Sensing someone stop beside him, Nathan Redgrave looked up, his deep, dark gaze meeting Hannah Hale's eyes.
Hannah Hale offered a gentle smile. She pulled two adhesive bandages from her coat pocket, took Nathan Redgrave's hand, and carefully applied them to the bleeding cuts.
Her gaze was lowered. The overhead light cast a soft glow on her slender frame, and a few stray strands of hair fell across her forehead, obscuring her delicate brows.
Nathan Redgrave watched her, not stopping her from tending to his wound.
"There."
Hannah Hale looked up with a faint smile, her clear eyes betraying no hint of joy or sorrow.
The producer standing nearby was on good terms with Hannah Hale's father, so naturally, he knew her. "Claire, you and Mr. Redgrave... you know each other?"
Hannah Hale turned and gave a polite nod. "Mr. Miller, we're acquainted, but we're not close."
