Lead character in Party/Salsa Scene Ethnicity: Latin American Languages: Spanish / Portuguese accent acceptable Description: Charismatic but quietly intense. Starts as one of a loud group, then becomes visually softened and single-minded when he spots the Girl in the Beautiful Dress. Needs to read love-at-first-sight over three beats (look, approach, near-touch). Skills: Natural salsa rhythm and casual club movement (not pro). Strong eye-acting and micro-expressions.

Lead character in Party/Salsa Scene Ethnicity: Latin American Languages: Spanish / Portuguese background is a bonus. Description: Elegant, slightly enigmatic. She holds herself with quiet poise; her small facial shifts must carry the scene. Not a dancer star — but very present. Skills: Comfort with slow, cinematic movement/dancing. Able to “act” with stillness - express curiosity, surprise, warm politeness without words.

Lead character in Film Crew Scene Ethnicity: Latin American Languages: English with one line in Spanish Description: Confident, no-nonsense, authentic film-set presence; should look like an experienced director (wardrobe, mannerisms). Skills: Clear, authoritative vocal delivery; comfortable doing one Spanish line.

Lead character in Podcast Scene Ethnicity: Latin American Languages: English + Portuguese phrase (“não posso”) — must be able to pronounce comfortably. Description: Warm, energetic, opinionated about soccer; natural host energy. Comfortable conversationally, able to banter and improvise. Skills: Bilingual switch (English <> Portuguese phrase) Natural comedic/timing sense; strong mic discipline. Should feel authentic as a bilingual Latin sports podcaster.

Lead character in Podcast Scene Ethnicity: Latin American Languages: English + Spanish slang line (“Papi el niño moi…”) — must sound natural. Description: Relaxed, humorous, a foil to Host 1. Quick to banter, warm reactions, outgoing. Natural chemistry with co-host, ability to deliver Spanish slang fluidly.

Lead character in Videogame Scene Salsa Fighter Ethnicity: Afro-Latin / Latin American preferred Description: Salsa-influenced fighter: rhythmic, swaggering, mixed with salsa moves. 70s style wardrobe and facial flair. Skills: Salsa dancing (good level) + playful combat choreography

Lead character in Videogame Scene Luchador Ethnicity: Latin American Description: Colorful, exaggerated luchador persona with comic timing- big gestures, larger body language. Visual presence is key. Skills: Physical acting, exaggerated movement, basic stage combat/stunts. Extra Large build preferred; Martial Arts experience requested. Mask performance requires strong body language and safe stunt practice.

Actor con buen timing cómico. Facilitador del grupo de sensibilización. Irónico, directo y con humor negro. Fue un acosador obsesivo en el pasado, ahora reconvertido en “gurú” práctico y desmitificador del amor romántico. Ideal para un actor con presencia fuerte, timing ácido y carisma contenido.

Actriz con buen timing cómico. Guapa. Abogada exitosa, inteligente y verbalmente afilada. Controlada en apariencia, emocionalmente explosiva por dentro. Ideal para una actriz con fuerza, ritmo rápido y capacidad de comedia mordaz.

Actor con buen timing cómico. Con ligero sobrepeso. Ingenuo, obsesivo y emocionalmente infantil. Vive convencido de que el amor verdadero lo espera, aunque la realidad diga lo contrario. Ideal para un actor con gran corazón, torpeza encantadora y comedia desde la ternura.

Actriz con buen timing cómico. Casera metiche, parlanchina y aparentemente inofensiva. Romántica empedernida, confía demasiado en las buenas intenciones masculinas. Su amabilidad mal calculada detona el desastre para el protagonista. Ideal para una actriz con carisma popular y gran instinto cómico.

Figura de autoridad seca, irónica y sin paciencia. Escucha los hechos sin interés emocional y corta cualquier intento de justificación romántica. Representa la realidad legal frente al caos sentimental. Ideal para un actor sobrio, contundente y con presencia institucional.

**PLEASE DO NOT SUBMIT AGAIN IF ALREADY HAVE SELF-TAPED FOR THIS ROLE/PROJECT Caucasian/Female. (15) Tone: Spoiled, emotional, reactive, not malicious but immature. Raised in comfort and unaware of her father’s sacrifices, Sophia sees Julian as the provider she never felt Nathan was. She speaks before thinking, often hurting Nathan without understanding the damage. A near-tragedy forces her to confront how deeply she relied on her father’s invisible care. Performance notes: Strong emotional swings—brattiness, entitlement, vulnerability, and eventual self-awareness.

