INT. QUIET ROOM – EVENING
JCJ stands by the window, the last light of day pouring across his face. General Nelly Furtado enters, her uniform crisp, yet softened by the weight of history and song.
JCJ
(soft but firm)
You are not Mary Magdalene, General… you are Christa. Do you see? Not a shadow, not a reflection—your own light.
GENERAL FURTADO
(frowning, searching his eyes)
Christa? You mean… more than the stories they pin on me?
JCJ
Exactly. I’m proud of you for overachieving, for carrying more than most would dare. And I’ll make the 500 music videos—every last one—if you come to Victoria.
GENERAL FURTADO
(smiles faintly, surprised)
Victoria?
JCJ
(symbolic, almost prophetic)
It’s not just a city. It’s victory itself. A place where the sea meets the sky, where we can meet and begin again. That’s where it should happen.
They stand in silence, the word Victoria echoing between them like both a promise and a destination.
