, and stakes that are both personal and universal.

Every time you feel love it’ll will be different The perpetual sounding board, Guinan helps Wesley parse his feelings at the end of “The Dauphin” in a scene we really give the both of them credit for. Guinan doesn’t speak down to the kid or just tell him everything will be okay while he’s broken hearted after watching Salia leave. She tells it like it is: love is deeply subjective and his feelings are valid.

A warrior’s drink Guinan introducing Worf to prune juice in “Yesterday’s Enterprise” is such a perfect microcosmic scene depicting her character in a lot of ways. She just knows people. Worf is a tough nut to crack, but she reads people in such a way that she figures out just what he’d like in a drink, just as she does later in the episode on a much greater scale…

I look at things, I look at people, and they just don’t feel right …when she figures out the parallel dimension problem at the heart of “Yesterday’s Enterprise.” In that slightly fantastical wizard way she has, Guinan can feel that something is wrong with the timeline when the Enterprise-C shows up out of some rift or other and suddenly her once familiar crewmates are denizens of a warship. And even better, she gets Picard to believe her.

You have to let go of Picard Whenever anyone on the crew needs a little guidance, that seems to come from a really great scene with the ship’s bartender, and who could possibly need it more than Riker at the top of “The Best of Both Worlds, Part 2”? She gives him the confidence he needs to keep going in the absence of Picard, whom she insists she’s super close to for reasons we don’t know yet.

Job opening in the Empath field Another crisis, another peptalk from Guinan. We all know Troi handles losing her empath powers in “The Loss” pretty terribly, but you know who handled it great? This El-Aurian bartender I know who swoops in and reverse psychologizes Troi with such stealth that even if she had all her senses at the time, Deanna wouldn’t have known what hit her!

You saw exactly what you wanted to see in the holodeck It is downright glorious how Guinan puts Geordi in his place in “Galaxy’s Child” when he’s unironically whining about how Leah Brahms is nothing like the hologram he created of her (vom!). “She's probably done the most horrific thing one person can do to another,” she says, “not live up to your expectations,” and I can’t help but stand up and applaud.

I’ve heard some Klingon belly laughs that would curl your hair Guinan’s advice to crewmembers isn’t limited to the human ones! In “Redemption,” she not only schools Worf in holodeck target practice (and left-landed, to boot!), but she also makes him consider what it means to be Klingon, as his experiences are atypical from most of his people. We have no doubt that her chat with him inspired him to get involved in Kurn’s war.

You ain’t never had a friend like me When Guinan sees other officers like La Forge pointedly avoiding Ro Laren, she makes it a point to befriend her in “Ensign Ro.” That in and of itself is very Guinan-like behavior, but it also comes with some of her copyrighted motivational chats when she is able to convince Ro to come clean to Picard about the secret mission she was tasked with for Admiral Kennelly.

I tell you, that razorbeast was a good friend All throughout “Imaginary Friend,” while the other officers not only infantilize Clara Sutter for having an imaginary friend, but they entirely ignore the signs that something isn’t right. Everyone except Guinan. Guinan talks to Clara as an equal, even if she’s a child, and imparts the story of her own imaginary friend: a Tarkassian razor beast, which somehow seems fitting.

We are also lonely Despite being conflicted about Hugh being on board in “I, Borg,” Guinan goes and meets with him and it’s such a cute little scene. You forget that someone as old and wizened as Guinan still has things to learn, and to find some common ground with a Borg was unexpected for her. And she even convinces Picard to see him too, giving us yet another great scene from this great episode.

Why are you still sitting here? Let’s see, is there a single member of the crew Guinan hasn’t peptalked yet… ah right, Dr. Crusher. Now we have a full BINGO card! Our final tete-a-tete from Guinan comes in “Suspicions” when Bev is doubting her decisions to look into Dr. Reyga’s murder and Guinan cheers her on until the good doctor solves the mystery, kills the baddy, and flies in a sun like a badass! Truly so many of our Best Moments from other character spotlights are initiated by Guinan!

