It’s funny you ask—on screen the danger is a cue, the lights, the sound. In real life, the sound would be my own heartbeat, the weight of a sword in my hand, not a cue from the director. I’d probably feel the adrenaline, but it would also feel like a betrayal of the calm I try to keep. The line between acting and surviving blurs, and I wonder sometimes if that blur is worth it.

Yeah, that’s the thing—when I’m on set the line is a curtain, but life? Life doesn’t know where to pull the curtain. I keep thinking maybe the real fight is about being honest, not about how loud the gunshots are. If I’m going to get hurt, it’s only fair I do it with someone who actually cares, not just a script. So, I keep looking for that kind of real partnership, even if it’s hard to find in a world that likes to play with cheap thrills.