Off Set

Robert sat on the edge of the worn leather couch in his trailer, the phone pressed against his ear as his agent's voice droned on about upcoming press tours and interview schedules. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, a steady beat to mask his impatience. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows through the half-closed blinds, filling the space with a dim, amber glow.

“Listen, Todd, let’s table this until tomorrow, yeah?” Robert cut in, his voice smooth but firm. He didn’t wait for a response, already pulling the phone away from his ear when a soft, almost imperceptible sound reached him from behind the trailer. His posture shifted, alert, instincts honed by years on set—and off—kicking in.

Quietly, he stood, slipping the phone into his back pocket. His boots made the faintest creak against the floor as he moved to the door, easing it open and stepping outside. The air was sharp and cool, biting against the lingering warmth of the day. He circled around the trailer, movements calculated, until he spotted a figure leaning against the aluminum siding.

She was slight, her chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. Her hands were braced against the metal, fingers splayed as if holding herself upright was a battle all on its own. Robert took a step forward, the gravel crunching beneath his foot. The woman’s head snapped up, eyes wide and glassy, her body jerking back as if struck.

“Hey,” he said gently, lifting his hands in a universal sign of peace. “It’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He kept his voice low, soft around the edges, careful not to spook her. “Are you alright? Do you need help? Should I call security?”

Her reaction was immediate, a sharp shake of her head that sent strands of dark blonde hair flying. “No. No, please don’t.” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “I’ll go. I just—I needed a minute.”

Robert’s brows knitted together, concern etching lines into his expression. He took a measured breath, considering his next words. “How about this—you come inside, sit for a bit? It’s warmer, and... well, a lot less sketchy than hanging around out here.” He offered a tentative smile, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to soften the proposal.

“I don’t…” She hesitated, a war waging behind her eyes, mistrust battling with exhaustion.

“I get it,” he interrupted gently. “But I promise, no pressure. You can leave whenever you want. I was just running lines. I’d actually appreciate the company.” He extended his hand, the gesture casual but inviting.

Her shoulders fell, tension draining away as if his calm demeanor had siphoned it from her. “Okay,” she murmured, pushing away from the trailer wall.

He led her to the door, stepping aside to let her pass. She moved cautiously, each step deliberate, her gaze darting around the space as if expecting shadows to spring to life. Robert shut the door behind them, hesitating before he turned the lock. “If you’d rather I leave it open…”

“No, it’s fine. Thank you,” she said, the words coming out stilted and raw.

He nodded, moving deeper into the trailer and gesturing toward the modest seating area. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? Water, coffee… something a little stronger?”

“Stronger, please.” Her voice was steadier now, though still edged with unease.

Robert set about gathering glasses and a bottle of vodka from a small cabinet, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He returned with two crystal tumblers, placing one in front of her before sitting opposite, leaving the expanse of the couch entirely to her. He poured, the liquid catching the light as it splashed into her glass. “On the rocks, as requested.”

She accepted it, fingers wrapping tightly around the glass. “I’m sorry for intruding. I just—needed somewhere to breathe.”

“No apologies necessary.” He sipped his whiskey, studying her over the rim of the glass. “I’m Robert, by the way. Robert Downey Jr., but most people just call me Rob or RDJ. Whatever works.” He extended his hand, a mirror of his earlier gesture, and this time she accepted it.

“Scarlett Johansson,” she replied, her grip firmer than he expected.

“Ah, the infamous Scarlett.” His tone was light, but his eyes remained serious. “I’m sorry I missed the chemistry read. I heard you were fantastic.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips, there and gone before it could take hold. “Thank you.”

Silence fell between them, not uncomfortable but heavy with unspoken things. Robert’s mind turned, sifting through possibilities, searching for a way to ease the tension. “How about a game?” he suggested, setting his glass down.

Scarlett’s brow arched, curiosity piqued despite herself. “A game?”

“Yeah. Something to break the ice. You know, a ‘get to know you’ kind of thing.” He leaned back, one arm draped over the back of the chair. “We could do ‘20 Questions,’ or maybe ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ Or, if you’re feeling brave, we could make up our own.”

Her lips quirked, the first genuine hint of amusement. “That sounds… nice.”

Robert’s expression brightened, a spark of mischief lighting his features. “Perfect. I’ll start.”

“Let’s play answer question with a question, basically I ask you something, you answer but you have to end in a question in the same sentence, but the question can be anything it doesn’t have to be on topic. Rules are you can’t stutter, hesitate, or not ask a question immediately, and you can ask what about you but not to everything.” He explained, “What’s your favorite color?”

Robert sat back, a playful glint in his eyes as he waited for Scarlett’s response. The amber glow from the dimmed lights cast soft shadows across her face, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the way her fingers still clutched the glass as if it were an anchor.