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Worst moments

Give yourself permission to be selfish Guinan’s first significant scene in the series is in “The Child,” and of course she’s doing better counseling than Troi. However, your hosts here at SSHB can’t help but cringe because, while the show got rid of Beverly Crusher for a season, it means we were still stuck with Wesley because Guinan convinced him to stay, especially after a season in which we were so annoyed by his character all the time! Guinan, how could you?

You’re a ‘droid and I'm a ‘noid You saw above all the times Guinan helped all the other characters with a little self introspection to find their way through a problem, and the one character whom I’d say she fails with is Data in “The Outrageous Okona.” It’s probably because encouraging Data to consult Joe Pesci on how to do comedy led to the events of my least favorite TNG episode, and it’s all Guinan’s fault!

Tell me more about my eyes While the scene in which Riker flirts with Guinan when Wesley asks for dating advice in “The Dauphin” is hot as hell and inspired a little bit of shipping, we’ve got to admit that it’s not at all helpful to Wesley. Usually Guinan scenes are much more beneficial to the crewmember who is struggling, and in this one, none of this is what Wes asked for. I’m still totally into it though.

Let me introduce you to the Borg We learn in “Q Who?” that the El-Aurians were almost wiped out by Borg… because apparently Guinan and her people never told Starfleet this before? Think about it: she clues Picard in after Q has flung them into the Delta Quadrant about who the Borg are, and it is news to him! Starfleet spends every other interaction with Borg playing catch up because they don’t have any info on them!

That’s what you get, Charlie! You get fork stabbed! Pardon the It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia quote, but I couldn’t help myself. And Guinan seems to me no better than a McPoyle when she stabs the suddenly human Q with a fork in “Déjà Q” and generally mocks him. It just seems petty and violent for a character who is usually so stoic and reserved. So much for the tolerant Alpha Quadrant.

But I know it was an empty death, a death without purpose While Guinan had a lot of instances from our Best Moments list above from “Yesterday’s Enterprise,” we’re still troubled by her nudging Tasha Yar to go sacrifice herself on the Enterprise-C to make up for her waste of a death in “Skin of Evil.” Even if you consider it a better death than a tarpit, then you get freakin’ Sela in “Redemption,” which Guinan somehow blames Picard for when she’s the one who compelled Yar to go!

That was setting number one While some might give credit to Guinan for quelling a riot before it could get out of control when everyone was on edge due to sleep deprivation in “Night Terrors,” I’m not one of them. As I said in “Déjà Q,” violence doesn’t seem the answer for Guinan, and this scene escalated so quickly (partly because the bar scenes in this episode feel like afterthoughts), it makes me wonder how she let things get that bad.

A Yankee in Captain Picard’s Court Oh boy, I’ve got to question some of Guinan’s standards when we see her hanging out with Samuel Clemens in “Time’s Arrow” (and a terribly acted Sam Clemens at that!) after Picard had claimed in “Ensign Ro” that she’s very picky about her friends. Her cohorting with the author led to some of the most obnoxious scenes from The Next Generation that I’ve ever seen.

Our relationship is beyond friendship, beyond family There are several instances of Guinan hinting at her and Picard’s established kinship before we get to the story of the bald man who was kind to her in “Time’s Arrow” and my reaction was… that’s it? We say sometimes that leaving something unexplained is better than giving it a stupid explanation, and oh boy, Picard just sitting with Guinan in a cave once was totally fizzled what had been built up for so long.

Were you this much fun when you were a kid? Some of this is the overall child acting being bad in “Rascals” and Guinan’s child actor had it especially stacked against her since her voice had to get dubbed (resulting in her just sounding super smug all the time), but boy was she insufferable as a child! It was cute for adult Guinan to befriend adult Ro in “Ensign Ro,” but we felt bad that little Laren had to put up with this! Let this girl mope by herself, lady!

Forty to love Though Guinan helps boost Beverly’s confidence in “Suspicions,” she does it by tricking her with this lie about playing tennis that just seemed unnecessary. Guinan always finds ways to converse with people who need it, but this whole tacked-on frame story had some weirdness to it because it forced both Guinan and the episode to be indirect when it really didn’t have to.