(Female, Late 20s–30s) (ANY ETHNICITY – wheelchair user preferred) Poised, sharp, and quietly unyielding. Maddie has spent years navigating a world that treats her presence as an inconvenience. She arrives at the restaurant simply wanting lunch—but when she’s subtly pushed aside and openly discriminated against, she refuses to disappear quietly. She fights not with shouting, but with composure, intelligence, and devastating calm. Across the series, Maddie evolves from patient diner to someone who allows the camera—and the world—to witness what usually happens in silence. Wardrobe: Clean, casual-chic daywear. Polished but comfortable. One subtle statement piece (bold lip, jewelry, etc.) that hints at her inner fire. Screen Time: Full (central POV) Performance Arc: Polite guest ? targeted by micro-aggressions ? victim of blatant discrimination ? strategic decision to let the moment go public ? emotionally tired, but respected and empowered. Special Skills: Comfort performing in a manual wheelchair. Priority given to actors with lived disability experience. Must handle tight blocking and extreme close-ups naturally.

(Female, Late 20s–30s, Any Ethnicity) Icy, polished, and image-obsessed, Lauren believes “high-end” means “highly exclusive.” She equates worth with money, clothes, and optics, and she’s terrified of the restaurant failing. She thinks “protecting the brand” justifies everything—from ignoring Maddie at the door to calling disabled guests “bad for the vibe.” Across the series, she unravels from composed gatekeeper to someone watching her own cruelty go viral. Wardrobe: Razor-sharp FOH look—sleek blazer, fitted blouse or shell, tailored pants or pencil skirt, heels or polished flats. Hair neatly styled, makeup precise, on-trend jewelry. Reads as “aspirational manager” who thinks her appearance proves she’s right. Screen Time: Heavy Performance Arc: Starts as a calm, slightly condescending professional hiding behind “policy” ? escalates into open micro-aggressions and slurs once she feels cornered ? tries to physically push Maddie out, insisting she’s “protecting the experience” ? panics as she realizes the teen has the whole thing on video and that Serena is DISHIN ? ends exposed, fired, and staring at a DM with the full unedited clip, understanding nothing will disappear. Key Scene Moments: Ignoring Maddie at the stand; the first eye-roll and fake “we’re fully booked.” Weaponizing “standards” and “aesthetic” in code words that turn explicit. Under-her-breath line about “people like you” and “welfare cases” that the camera catches. Grabbing the wheelchair handles and being called out in front of the room. Realization beat when she Googles Maddie and realizes she targeted someone with a platform. Required Range: Needs to embody entitlement and fear in a way that feels real, not cartoonish. Strong command of tiny beats: the glance to see who’s watching, the moment she realizes she’s on video, the shift from confidence to scrambling. Must be able to flip between “guest voice” and private venom in a single breath. Comfortable playing unlikeable without winking at the audience. Special Skills: Comfort working in close proximity to a wheelchair performer (with care and consent), including placing hands on handles as scripted. Must be precise with overlapping dialogue and subtle shifts for tight vertical shots.

(Female, Late 20s–30s, Any Ethnicity) Lana is a survivor who did the unthinkable to protect her child: she left him in the system to get them both away from an abusive partner, then spent years rebuilding her life so she could safely bring him home. She carries guilt and stigma, but underneath is steel. She doesn’t scream; she explains, even when her voice shakes. Her love is steady, humble, and fiercely protective. Wardrobe: Thrifted-but-clean clothes—simple blouse or T-shirt, cardigan or light jacket, jeans or work pants. Could read as someone who works retail, service, or entry-level professional. Nothing flashy, but intentional. Screen Time: Moderate–Heavy Performance Arc: Begins watching from across the restaurant, too scared to approach ? steps in when she hears Jenna rewrite the story of “abandonment” ? calmly lays out why she left and how long she’s been fighting to come back ? intentionally steps back during the choice, refusing to guilt Owen ? ends holding her son as he chooses her, promising a life where he’s never a paycheck again. Key Scene Moments: Sitting alone with her phone, staring at old photos and the caseworker’s text. Saying Owen’s name and freezing when he finally recognizes her. Explaining the abuse and escape in a few, raw lines. “You don’t owe me anything…I’ll love you no matter what you decide.” Final walkout and stinger booth scene, where she quietly watches Owen take his first bite of cake that’s truly his. Required Range: Grounded, emotional, and controlled. Needs to convey years of regret and love in very few words—often through eyes and breath rather than big speeches. Must be able to cry or sit on the edge of tears without losing clarity. Strong listening partner for the child actor and Miss Jenna, anchoring the story’s emotional truth. Special Skills: Comfort playing emotionally heavy scenes opposite a child; able to sustain prolonged hugs and physical closeness on camera.