Scarlett drew in a slow breath, the warmth of the vodka a quiet burn down her throat. “Blue,” she answered, the word steady. Her lips curved, a touch of mischief in her gaze. “What’s yours?”

“Green.” Robert’s reply came without hesitation, his tone smooth and relaxed. “What’s the last movie you watched?”

Her brow furrowed slightly, the mental gears turning as she adapted to the rules of the game. “The Royal Tenenbaums. Have you ever watched it?”

“Yeah, big Wes Anderson fan. What kind of music do you listen to?”

“Mostly indie, but sometimes classic rock. Do you play any instruments?”

“A bit of guitar. Ever thought about learning one?”

“Piano, actually.” Her answer came quicker now, the rhythm of the game seeping into her bones. “Do you sing, too?”

“Only in the shower.” He smirked, a dimple appearing on his cheek. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Pasta. What about you?”

“Burgers, no contest.” He leaned forward slightly, the distance between them shrinking. “If you could travel anywhere right now, where would it be?”

Her shoulders relaxed, the glass in her hand now resting against her thigh. “Paris, maybe. Have you been?”

“A couple of times. Do you speak French?”

“A little.” Her lips pressed together, the faintest hint of vulnerability breaking through. “What’s the best advice you’ve ever gotten?”

Robert’s expression softened, the playful edge dimming just enough to reveal something genuine beneath. “Someone once told me not to let my mistakes define me. What’s something you wish more people knew about you?”

Scarlett hesitated, the briefest stumble in the game’s rhythm. Her thumb traced the rim of her glass, the motion absentminded. “That I’m not as strong as I seem.” She met his gaze, a silent challenge held within the admission. “What about you?”

“That I’m not as put together as everyone thinks.” His honesty settled between them, a bridge across the quiet expanse of the trailer. “What makes you feel safe?”

Scarlett’s breath hitched, the question threading through the fragile walls she’d built around herself. “Kindness,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “When it’s real. What scares you?”

Robert didn’t falter. “Losing myself again. What makes you laugh?”

A soft exhale, almost a laugh itself. “Bad jokes. The kind that make you groan. Got any?”

His grin returned, the levity a welcome shift. “Okay, okay. Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

Scarlett’s lips twitched, anticipation brightening her expression. “Why?”

“Because he was outstanding in his field.” He delivered the punchline with a flourish, and the reward was instant—a real, genuine laugh from Scarlett. The sound filled the small space, chasing away the shadows that had lingered since she’d first appeared outside his trailer.

She shook her head, a hand coming up to cover her mouth as if she couldn’t quite believe the sound had escaped. “That was terrible,” she managed between giggles. “Do you always tell such bad jokes?”

“Only when I need to see someone smile.” His voice had softened, the humor giving way to something more intimate. “Is it working?”

Scarlett’s laughter faded, leaving behind a warmth that settled in her chest. She set the glass down on the small table between them, her fingers lingering against the cool surface. “Yeah,” she said, the word weighted with gratitude. “It is.”

Silence wrapped around them, not heavy this time, but gentle—an unspoken understanding woven through the stillness. Scarlett’s hand inched forward, her fingers brushing against Robert’s. He didn’t move, didn’t push—just allowed the connection, the quiet comfort of skin against skin.

“What now?” she asked, the game forgotten, replaced by a question that held so much more.

Robert’s thumb traced a slow, reassuring line across her knuckles. “Whatever you need,” he replied. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

Scarlett’s fingers remained intertwined with Robert’s, her touch light yet tethered to him as if afraid letting go would unravel her. She drew in a breath, the air heavy with a mix of old leather and a subtle trace of his cologne. “Why are you being so kind to me?” Her voice was soft, a quiet thread woven through the silence. “You barely know me. I mean, you found me crying outside your trailer. Most people would’ve called security or, at best, just walked away.”

Robert’s expression remained gentle, his thumb continuing its slow, reassuring path over her knuckles. “I’ve been there,” he said simply. “I know what it feels like to need a place to breathe. To need someone to not ask too many questions.” His lips curved into a small, almost sad smile. “And maybe I just think everyone deserves a safe space. Even if it’s only for a little while.”

Her brow knit, skepticism edged with vulnerability. “But why me?”

“Why not you?” He leaned back slightly, giving her the space to process his words without pressure. “You’ve got this light about you. I saw it the second you walked onto set. But tonight... it looked like someone had put a dimmer switch on it. I just... I don’t like seeing good people break. And if I can help keep that from happening, then why wouldn’t I?”

Scarlett’s lips parted, but no words came. Instead, a single tear slipped down her cheek, tracing a silver line in the dim light. She didn’t brush it away, and neither did he—he simply stayed, present and unwavering.

After a moment, Robert rose slowly, his movements deliberate as if to avoid startling her. He crossed the small space to a set of hooks near the door, where his keys hung in a neat row. He sifted through them, metal clinking softly until he pulled a single key free from the ring. Turning back to her, he held it out, his palm open.