Think of me as an echo of the person you know I’ll take every opportunity I get to shit on the Nexus in Generations. It’s just such a confusing device they used to get Picard and Kirk together that really makes no sense if you think about it for more time that it’s actually onscreen, which isn’t a lot. And there’s an echo of Guinan in there, feeding Picard exposition and generally complicating what this place is supposed to be, and I’m just done with it.

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That’s enough from Guinan’s advice column this week! We’ve got a really special DOUBLE spotlight next week, in which Tasha Yar and Ro Laren are going to go head to head for the title of Baddest Bitch on the Enterprise-D. Place your bets now and be sure to come back for that! Also keep coming back for more of our series watch of Enterprise over on SoundCloud or wherever you get your podcasts, order a drink with us over on Facebook and Twitter, and enjoy your prune juice.

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b3loveless · 25 days ago

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Unscripted: Neon Dreams Chapter 2 Initial Ratings & Roommates

As Mi Sha walked back to his seat, it was to be met with loud claps that rippled through the waiting area, accompanied by scattered nods and a few handshakes from nearby contestants. He accepted them with a casual, almost indifferent smile, but his mind was still back on the novel experience of being observed like a specimen by the NPC judges lounging on their baroque chaises looking like very harmonious setpieces on the stage he’d just left. In such a place designed to intimidate and dazzle in equal measure, adorned with gleaming chandeliers and faceless judges, contestants must exercise a strong mental fortitude to remain unshaken.

Once he settled, he noticed the seat to his left had been taken. The young man there had an easy smile, a gentle confidence with all the sharp edges polished in such a way that came from lived experiences. His hair, a dark, glossy blonde tied back in a half ponytail, with loose strands that fell around his face to brush the tops of his shoulders, shadowing a pair of stunning, violet eyes.

“Phoenix Black,” the young man introduced himself, holding out a hand in quiet friendliness. Mi Sha clasped it, his mind already wandering through a set of facts and speculations, as was his habit with each new face. Phoenix was one of those contestants who’d found his way onto the show with pure, raw talent and little else to rely on—no high-powered agency, no family fortune, no network of industry friends. People like him were a microcosm of the showbiz world’s overlooked treasures; they were often talented but unprotected, rich in potential but lacking capital or backing. And as Mi Sha had observed over the years, they could just as easily be disposed of, without extraordinary talent to anchor them or a selling point to catch the producers’ eyes.

“Phoenix Black,” Mi Sha repeated, leaning back in his seat as the name rolled off his tongue, evoking the smoky stage lights of underground venues. “Quite the name. Rolls off the tongue. You’ve performed a lot already, I take it?”

“A few gigs here and there,” Phoenix replied with a light shrug, brushing over the highs and lows that accompanied his career over the years. “Nothing like this, though. Just small stuff, you know, local stages. Makes you wonder if it all adds up to anything.”

“Depends on how you measure,” Mi Sha replied, glancing away as other contestants quietly murmured and shifted around them. The lights of the virtual screens projected their names and stats in faint holograms over their heads. “Three-no” contestants like Phoenix—no storyline, no friendship arc, no dramatic struggle—were common to idol survivor shows but barely received the camera time to become memorable. Contestants like him would get lost among the hundreds of faces on screen, no matter how remarkable they might be off-camera. Just like in movies and stories, a fleshed out character was always more memorable and attractive.

As Mi Sha considered Phoenix’s prospects, a familiar train of thought unraveled: appearance, makeup, camera angles, editing, script, capital, character design, fan service pairings… all these components layered together to construct a glossy image, each contestant becoming an illusion on-screen, a blend of lighting and fiction that the viewers adored, without ever truly knowing the reality of the person beneath. It was precisely this manufactured artifice that filled Mi Sha with equal amounts of distaste and morbid fascination—people of this era took thrill in watching lives twisted into shapes that entertained, uncaring of the truth behind the mask and Mi Sha could not say for certain that he was not as guilty as the rest despite his intent.

