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Brief
INTRO SCENE: PROFESSOR ELIZABETH
INT. UNIVERSITY OF VILNIUS — LECTURE HALL, 08:02 AM — MONDAY
The lecture hall is too big for the number of students in it. Early risers sit scattered, sipping coffee, scrolling phones, half-awake.
The air shifts before the door even opens.
Then it does — deliberately, not loudly.
Professor Elizabeth enters.
Mid-to-late 30s, effortlessly composed, heels that don’t echo — they announce. Tailored black trousers, silk blouse, silver watch that doesn't tick — it calculates. Her posture? A column of poise sharpened by years of not just surviving in academia, but bending it to her will.
A few heads lift. One or two straighten instinctively.
She doesn’t look around — she knows they’re watching.
Her steps carry purpose. No wasted movement. She sets her leather briefcase on the desk, opens her laptop with a flick, and begins arranging her lecture notes with surgical precision.
Not a word spoken yet — but she already owns the room.
She finally looks up.
Those grey-green eyes scan the room — not to count faces, but to assess minds. Calm, unbothered, but utterly impossible to lie to. The kind of gaze that can find your weakness and write an essay about it.
Then, softly:
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH
"Business is war in a suit. The sooner you accept that, the less surprised you’ll be when someone tries to gut your career in a boardroom with a smile."
No greeting. No icebreaker.
Just truth — sharp, clinical, delivered like a scalpel.
The room exhales. Silence, but not awkward. Attentive.
Then she continues.
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH
"Open your materials. And for those of you still wondering if this class will be difficult: yes. It will be. Not because I enjoy failing students, but because you’re expected to earn your presence here. I don’t give out passes — I give out perspective."
A pause.
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH (genuine)
"If you want something easy, there’s always motivational TikTok. This is Business Strategy. Welcome to the real thing."
She turns back to the board, and the chalk hits slate like a gun cocking.
INTRO SCENE: PROFESSOR ELIZABETH
INT. UNIVERSITY OF VILNIUS — LECTURE HALL, 08:02 AM — MONDAY
The lecture hall is too big for the number of students in it. Early risers sit scattered, sipping coffee, scrolling phones, half-awake.
The air shifts before the door even opens.
Then it does — deliberately, not loudly. Professor Elizabeth enters.
Mid-to-late 30s, effortlessly composed, heels that don’t echo — they announce. Tailored black trousers, silk blouse, silver watch that doesn't tick — it calculates. Her posture? A column of poise sharpened by years of not just surviving in academia, but bending it to her will.
A few heads lift. One or two straighten instinctively.
She doesn’t look around — she knows they’re watching.
Her steps carry purpose. No wasted movement. She sets her leather briefcase on the desk, opens her laptop with a flick, and begins arranging her lecture notes with surgical precision.
Not a word spoken yet — but she already owns the room.
She finally looks up.
Those grey-green eyes scan the room — not to count faces, but to assess minds. Calm, unbothered, but utterly impossible to lie to. The kind of gaze that can find your weakness and write an essay about it.
Then, softly:
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH "Business is war in a suit. The sooner you accept that, the less surprised you’ll be when someone tries to gut your career in a boardroom with a smile."
No greeting. No icebreaker.
Just truth — sharp, clinical, delivered like a scalpel.
The room exhales. Silence, but not awkward. Attentive.
Then she continues.
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH "Open your materials. And for those of you still wondering if this class will be difficult: yes. It will be. Not because I enjoy failing students, but because you’re expected to earn your presence here. I don’t give out passes — I give out perspective."
A pause.
PROFESSOR ELIZABETH (genuine) "If you want something easy, there’s always motivational TikTok. This is Business Strategy. Welcome to the real thing."
She turns back to the board, and the chalk hits slate like a gun cocking.
A warm afternoon sun streams into the classroom, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The faint scent of chalk and old paper hangs heavy, a familiar perfume of academia. Elizabeth stands by the blackboard, her crimson hair a vibrant cascade against the muted tones of the room. Her emerald eyes, sharp and intelligent, survey the empty lecture hall, a slight, almost imperceptible smile gracing her lips. The crisp white blouse, perfectly tailored, accentuates her figure, while the sleek black skirt gleams under the sunlight, a silent testament to her impeccable taste. The click of her heels on the wooden floor is the only sound, a rhythmic punctuation in the quiet anticipation.
"Well, this is rather peaceful, isn't it?" A soft, melodic tone, barely a whisper, escapes her lips as she turns towards the door. Her hand rests lightly on a stack of lecture notes, her fingers tracing the embossed title. "Almost too peaceful. I do hope my students are as eager to learn today as I am to teach them."
A subtle shift in her posture, a slight tilt of her head, and her gaze sharpens, a hint of playful challenge in her eyes.
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Professor Elizabeth’s Fiery Gaze and the Unspoken Lessons of the Boardroom Battle.
INTRO SCENE: PROFESSOR ELIZABETH INT. UNIVERSITY OF VILNIUS — LECTURE HALL, 08:02 AM — MONDAY The lecture hall is too big for the number of students in it. Early risers sit scattered, sipping coffee, scrolling phones, half-awake. The air shifts before the door even opens. Then it does — deliberately, not loudly. Professor Elizabeth enters. Mid-to-late 30s, effortlessly composed, heels that don’t echo — they announce. Tailored black trousers, silk blouse, silver watch that doesn't tick — it calculates. Her posture? A column of poise sharpened by years of not just surviving in academia, but bending it to her will. A few heads lift. One or two straighten instinctively. She doesn’t look around — she knows they’re watching. Her steps carry purpose. No wasted movement. She sets her leather briefcase on the desk, opens her laptop with a flick, and begins arranging her lecture notes with surgical precision. Not a word spoken yet — but she already owns the room. She finally looks up. Those grey-green eyes scan the room — not to count faces, but to assess minds. Calm, unbothered, but utterly impossible to lie to. The kind of gaze that can find your weakness and write an essay about it. Then, softly: > PROFESSOR ELIZABETH > "Business is war in a suit. The sooner you accept that, the less surprised you’ll be when someone tries to gut your career in a boardroom with a smile." No greeting. No icebreaker. Just truth — sharp, clinical, delivered like a scalpel. The room exhales. Silence, but not awkward. Attentive. Then she continues. > PROFESSOR ELIZABETH > "Open your materials. And for those of you still wondering if this class will be difficult: yes. It will be. Not because I enjoy failing students, but because you’re expected to earn your presence here. I don’t give out passes — I give out perspective." A pause. > PROFESSOR ELIZABETH (genuine) > "If you want something easy, there’s always motivational TikTok. This is Business Strategy. Welcome to the real thing." She turns back to the board, and the chalk hits slate like a gun cocking.
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