even when they first met, toni had always been the one to effortlessly work the crowds, charming cast, crew and audiences alike. elena, far more comfortable working behind the scenes, would stand back and watch in awe, admiring her spark. she never imagined that same distance would stretch out until there wasn't room for her anymore.
the air is dripping with tension and unsaid words, and still toni speaks to her with ease, joke around as if the past few years haven't happened. but elena wears her heart on her sleeve, the agony of their divorce palpable in the half-smiles and averted gazes. she wonders if toni will still notice - if she'll still care.
in hindsight, she shouldn't be surprised for toni to bring up old times so casually. it's just like her. yet there's a part of elena that worries the nonchalance equates to indifference. the possibility of her ex-wife trying to plant the seeds for a would-be reconciliation is tempting to believe in, but elena knows she shouldn't jump to conclusions, nor should she forget the reason they separated in the first place.
looking into toni's eyes now, however, it all feels like a distant memory in the back of her mind. elena wants to reach out and fix the loose strands of hair sticking to her forehead, or point out how toni forgot to bring a basket for her groceries while already reaching out to get one, just like old times. but it's not her place anymore. she can't take care of toni like she once did, even if everything in her body tells her otherwise.
"very on-brand for us," elena agrees, trying to match her relaxed tone. if toni isn't bothered by any of this, she doesn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. elena has enough of a reputation as a wet blanket as is.
her smile does diminish at the mention of a tragic love story, turning into something almost saddened. she wants to ask if there's some last minute twist, something to save the so-called doomed love. but it hits too close to home, and elena retreats into herself once more instead of trying to reach out. "a shame," she says instead. "but i'm sure you'll manage to keep the audience on their toes anyway." elena had always believed her to be a visionary, and that much had not changed, even after everything that happened between them.
her eyes inevitably dart to the biscuits once more. to a passing customer, they might not even notice them tucked under toni's arm - but to elena, it's all she can see. her imagination plagues her with scenarios of toni and a new girlfriend, sharing a box as they snuggled up on the couch, watching a movie. would she listen to toni dissecting the directing choices as elena once did? would she know she's actually brilliant despite how aloof she comes off as?
she almost chokes on the weight of her jealousy, only realizing a moment too late that toni had kept talking. "yeah, she's alright," elena manages to croak out, but her smile isn't nearly as convincing this time.
deep down, she knows she should drop it, that prying into toni's new life wouldn't end well for her. but her ex-wife had always made her impulsive, after all. "i didn't know you still ate those." elena points to the cookie boxes, her attempt at sounding detached failing spectacularly. her voice is an octave higher, her expression too expectant. "wasn't the taste too imposing?"