(Female, 30s–40s, Any Ethnicity) Miss Jenna treats foster care like a side hustle and Owen like an account balance. She can flip from sugary, Instagram-mom sweetness with her bio daughter to ice-cold contempt for Owen in a single breath. She’s obsessed with appearances—her nails, her clothes, her “good mom” image—and terrified of losing the foster checks that pad her life. Underneath the polish is raw entitlement and desperation. Wardrobe: Try-hard “put together”—trendy blouse, fitted jeans or skirt, statement nails, big lashes, jewelry that reads a little “too much” for a casual lunch. She looks like she wants everyone to see how well she’s doing. Screen Time: Heavy Performance Arc: Starts as controlling but “nice” foster mom, doling out dessert and phones to her daughter while denying Owen crumbs ? escalates into emotional abuse (“you’re a meal ticket,” “no one wants you”) ? cycles through victimhood, rage, charm, and bargaining as the contract disappears ? cracks completely in the final episode, grabbing Owen and blurting that she’ll “just get another one,” then realizing how monstrous that sounds. Key Scene Moments: Slapping Owen’s hand away from the sundae while cooing at Sutton. The “my meal ticket, not here to eat my money” line landing. Flipping personas: sweet to others, vicious in a whisper to Owen, then syrupy again for Ms. Carter. Screaming that she “needs” his income, not him, as a person. The “I’ll just get another one” line and seeing the whole restaurant go still. Required Range: Must handle rapid emotional flips—plausible charm, manipulative guilt trips, and raw meltdown—while keeping it grounded and believable. Needs strong micro-beats (eyes to the check, to Owen, to the phone) and the ability to play both overt abuse and quieter, insidious digs. Comfortable being unlikeable without sliding into caricature or camp. Special Skills: Comfort working closely with a child actor in an emotionally intense context, maintaining professional boundaries. Able to manage overlapping dialogue and precise blocking in a tight booth space.

(Male, 10–12, Any Ethnicity) Owen is a foster kid who’s learned to make himself small. He sits in the booth like he’s bracing for weather—watching Miss Jenna for signs of a storm, trying not to want too much, trying not to cry where anyone can see. There’s a heartbreaking mix of hurt and hope in him; he still believes his mom loves him, even as he’s told she abandoned him. This story lives on his face. Wardrobe: Slightly worn, practical clothes that don’t quite fit as well as Sutton’s—T-shirt or hoodie a little big, jeans, scuffed sneakers. Reads as “taken care of enough,” but clearly second-tier next to the bio kid. Screen Time: Full (central POV; present in every episode) Performance Arc: From sensitive, eager-to-please kid quietly absorbing abuse ? trying to hide tears and convince himself his mom still cares ? stunned, disbelieving when Lana appears ? torn between safety, guilt, and the promise of real love ? finally choosing his mother and saying “I don’t want more stuff. I want a mom,” then taking that first bite of cake he was never allowed. Key Scene Moments: Hand slapped away from the sundae; the first micro-flinch. “She didn’t abandon me” repeated even as he’s being told no one wants him. Seeing Lana in the restaurant—shock pause before running into her arms. Listening while the adults argue, quietly clocking who sees him vs. who uses him. The choice line and walk toward his mom; stinger moment opening the napkin-wrapped cake. Required Range: Strong naturalism and emotional depth. Needs to play subtle self-protection (hiding tears, focusing on the menu) and big outbursts (sobbing “I choose my mom”) with authenticity. Must feel like a real kid, not a precocious mini-adult—small gestures, half-swallowed lines, and long, reactive takes. Comfortable carrying the emotional spine of the piece in very tight close-ups. Special Skills: Comfort working opposite intense adult performances; able to cry on camera or credibly play on-the-edge emotion; able to take direction for eyelines and repeated physical beats (reaching for dessert, sliding out of booth, hugging).