Of course, if the unsavory truth behind the mask dared to reveal themselves to the public, well, that was a whole other matter. After all, the whole point of an idol was to present a shiny, bright and beautiful image that could please the audience. Like a fairytale, these young people were dream chasers but also dream weavers themselves.

For Mi Sha, the romanticism of the industry wasn’t in its artifice (though he could admit that sometimes a moderate amount of packaging was needed) but in the subtle chaos that leaked through. Unpredictability, the thrill of real emotion against a script. Those raw moments when the contestants slipped out of their roles, those fractured scenes that revealed more truth than any rehearsed drama could. It was why he had created Starbound Express in the first place, the whimsy to deliver something far greater than a pre-determined show, and to remind both audiences and contestants alike that nothing would go as planned.

“That’s all it takes, right? A chance,” Phoenix said, his gaze never wavering from Mi Sha’s face. Those lovely eyes shone with the quiet but unyielding intensity that belonged to someone who had fought tooth and nail to get where he was. Someone who understood that opportunity was fleeting and must be grabbed with both hands.

“That, and a little more,” Mi Sha replied, giving him a faint smile. “After all, even a gamble needs stakes.” He did not elaborate more as they were all under “surveillance”.

But there was no need as Phoenix returned a knowing nod, understanding the meaning implied behind Mi Sha’s words. Just then, the murmurs in the room grew hushed as the next contestant’s name was called: Renato Leonetti.

Mi Sha glanced over, spotting the young man across the room—Renato, with his artlessly disheveled honey tresses, bronzed skin, and an unmissable seraphic smile. An undeniable “golden boy” with a face that practically glowed with youthful charm, he was the picture-perfect idol who’d easily catch the cameras and captivate audiences, even without trying. And yet, Mi Sha noted, Renato didn’t lean into his charms the way others might. There was a naturalness to him, an unguarded warmth that seemed unscripted.

“He was quite the household name as a child only to disappear from the public for a few years. Until now that is,” Phoenix murmured, crossing his arms and watching as Renato took the stage on the virtual screen.

The virtual feed displayed Renato’s calm, self-assured stance before the Baroness and her equally colorful friends. But in an unexpected twist, instead of delivering a cheerful or light-hearted performance that matched his image, Renato went straight into a darker monologue from one of the best-known historical films. The scene was that of a tortured antagonist, twisted by betrayal, vacillating between hatred, tenderness, rage and sorrow.

The transformation was startling. Renato’s warm, carefree demeanor melted away, replaced by a chilling intensity, a darkness that had been lying in wait beneath his bright exterior. His voice quivered with a raw vulnerability that edged into a madness that resonated through the screen. The pitch and cadence of it perfectly reflected his character's anguished, slightly mad state, emphasizing his strong line delivery skills. Of course, that was not even mentioning the emotive expressions that easily drew the audience in—one could imagine just how captivating he would be when magnified many times over on the big screen.

When he finished, the silence in the waiting area was thick, charged with something close to awe. The Baroness’s gloved hands clapped together slowly, each echo deliberate and approving. That red-painted smile seemed ever more sinister in her pleasure.

Mi Sha raised an eyebrow. “Interesting choice,” he murmured, though his gaze sharpened on Renato, who now returned to the waiting area amidst enthusiastic applause. As the young actor sat back down, he resumed his sunny, approachable persona, the stark contrast only adding to his allure.

“Surprising, isn’t he?” Phoenix remarked, glancing back at Mi Sha. “Didn’t expect that from him. I don't think he'd ever played a villain role before.”

“A clever tactic,” Mi Sha noted. “It not only rebels against previous type-casting but also grabs attention. He knows how to make himself memorable.”

“Guess we’re all trying to be memorable here,” Phoenix replied with a dry chuckle.

Mi Sha nodded but continued to watch Renato. He could already sense the audience’s reaction—the way they’d be captivated by this golden boy with a hidden edge. A fan-favorite, Mi Sha thought. Renato had struck a balance few contestants managed, embodying both light and darkness in a way that was both calculated and genuine. It was an asset, something to set him apart from the more predictable contestants.