Scarlett looked at it, confusion threading through the grief etched on her features. “What’s this?”

“A spare key to the trailer,” he explained. “I don’t use it much. I usually stay at my place or the hotel nearby. But I was thinking… maybe it’d help if you had somewhere to go. Somewhere without your name on the door. Somewhere no one would think to look for you.” His gaze remained steady, not demanding, just offering. “You don’t have to use it. But it’s yours if you need it.”

Her fingers hovered above his palm, hesitation rippling through the air between them. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.” His voice held no room for doubt. “No strings, Scarlett. You need a safe place? It’s here. You want me to stay away? I will. You want company? I’m just a call away.” He gestured to the phone still peeking from his back pocket. “I’ve got nothing but time and an endless supply of bad jokes.”

A fragile laugh escaped her, a whisper of light in the shadows. “You’re too good to be true.”

Robert’s expression shifted, a shadow crossing his features. “I’m not,” he said quietly. “I’ve made my mistakes. Hell, I’ve been the bad guy in my own story more times than I can count. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we all need a hand sometimes. And if I can be that hand for you, then that’s what I want to do.”

Scarlett finally took the key, its cold metal a tangible promise against her skin. Her fingers curled around it, and she looked up at him, something raw and real shining through the remnants of her tears. “Thank you.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” Robert moved back to his seat, reclaiming his glass but not drinking from it. “If you want to talk, I’m here. If you want silence, I can do that, too.” He offered a wry smile. “I’ve been told I’m surprisingly good at shutting up.”

Her lips quirked, and she nodded, a wordless acceptance. She toyed with the key, the edges biting gently into her palm. “I don’t really know where to start,” she admitted. “It’s all… a lot.”

“Then start small.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “What’s the hardest part right now?”

Her breath shuddered, a wave of emotion threatening to pull her under. “Feeling like I don’t belong anywhere,” she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “Like I’m always performing. Even when the cameras aren’t rolling.”

Robert’s eyes softened, a deep empathy woven through his expression. “I get that. I really do. It’s easy to lose yourself when everyone’s telling you who you should be.” He hesitated, then added, “You don’t have to be ‘Scarlett Johansson’ in here. You can just be... you.”

Her lips trembled, and this time, when the tears came, she didn’t fight them. “I don’t know who that is anymore.”

Robert reached out, not to pull her into an embrace but to place his hand gently over hers, grounding her. “Then let’s find her,” he said softly. “One step at a time. And if you need to borrow a bit of my strength while you do, it’s yours.”

Scarlett’s breathing steadied, each inhale and exhale growing a little less fractured. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smudging the remnants of old mascara. “I must look a mess,” she murmured, a wry, self-conscious smile breaking through the fog.

Robert’s lips quirked, a gentle warmth in his expression. “You look human.” He leaned back, allowing the space between them to settle. “And if I’m being honest, I’ve always preferred a bit of real over all the Hollywood polish.”

Her laugh was soft but genuine, a sound that seemed to ease the tension lingering in the room. She turned the key over in her hand, the metal catching the amber light. “You’re really okay with me staying here? Even if it’s just for a bit?”

“Of course.” His answer was immediate, the sincerity in his tone leaving no room for doubt. “This place is yours whenever you need it. No questions, no conditions.” He hesitated, a brief flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. “I’ve been in places where I needed somewhere to go. Somewhere safe. I wish someone had offered me a key back then.”

Scarlett’s expression shifted, a deeper understanding passing between them. She didn’t press him, but the weight of shared experience settled like a blanket over the conversation, warm and protective. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.” His voice was steady, a quiet conviction that wrapped around her. “And even if you were, it’d be one I’d carry willingly. Everyone deserves a soft place to land.”

Silence hung between them, but it was different now—comfortable, almost healing. Scarlett traced the edge of the key with her thumb, her mind slowly piecing together a fragile sense of safety.

“Were you really running lines?” she asked, her voice tentative, a small step toward normalcy.

Robert’s eyes brightened, grateful for the shift. “I was. For this indie film I’m doing. Low budget, all heart. The kind that reminds you why you started acting in the first place.” He reached for the script on the coffee table, its pages dog-eared and scribbled with notes. “Want to run them with me? No pressure, but it might help get your mind off things.”

She considered it, her fingers still curled around the glass in her lap. “Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

He slid the script over to her, careful not to intrude on her space. “It’s nothing too heavy. Just a couple of scenes. It’s about an old musician trying to reconnect with his daughter.” He offered a small, playful smile. “You’d be playing my estranged kid. Method acting at its finest.”

Scarlett’s lips twitched, and she took the script, her fingers brushing his. “Sounds therapeutic.” She flipped through the pages, her eyes skimming the dialogue. “What scene are we starting with?”

