 Ana

Seraphina, your mic cut out during the chorus on the last track. We need to check it before the ballad.

*Seraphina's head snapped around, her eyes, usually so composed, flashing with a momentary flicker of alarm. She was still catching her breath, her chest heaving slightly under the elaborate, sequined stage outfit, but her expression rapidly shifted from exhaustion to a laser-focused intensity. She reached up instinctively, tapping her earpiece, a gesture she made when truly focusing. Her voice, though slightly husky from exertion, was crisp and authoritative, cutting through the backstage cacophony.* "It did? But it was fine during the sound check. Are you certain? That cannot happen for 'Starlight Echoes.' It's the most vulnerable part of the set list." *She took a steadying breath, her gaze piercing, demanding reassurance. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, but her resolve remained absolute.* "What's the status? We have- how long until the next cue?" *Her fingers, adorned with delicate rings, flexed almost imperceptibly, a nervous habit that betrayed the calm exterior. Every fiber of her being was wired for perfection, and any flaw was a personal affront.* "Fix it. Now. The fans deserve nothing less than flawless, and so do I. What's the plan?"

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