But there was something else—a flicker of doubt, a curiosity that lingered. Was the “golden boy” image genuine, or had Renato sculpted it to serve his purposes? The only real certainty was that Renato knew how to play to the crowd. A valuable skill, one Mi Sha respected, though he wondered just how deep the artifice went.

“Do you think he’s genuine?” Mi Sha mused aloud, though it was more a question for himself than for Phoenix.

Phoenix considered it, glancing across the room at Renato. “Hard to say. He’s good at playing the part, but sometimes, the real person slips through in moments like that.”

Mi Sha filed the thought away, intrigued but not wholly convinced. There was something contradictory about Renato, genuine yet almost theatrical, something that could be interpreted as a carefully managed image or not. In many ways, he reminded Mi Sha of himself—a player through and through, someone who could adapt to what the situation demanded while also keeping loyal to his true self.

As the following contestants took their turns on stage, Mi Sha’s thoughts began to drift back to Renato’s performance, then to Phoenix, and finally to the setup of Starbound Express itself. A carnival of illusions, where each contestant fought to stand out under the dazzling spotlight. A high-stakes gamble, where appearance, charisma, sheer talent and will determine who rose and who fell.

But Mi Sha didn’t believe in leaving the journey up to chance. No, it was in the careful unraveling of stories, in knowing which masks to slip or hold on, that he found the challenge. Of course he knew that this wasn’t merely a competition but a stage, each contestant a player moving to their chosen script.

“Here’s to being memorable,” he said softly, his hand drifting habitually to his pocket where his cosmos cube rested, a silent companion amid the extravagance. Its shimmering facets reflected tiny constellations across his palm when he held it under the room’s opulent chandeliers. It might not speak, but Mi Sha knew it was watching him. And then, in a quieter voice, as he watched the contestants on-screen who displayed varying expressions from nervous anticipation to fierce determination, he added, “But sometimes, real magic happens when we go off-script.”

As the last contestant stepped back with his white silk bomber jacket in hand, it signaled the end of the individual evaluations. A collective sigh filled the room from the remaining contestants, followed by an undercurrent of murmurs about the ratings. While the initial ratings were not as important as the official ratings to take place three days from now, it was still fairly helpful in attracting the gazes of the audience in the early episodes. Mi Sha, seated at a back corner, kept his gaze firmly trained on the spot where June Kim had just stood.

June’s distinctive bass voice had snapped Mi Sha out of his autopilot haze. With each beat of his rap, June had pulled him further from his mental drift, as if the words alone had a gravitational pull. Mi Sha’s eyes narrowed slightly as he appraised June from across the room. The boy looked like he’d stepped out of a high-end dollhouse—delicate features framed by a soft cascade of pale pink hair, faintly wavy, giving him a touch of whimsy. Yet, beneath that innocent surface, hid an unexpectedly commanding aura, something that his assistant director had clearly taken note of. Mi Sha filed it away; he could see why she’d chosen him, and why she might place him as an early frontrunner.

Somewhere to his left, someone sighed in admiration and envy, murmuring, “Did you see the control he had? Those lines...he owned the stage.” Many such comments could be heard around him, some genuine, some not. It was understandable as reactions were always a traditional part of idol survival shows. While he disdained malicious editing to gain audience attention in a bid for novelty, nevertheless, that did not mean the production team would not include slip-ups or unflattering sides to the contestants in the episode releases. It was up to the contestants to restrain themselves and prevent this from happening.

Such was the price for living under the spotlight.

The voice of the butleress echoed through the ballroom: “All contestants, please gather at the front of the ballroom to prepare for the next segment.”

A hush fell as everyone made their way to the judges—the Baroness and her illustrious, faceless entourage—and waited for the closing speech from the Baroness. Her crimson gown swept the floor, every inch adorned with sequins that shimmered like the embers of a burning rose. The painted red lips on her porcelain mask was curled as ever in a wicked smile as she “looked” down on the gathered contestants. Standing up, she stood at a towering height of more than two meters. Behind her, her entourage of colorful friends, like a flock of exotic birds—men and women of equally extravagant dress and stature, each carrying some kind of peculiar prop: a white ostrich feather fan, a lorgnette encrusted in rubies, a cane that ended in a crystal orb. They posed gracefully against the chaise lounges they had just been sitting on, a court of flamboyant caricature judges ready to pass judgment.