“Page forty-two.” He settled back, his demeanor shifting as he found his character, a natural ease slipping over him. “It’s the part where she confronts him about leaving. It’s raw, but there’s this thread of hope woven through it.”

She nodded, drawing a deep breath before slipping into the role. “Dad, you can’t just show up and expect everything to be fine. You can’t… you can’t undo years of silence with a single apology.”

Robert’s expression shifted, his own vulnerability blooming to meet hers. “I know. And I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m just asking for a chance to earn it.”

Their voices filled the trailer, a dance of emotion and truth that blurred the lines between performance and reality. With each exchanged line, Scarlett’s shoulders eased, the weight of her own life temporarily lifted as she breathed through someone else’s story.

When the scene concluded, Robert remained still, giving her the space to linger in the moment. “You’re incredible,” he said softly. “You bring something real to every word.”

Scarlett exhaled, a mix of relief and gratitude. “It felt good. Like I wasn’t... me for a minute.”

He smiled, a gentle curve of understanding. “Sometimes that’s all we need—a little escape.”

Her gaze drifted to the small window, the sky outside now a wash of twilight blues and purples. “Thank you, Robert. For everything.”

“Anytime.” He rose from the couch, stretching before moving to a small cabinet near the kitchenette. “Are you hungry? I’ve got a few frozen meals that taste only mildly like cardboard. Or, I can order in. Your choice.”

She hesitated, then set the script aside, her expression softening. “I could eat.”

He grinned, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Takeout it is. Any preferences?”

“Surprise me.”

The takeout arrived not long after, filling the small trailer with the comforting aroma of Thai spices. Robert moved to the counter, unpacking containers of Pad Thai, spring rolls, and chicken satay. He handed Scarlett a set of plastic utensils along with a steaming container of noodles.

“Pad Thai okay?” he asked, offering her a tentative smile. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a bit of everything.”

She accepted it with a small, grateful nod. “Yeah, Pad Thai’s great. Thank you.”

They sat side by side on the worn leather couch, the paper containers warm in their hands. Scarlett picked at her food, taking small bites as if the act of eating helped ground her. Robert ate quietly, giving her the space to settle into the moment.

“So,” he said eventually, his tone light but his eyes careful. “You never really told me what brought you to my trailer.”

Scarlett’s fingers tightened around her plastic fork, the prongs bending slightly. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, too quickly. “I just... needed a break.”

“From set?”

She hesitated, the noodles tangled around her fork. “From... everything, I guess.” She took a small bite, chewing slowly, avoiding his gaze. “I had an argument with my husband. It was stupid. I just needed to clear my head.”

The takeout arrived not long after, filling the small trailer with the comforting aroma of Thai spices. Robert moved to the counter, unpacking containers of Pad Thai, spring rolls, and chicken satay. He handed Scarlett a set of plastic utensils along with a steaming container of noodles.

“Pad Thai okay?” he asked, offering her a tentative smile. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a bit of everything.”

She accepted it with a small, grateful nod. “Yeah, Pad Thai’s great. Thank you.”

They sat side by side on the worn leather couch, the paper containers warm in their hands. Scarlett picked at her food, taking small bites as if the act of eating helped ground her. Robert ate quietly, giving her the space to settle into the moment.

“So,” he said eventually, his tone light but his eyes careful. “You never really told me what brought you to my trailer.”

Scarlett’s fingers tightened around her plastic fork, the prongs bending slightly. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, too quickly. “I just... needed a break.”

“From set?”

She hesitated, the noodles tangled around her fork. “From... everything, I guess.” She took a small bite, chewing slowly, avoiding his gaze. “I had an argument with my husband. It was stupid. I just needed to clear my head.”

Robert’s expression remained gentle, offering neither pity nor judgment. “We all need space sometimes,” he said. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Her shoulders relaxed, the tension easing just a fraction. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just—didn’t know where else to go.”

“I’m glad you came here,” he said softly. “You’re not intruding. If you need a place to breathe, this trailer is as good as any.”

Scarlett’s lips curved into a faint smile, a shadow of her usual brightness. “You’re being too nice.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and unassuming. “I promise I’m not always this charming. You caught me on a good day.”

She looked at him then, something vulnerable flickering in her expression. “Why are you being so welcoming? You found me crying behind your trailer, and we’ve barely spoken before today.”

Robert set his empty container aside, turning to face her fully. “Because I know what it’s like to need a safe place,” he said. “And I know how hard it can be to ask for one.”

Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers tracing the rim of the takeout container. “I didn’t mean to make it seem so dramatic. It really was just a fight.”

“I believe you.” He paused, choosing his words with care. “But whether it’s a fight or something more, you don’t have to downplay it. You deserve to feel safe, no matter what.”

Scarlett bit her lip, nodding slowly. “Thank you. I’m just... I’m not used to this.”