Squib

"I don't really have time for this." His chiseled face was perfect, even now as he scowled at her. She would have hated him for it, if hers wasn't just as beautiful, just as strong.

"Well, make time. I'm not going anywhere until I'm done."

He growled, but with the flick of his hand he gestured to the cameraman and walked to the side of the set. He grabbed her forcefully by the wrist and dragged her with him.

"Hey!" she protested, twisting away. "That hurts." Angrily, she slapped him on the chest.

Next thing they knew, they were both covered in dark red liquid. She screamed, and he cried out in surprise.

"The squib!" came a voice from somewhere in the dark. A small man in glasses rushed forward. "Dammit, now we have to redo wardrobe, makeup, and the squib!" He turned his furious four-eyes onto the woman. "You're all the same!" he shouted, mere inches from her face, before stalking off.

Disgusted, she wiped the spittle off her face. Then she looked up at her partner and previous victim. He was suppressing a fierce grin. She shook her head. "Just let it out," she said with a sigh.

And then they were both laughing.