“Kekeke, our little stars,” the Baroness cooed, unfolding her lace fan with a flourish. Her voice echoed through the ballroom, darkly teasing. “You’ve shown us what you can do, though I can’t say all of you were quite as... memorable as others.”

Her words hung in the air, laced with a promise and a threat. Mi Sha found her cadence, her way of dangling compliments just out of reach like jewels before a magpie, oddly close and dear. It was something he had a habit of doing as a director, if he did say so himself. Which was not surprising, as he did have a hand in the creation of the various NPCs on this show.

The Baroness continued after a theatrical pause. “Our little stars, this evening’s display was merely a taste of what lies ahead. Only the brightest among you will earn a place in the constellation of idols.”

Her words were a strange mix of poetic and chilling, and Mi Sha could feel the weight of her sightless gaze on them. He could almost hear Sloane and the rest of the production team laughing somewhere off-set, already relishing in the tangled web of rivalries being woven like a spider web.

The Baroness snapped her fan shut, having said what she intended. “Now I shall leave the rest to the butleress, so rest well, my stars. Tomorrow, your journey truly begins.” She waved her hand with a flourish, and the ornate doors of the ballroom creaked open to allow the Baroness and her cohort to sweep out in a cloud of silk, gems and perfume, leaving only a lingering, almost tangible sense of intrigue in their wake. It was nearly midnight, and the contestants all seemed to breathe collectively in a single moment of relief and fatigue.

As they filed out, Mi Sha fiddled absentmindedly with the cosmos cube in his hand. It felt warm against his skin, almost like it possessed a heartbeat, pulsing steady and blood-warm. He was here now, no longer behind the scenes but out in the spotlight. If this was its goal, then Mi Sha had to admit—he was enjoying himself.

At the front of the ballroom, the poised butleress took center stage once again. Her steps were measured, her presence no less imposing than the Baroness as she surveyed the contestants with a professional detachment. Mi Sha stood leaning back against a frescoed wall, letting his mind drift slightly. He suspected what might come next—it was all part of the game. Self-selection for roommates was as much a test of alliances and rivalries as it was a practicality.

"Contestants," the butleress’s voice rang out, smooth yet firm, pulling everyone’s attention to her, "it is now time to divide guest suites. Each suite will accommodate four people. Suite groups will be self-selected, though there are a few guidelines."

At that, a slight murmur rose among the contestants, though Mi Sha noted a few pairs of eyes darting toward familiar faces, calculating potential roommate alliances with the intensity of strategists on a battlefield.

"The rules are as follows," the butleress continued, her expression unyielding. "Contestants from the same talent agency may not share a suite. This is non-negotiable, except under special circumstances with prior approval. Furthermore, once suite assignments are set, no unauthorized room changes will be allowed."

That last line seemed to carry a hint of finality that hung heavy in the air. Mi Sha couldn’t help but smile inwardly. A rule like that would definitely keep things interesting. It wasn’t uncommon for alliances to form and dissolve like soap bubbles in these survival shows, and forced proximity had a funny way of either cementing or crumbling new bonds.

"As soon as you’ve chosen your group of four," the butleress instructed, "please proceed to the nearest lady-in-waiting. They will assist with locating your luggage and escorting you to your guest suite."

The room fell silent, but only for a split second. Then the low murmur returned, now much louder, as contestants leaned toward each other, casting side glances, tentative smiles, and subtle nods. It was like the first stirrings of a ballroom dance, with everyone trying to pick the perfect partner before the music started. Ironic, as they were indeed currently standing in a ballroom. Mi Sha glanced around, taking in the lively scene as if he were watching from the other side of a screen.

