“"It was my fault," he said as a production assistant appeared out of nowhere to hand him a cloth to stem the flow of blood dripping from his nose and an ice pack to keep the swelling down. "I shouldn't have stepped into the blow." Never mind that that was the way they'd gone over it in choreography, oh, a dozen or so times before rehearsing the actual fight. And never mind that Marla Workman knew—or should know by now—that she was supposed to pull her punch before landing an actual blow. "I'm s...orry," Marla repeated, hopping around him like a hyper-active puppy as she followed him to the small sitting area set up in the corner of the sound stage. "It's just that when we practice the adrenaline gets going and I just can't seem to stop." "Yeah, I know," Deck said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. While the producers had instructed him to be tough with the cast during training—they were supposed to be convincing playing battle-hardened soldiers—he knew from previous experience working on the on-set training and consulting side of Malcolm's business that he needed to tread carefully with the talent.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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