Chapter 2The next day he ended up having lunch with Dylan, though lunch probably wasn’t the word for a break that finally happened around four in the afternoon. They hadn’t been on the same set; Matthew and most of the stunt team had been dressed as mystical acolytes and running through a field of theoretically magical explosions, and doing a lot of jumps and falls and good-natured imitations of each other’s ungraceful landings. He had a few bruises, and his left hip was sore under golden mystic robes, and he knew it’d all look great on camera.
He turned when Dylan came up next to him—craft services was doing a fantastic job, and they’d even managed decent Mexican food in Vancouver—and said, before those big brown eyes could jump in, “How was your morning?” It was his turn to talk, he tho