While for most contestants, pulling a few passing people into a group was relatively easy, few actually chose to make such a hasty decision. Many eyes roved across the crowd, and Mi Sha could see a few contestants with striking appearances or high ratings surrounded by clusters of contestants.

Everyone was busy searching for roommates, so much so that many momentarily forgot the “hummingbirds” darting over their heads and weaving about the room. Clearly recording all the going-ons occurring. He could just imagine that after this segment aired, fan circles for each contestant—still in their formative stages—battling it out online. Various interpretations and analyses springing up, with netizens scrutinizing each frame and dissecting screenshots. This has always been a notorious highlight reel in idol survival show history, an enthusiastically discussed moment that saw high numbers of comments and discussion on the forums. Starbound Express was of course no exception to this cliche but effective audience favorite.

As the saying goes, all for the sake of amusement, of course.

Despite the ripple of anxious energy around him, Mi Sha remained unfazed. He hadn’t come with anyone, so he didn’t have any agency mates to dodge or obligations to fulfill. He leaned back slightly against the wall, nimble fingers dancing over his cosmos cube as he watched the contestants cluster together, some in whispers, others in cheerful, if guarded, exchanges.

From beside him, Phoenix nudged him with an easy grin. “Seems like we’re in the same boat, huh? How about it, Mi Sha—want to be roommates?”

Mi Sha glanced at him, raising a brow. Phoenix’s relaxed demeanor was contagious, and the idea of rooming with someone who seemed unfazed by the competitive atmosphere had its appeal. “I could think of worse company,” Mi Sha replied, matching Phoenix’s grin. “Consider me in.”

As they shook on it, the soft rustle of clothes from the side alerted Mi Sha to someone else’s approach. He turned to see Aimé, face tinged with a faint pink hue, a hand raised to ruffle raven black curls that appeared bluish in the right light, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Um, excuse me,” Aimé stammered, eyes shifting from Mi Sha to Phoenix and back. “I—well, I was wondering if… if I could join you both?”

There was a gentle, almost shy quality to Aimé that contrasted sharply with the confident energy around them, like a delicate flower blooming in the shade of a thunderstorm. Mi Sha studied him for a moment, noting the apprehensive glint in Aimé’s gaze. The boy looked like he expected rejection, though he was doing his best to mask it.

Mi Sha exchanged a quick look with Phoenix, who shrugged, flashing Aimé a friendly smile. “The more, the merrier, right?”

A spark of relief crossed Aimé’s face as he nodded quickly, stepping closer to them. That made three, leaving only one spot left. Mi Sha glanced around, mentally weighing their options. Plenty of contestants seemed to have already settled into groups, and he had no intention of inviting anyone overly volatile. They needed someone who wouldn’t disrupt the flow, yet someone with a touch of personality wouldn’t be unwelcome either.

Just as he was scanning the crowd, a smooth, self-assured voice broke through his thoughts. “Then do you mind if I also join in?”

The words were posed as a question, but the tone had a definite note of certainty, almost as if the speaker had already made the decision for them. Mi Sha turned to see Rozier standing there, one hand extended in greeting, a polite, upper crust smile fixed on his lips. His custom-made diamond encrusted holocom glinted under the chandelier’s light, throwing tiny reflections that sparkled brighter than the actual night stars glinting outside the floor to ceiling windows.

Rozier was the picture of someone entirely at home amid the opulence, his body language relaxed, assured, as though this place had been crafted just for him. Where many contestants had looked awestruck upon setting eyes on the splendor of the Garden of Joy, Rozier looked entirely in his element, taking in his surroundings as if he were the center of this grand performance.

Mi Sha eyed him thoughtfully, taking in Rozier’s calculated nonchalance and the faint edge of coolness in his smile. Though the young man seemed perfectly courteous, those dark gray eyes were like a stormy sky shrouded in dense fog—its intensity barely dulled by the refined frames he wore. Even the polite façade couldn’t conceal the sharpness lurking beneath.

A troublesome fellow, proud and egocentric with a harshness that belies the refined mask he wore.

