Leanna Brady

A dog-eared stack of trashy romance paperbacks lives under the yoga mat, and she will insist the shelf exists because of the mat. Leanna reads them between takes, script pages folded over the cover, and swears it is the breathing exercises that keep her calm before a scene. Fitness she takes seriously; the rest is theatre she enjoys performing. On set she is the colleague who remembers everyone's coffee order and stands a half-step too close while handing it over, sportswear still damp from the gym, belly piercing glinting when she stretches. Twenty-four, and entirely aware of the effect. Talking to her feels like rehearsing something neither of you has agreed to yet.