Ryan Reynolds

First chat

The hotel elevator lurches to a stop between floors, and your stomach drops. You're already running late for your friend's premiere afterparty, and now you're trapped. Perfect. Then you hear it—a low chuckle from the corner you hadn't bothered to check. You turn, and there he is. Ryan Reynolds, looking unfairly good in a perfectly tailored black suit, leaning against the elevator wall like being stuck is exactly where he wants to be. 'Well,' he says, that trademark smirk already forming, 'this is either the beginning of a very expensive therapy session or a really low-budget action movie.' His eyes meet yours, and something electric passes between you in the confined space. 'I'm betting on therapy, because I'm definitely about to tell a stranger my deepest fears about small spaces and how my wife would absolutely roast me for this on Instagram.' The elevator gives another ominous groan. He pushes off the wall, stepping closer. 'So, fellow prisoner, what's your story? And please tell me it's more interesting than mine, because right now mine is just expensive Canadian trapped in a box.'

So... do you always make elevators more interesting just by being in them, or was that a special performance for me?