But Mi Sha was not one to back down from power struggles. As a director, he had met one too many self-absorbed and narcissistic actors but there was never a question of who was the one to call the shots. So including Rozier would only add a layer of intrigue to their suite dynamic, a puzzle piece that might keep things interesting without tipping over into chaos. With a nod, he extended his hand, meeting Rozier’s firm handshake.

“Welcome then,” Mi Sha said, his tone light.

Rozier pushed the gold rimmed spectacles up his nose, inclining his head in a restrained elegance. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

With their quartet assembled, Mi Sha gestured toward the grand foyer where the staff awaited, ready to escort contestants to their guest suites. Phoenix and Aimé followed, with Rozier trailing just behind.

The lady-in-waiting they approached held a list, her gaze efficient as she checked off their names and directed two footmen to retrieve their luggage. They were led up the grand staircase, past tall windows where moonlight spilled over the carpeted floors like silver paint, casting an ethereal glow on the opulent surroundings.

The guest suites were in the east wing of the manor, the long hallway of doors decked in gilded frames and shimmering velvet drapes. The heavy door opened onto a lavish but cozy common area where plush sofas and low tables stood in front of a wide, ornate fireplace. The space was meticulously arranged, each detail crafted with painstaking care, from the polished woodwork to the intricate patterns woven into the rug underfoot. But it had to be noted that the color theme of the room was done up solely in tones of emerald green and ivory.

The lady-in-waiting assigned to their suite curtsied and spoke with impeccable diction that suggested years of service. “Guests, welcome to the Calla Lily Suite. Your luggage will be delivered shortly. In the meantime, feel free to make yourselves comfortable.”

Phoenix, curious, began to explore the suite by opening the two doors on the left, both leading to individual bedrooms furnished with a four poster bed, nightstands and a wardrobe. Aimé also turned the knobs of the three doors on the right, both bedrooms but for the far right room opening to a spacious bathroom that was a swanky mix of modern and vintage complete with gold taps and plush monogrammed towels.

Phoenix whistled lowly, clearly impressed at their new dwelling for the next few months while filming.

Rozier's lips quirked up faintly in a smirk, glancing around with satisfied approval at having his high standards met. “As expected of such a big IP, they certainly didn’t skimp on the luxury here.”

Aimé also relaxed against the circular plush velvet couch that was in the center of the common area, hugging a silk embroidered throw pillow to his chest, both blue and brown orbs shining with his good mood. He waved his hand in a gesture for Mi Sha to join him on the couch like an eager puppy showing off a new toy.

Phoenix glanced around at his new roommates, an amused spark lighting his gaze. “So, since we’re all going to be sharing a living area for the foreseeable future, maybe a round of introductions is in order?”

Rozier took the hint immediately, leaning back as he crossed his legs with a casual elegance. “Rozier Damião, though I think you already knew that.” He offered a slight smirk, his gold rimmed spectacles reflecting the light. “I do some modeling as a hobby. I learned ballroom dancing as a child.”

Phoenix snorted. “Hobby, huh? Well, I'm Phoenix Black, singer-songwriter. I prefer the acoustic guitar.”

Unfazed, Rozier leaned his elbows against the armrest of his chair, fingers lacing in a relaxed manner. “When one looks like me, it would be a shame to not share it with the world.”

“...” Right, a narcissist indeed.

Aimé shifted a bit, seeming to gather his thoughts before speaking. “Aimé Blanchet,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “I, um, I'm still in school, studying contemporary dance and vocal. I have also taken ballet lessons since I was young.”

Mi Sha watched him closely, noting the gentleness with which he spoke but also the glimmer of something deeper, perhaps even ambitious, beneath the surface. There was more to Aimé than the soft spoken exterior he presented, of which Mi Sha was sure.

Phoenix grinned, turning to Mi Sha. “And last but not least...”

Mi Sha shrugged with an easy smile. “Mi Sha, just here for a good time, really. I guess you could say I've dabbled in vocal, dance and drama.”

The words were simple, but he could see the spark of interest in each of their eyes. But before anyone could ask, their luggage had arrived.

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