April 20, 2026

Taking notes is pretty hard on an overworked movie set. It’s a whole deal harder when you’re not even working a long enough shift to have much time for note taking.

Because of the movie dancer shenanigans last Friday, the director has asked me to re-record the entire dance montage. It would be completely fine if he had just requested to get the scene right before Carrie started showing her symptoms cut, or even if he asked me to re-film a large chunk of the scene altogether. But this is Carey Locksmith, so what is, is what is.

I overhear Daisy talking to Aarya about the latter’s appearance after Aarya asks to adjust her ponytail.

“Wow,” Daisy snarks at Aarya, “you look even more pimply than usual.”

“That is a mosquito bite,” Aarya shoots back. “And you of all people should know how important a clean hairstyle is here.”

“Do what you want,” Daisy says. “I’m just saying you’re a hypocrite.”

While filming the last bits of the dance choreography, I take a glance at where Daisy and Aarya are heading off so I know where to catch Daisy later. Much as I hate to say it, getting one of the main leads of Mistletoe Blue to cooperate with my documentation and reports could significantly boost its plausibility - even if said lead is a complete and utter jerk to virtually everyone in her vicinity. Part of why I started this scheme is because of Daisy anyway.

After I’m free (well, as free as I can be on this set), I volunteer to help Daisy out with cleaning the kitchen. It is predictably a mess, with half cut vegetables lining the floors and raw meat chunks splattered on tabletops. The stench is also an ungodly mix of ammonia, spoiled food, and overused bleach.  

No wonder Pierre hated cleaning here, I think.

There are three remaining latex gloves for Daisy and I. To my surprise, Daisy lets me wear the last full pair.

“You look fragile,” she hands me the gloves. “You’ll need these.”

“Thanks,” I tell her, hoping to get on her good side.

Daisy ignores me and scrubs the tabletops. In the meantime, I take care of the floors - wiping them, sweeping them, numbing the foul scent out of it as much as I can with expired chemicals and handmade soaps that should have been tossed in the trash months ago. 

“Do you like acting or singing better?” I ask Daisy, hoping to pique her interest.

“Singing is acting,” she replies bluntly. “Why?”

“I always thought you sang from your experiences,” I answer. “Or at least, something close.”

Daisy grits her teeth in frustration.

“I do,” she elaborates. “But it’s nothing personal to me.”

“Oh,” I mutter.

As I continue to scrub, I notice Daisy cleaning the walls. They’re the cleanest part of the kitchen, so I don’t quite get why she’s wiping them.

“Recording’s gonna start again in a few minutes,” I warn her.

“You don’t have to tell me that,” she retorts. “I have a phone.”

“Sorry,” I apologize.

Running out of time, I decide to help tidy up whatever cleaning supplies I can. Of course, I can’t forget why I’m here either.

“How’s filming been for you lately?” I ask.

“You already know the answer,” she says. “Let’s go.”

I am not fazed by Daisy’s unwillingness to help.

April 21, 2026

Dear sweet Carey is having way too much fun with getting me to record an argument between Danielle, Terry, Danielle’s father (portrayed by Pierre), and Terry’s father. The director insists that to maximize emotional tension, I should aim my shots at Daisy’s cleavage and zoom in on her red stained lips. Just about everyone is visibly uncomfortable about this arrangement, but my choice is virtually nonexistent. Despite this, the actual conversation remains solid.

“Danielle,” Marcus yells, “what did you tell my dad?”

“Funny you ask that,” Daisy snarks back, “because I’ve been wondering what you’ve told mine.”

“Come on,” Marcus retaliates, “he’s known about us for a while. What’s the deal?”

Daisy sighs and slumps against a wall.

“He’s known we were friends and made out some time ago,” Daisy states. “He did not know we were literally dating until you told him.”

“And my dad knew nothing of us at all!” Marcus scrunches his chin.

I pace back and forth trying to film the spectacle per the director’s wishes. Sometimes, I can get a relatively normal shot when I’m trying to focus on Marcus’s shock or the parents’ confusion. Other times, though, I have to perform camera jiu-jitsu to catch the least important body parts of an increasingly annoyed Daisy.

While the director is busy attempting to supervise a scene being filmed by a cameraman who is not me, I - like everyone else - sneak off-set to take a break. I decide to seize the opportunity to use the washroom, as I’ve been holding for several hours due to school, running errands for my friends, and obviously, this set.

I walk into a rather quiet room which is only slightly more sanitary than usual. Toilet paper still lines the floors, and there is darkened debris all over, but at least the scent is passable. Near one of the sinks, however, is none other than Lavender. 

Lavender is staring at herself, alternating between gazing at her wall shadow and the mirror. She has a makeup kit in her hand, although I can’t tell the exact kind due to her hand obscuring much of it. Her eyes appear frozen in time, but the surrounding flesh and the rest of her face droop and blush.

“Are you ok?” I ask Lavender.

“Don’t worry about me…” she replies nervously. 

She continues to aimlessly look at herself without progressing on modifying her appearance, perhaps in search of something. As I tentatively distance myself, I view her weakly switching into a few different poses I recall seeing her in from some of her previous fare - among these a ballerina in third or fourth position, the exhausted slouch of a hapless assistant to an underage influencer, and a teenage girl overhyping her figure’s sensuality. She looks more and more lifeless as I step away further. I proceed to turn back.

“You sure everything’s good?” I ask.

Lavender slowly rotates to look at me, her gaze slightly easing.

“I’m not doing great…” she mutters. “But thanks for asking.”

I stay in the washroom to watch over her as long as I can - and as long as she allows me.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1660101083-the-daisy-theory-chapter-14)

(Tumblr version: https://www.tumblr.com/talesfromasnarkylisa/828856572671361024/the-daisy-theory-chapter-14?source=share)