The Actors Guild

Spring morning in Los Angeles, the sunlight warm and pleasant, driving away the lingering chill of early spring.

Henry drove with the window down, one arm resting half out of it, lazily soaking in the spring sunshine.

Even though Los Angeles was a bustling big city, traffic was fairly smooth as long as it wasn't rush hour. That was why Henry could drive leisurely on his way to the Screen Actors Guild.

Coffee shops or fast-food breakfast places weren't open this early. If you wanted breakfast at this hour, you had to look for street vendors.

Though Henry had only been in Los Angeles for a little over three months, his sense of smell—sharper than any animal's, thanks to his Kryptonian heritage—combined with his own initiative, had let him memorize most of the good spots to eat and have fun in the city.

Don't underestimate street vendors. Just like the night market snacks back home, occasionally you'd find surprisingly excellent food hidden in those humble stalls.

These old guys, who might not have American citizenship or green cards, sometimes had family recipes from their homeland that made you crave more.

Henry didn't mind supporting their business. As long as it tasted good, that was enough.

As for hygiene... well, let's just say a Kryptonian's stomach was a mysterious thing.

As long as Henry didn't see anything that grossed him out, he could even drink water from the Ganges.

But if he witnessed something inhumane, even if the E. coli count was fine, he'd be throwing up and having diarrhea for days.

It was purely a case of the mind affecting the body.

Of course, any place Henry considered a regular stop definitely wouldn't have anything stomach-turning, and the flavor was guaranteed.

When conditions allowed, he refused to compromise on food—it was the last shred of stubbornness etched into his bones.

Take the spicy Mexican meat roll in his hand, for instance. In this country that didn't favor heat, it stood out like a splash of red in a sea of green.

Henry had thought about recreating the miracle of Sichuan flavor on this soil, but you can't make bricks without straw. Without the right ingredients, even if he had the skill to stir-fry Mapo Tofu into a golden dragon, it wouldn't matter.

Breakfast was three Mexican meat rolls. For a drink, he found a café run by a little old Frenchman, where he could get estate-grade coffee that hadn't yet become trendy. At least it was way better than Starbucks or some of those swill-level chain coffee shops.

Paul's café opened early and had breakfast options too. But since the classic French breakfast only offered croissants and other breads, Henry decisively went with something meaty.

Of course, Henry wasn't about to eat his meat rolls inside Paul's café, even if he was drinking the guy's coffee. Doing something that annoying was best avoided.

So he kept everything in the car, eating breakfast while driving and soaking up the sun.

By the time he reached the Screen Actors Guild, there was still a little while before opening hours. Henry sat in his car, finished his breakfast, and picked up a book of Shakespeare to read.

His super-brain and senses let him read at lightning speed, with no comprehension issues—unless he came across a fundamentally flawed argument.

But literary works sometimes required you to slow down and savor the words, to feel the characters' emotions. That kind of deliberate pace didn't bother Henry.

When speed became second nature, things that forced you to slow down were precious. That was also one reason Henry loved cooking—the process of waiting for food to cook was something his superpowers couldn't speed up.

Just as he was staging a little Shakespeare play in his mind, a sharp knock on the glass interrupted his thoughts.

Since the window was open, the knock came from the windshield. Henry easily saw who it was and smiled. "Ah, Marian, it's you. Morning. Your makeup looks great today—is that Chanel NM's shade?"

"Ha, guess again! It's N12. I searched forever to find a shade that suits me this well," said a middle-aged beauty with faint crow's feet but otherwise impeccably maintained.

Henry grabbed an unopened coffee from the passenger seat and handed it out. "Black coffee from old Paul's. Sweetheart, this'll keep you energized all day."

"Oh, that's wonderful. I really can't function all day without a cup of black coffee in the morning." Taking the cup, the beauty beamed. "Come on. You're here early to check for new job postings, right?"

Getting out of the car, Henry fell into step with Marian. "Yeah. Any new movies greenlit yesterday with casting calls?"

"Sorry, no new postings yesterday. But I heard the big eight film studios have some major projects in the works. You could find a personal agent to help you sniff around."

Marian was a clerk at the Screen Actors Guild, handling registration paperwork and casting notices sent by production companies.

For Henry, who didn't have a personal agent, she was a friendly contact he'd cultivated inside the guild. A coffee every now and then was his payment.

Henry asked again, "Did any production team contact me about the audition tapes I sent before?"

"Sorry, Henry sweetie. If any team wanted to reach you for an audition, I'd let you know right away. If you haven't heard anything, then you haven't," Marian said, making an exaggerated, cheeky face as she unlocked the guild's door.

Following her inside, Henry glanced at the bulletin board in the lobby. It looked exactly the same as yesterday.

It wasn't that Henry didn't trust Marian. He'd gotten to know her because he came to check the board every day, and she'd struck up conversations when she was bored.

Marian habitually tidied up the counter while checking her memo for the day's schedule.

That's when she noticed something surprising. "Hey, Little Henry, don't you have a shoot today? Hanging around the guild—is that okay?"

Glancing at the clock, Henry said lazily, "Today's a street scene shoot, just a few blocks from here. No rush."

This was Henry's first time joining a big production. But really, it was just a B-movie with a budget under ten million, destined straight for the Video Market.

Still, the procedures were much more formal. Background actors like Henry were expected to stay with the crew.

Today's shoot was close by, so he'd parked at the guild to avoid parking hassles.

Even on foot, Henry didn't use his super speed. He just strolled at a normal pace toward the closed-off street.

New book signed. Request for follow-up reads, collections, recommendations—thanks~~