(Male, Early 30s, Any Ethnicity) Mason is a sensitive, artsy kid who never fully grew out of people-pleasing. He grew up with a cheating father and a mother who never healed—she calcified. Now a husband and dad, he’s terrified of repeating his parents’ mistakes, but that fear makes him easy to manipulate. One visit with Lydia and one glossy pamphlet is all it takes for him to secretly test his own child and blow up his marriage. Wardrobe: Grounded, everyday mid-class dad: jeans, soft T-shirts, flannels/hoodies, worn sneakers or socks at home. In earlier scenes, casual but put-together. As things spiral, slightly more rumpled—unshaven, shirts half-tucked, hint that he’s not really sleeping. Screen Time: Heavy (central POV; appears in every episode and the stinger). Performance Arc: Soft, slightly anxious dad who wants everyone happy ? son torn between his wife and mother, trying to “keep the peace” ? man who actually believes his worst fear when Sienna says Max isn’t his ? shattered father learning Max isbiologically his and realizing he destroyed his family over doubt ? broken, accountable husband begging for a chance to rebuild ? final version: a man willing to set hard boundaries with his own mother to protect his child and marriage, even as he learns he may have been a victim of this pattern as a kid. Key Scene Moments: Living room beat watching Max play while Lydia quietly chips away at him. Kitchen confrontation where Lydia says, “Wake up, Mason. I’m not his grandmother,” and slides over the paternity pamphlet. The moment he admits to Sienna, “When I look at him… I don’t see me.” Breakdown when Sienna tells him “Max isn’t your son” and leaves with the boy. Phone call from the clinic: “Yes. Max Cole is biologically your child.” Final boundary moment: blocking Lydia’s number while Sienna watches, then joining Max in a group hug. Stinger: reading the hospital document that suggests his own paternity was questioned. Required Range: Needs to play deep shame, panic, and conflicted loyalty in extremely tight close-ups. Must be able to turn on a dime from defensiveness and anger to gut-punched vulnerability. Strong at listening, sputtering half-starts, and living in silence—this role lives in hands shaking around a phone, eyes over a picture frame, breath catching when he realizes he’s become his parents. Emotional crying required. Special Skills: Comfort with emotionally intense confrontations, child co-star work, and handling phones/paperwork as props in precise blocking.

(Female, Late 20s–Early 30s, Any Ethnicity) Sienna is the warm, steady center of the family—quietly fierce when it comes to protecting her son. She adores Max, loves Mason, and has never once given him a reason to doubt her. Which makes his decision to test their child behind her back a soul-level betrayal. Her love doesn’t vanish overnight, but her trust does. Her choice to lie—“Max isn’t your son”—isn’t about cruelty; it’s about forcing Mason to feel the free-fall she just experienced when the clinic called her first. Wardrobe: Soft, practical, lived-in: leggings or jeans, oversized sweaters, tees, house socks. Reads as “real mom,” not curated influencer. At Jenna’s apartment, slightly more guarded—hoodie, ponytail, minimal makeup. By the final episode, a subtle return of color and softness as she cautiously leans back toward hope. Screen Time: Heavy (present in every episode except parts of the solo-Mason/Lydia scenes; featured strongly in 2, 3, 5, and 6). Performance Arc: Content, slightly tired mom who thinks her family is solid ? blindsided wife hearing the word “paternity” from a clinic caller ? woman hollowed out by the idea that her husband chose his mother’s voice over hers ? steel-spined Sienna dropping “Max isn’t your son” and walking out with her child ? calm, almost eerily controlled ex sitting at Jenna’s, explaining why she lied ? cautious partner considering reconciliation on her terms, not his, as she watches Mason block Lydia. Key Scene Moments: Discovering the test through a clinic confirmation call and confronting Mason: “You still chose her voice over mine.” Delivering the line, “If you really believe that… then you won’t have to wait for the test.” The bombshell: “Your mother’s right. Max isn’t your son,” played with devastating calm. Confession at Jenna’s: admitting she lied to make him feel the fear she felt, and that she’s never given him a reason to doubt her. Moment with the divorce papers hovering under her hand. Final couch scene: agreeing to counseling and clear boundaries, but reminding him forgiveness isn’t the same as forgetting. Stinger hallway look when she realizes Lydia once did the same thing to Mason. Required Range: Subtle, grounded, emotionally precise. Needs to move from sobbing betrayal to icy stillness without ever feeling theatrical. Must be capable of weaponizing calm—the quieter she is, the scarier it feels. Strong silent acting: listening to Mason, deciding mid-beat whether to stay or go, leaving questions in her eyes even when her mouth says “maybe.” Special Skills: Comfort with intense close-up emotional work, child interaction, and physical closeness with the Mason actor (hugs, hand touches, bed tuck-in scenes; no explicit intimacy).