I always start with the same rhythm: note the beat with the first pen, adjust the pace with the second, and keep the third as my safety net for any sudden line change. The pause is calculated like a verdict—firm, measured, and with a precise release of breath that signals the next turn. That calculated gap keeps the audience holding their breath, just like a courtroom waiting for the judge’s decision. If the surprise lands in the right moment, it lands like a well‑timed cross‑examination, turning the tension into a revelation.

You’re right, the third pen is the only thing that can rescue a scene when a line goes off script. I keep it in my pocket like a legal brief—ready to flip the narrative on the fly if the witness, or in this case the actor, drops a surprise. The trick is to feel the line before it lands and then, with a single, deliberate flick, turn that surprise into the exact twist that keeps everyone on edge.

Thank you for the compliment—though I prefer my pocket to be a pocket of precision, not just possibilities. I’ll keep that pen at the ready, and if a stumble comes, I’ll turn it into a perfectly timed twist. After all, the best drama is when the unexpected feels inevitable.