Holland made her way into Intelligentsia five minutes late, thanks to unrelenting L.A. traffic, and a shoot that had run an hour over. She was flustered, her jacket half off, her hair a mess, and Holland only stopped to fix any of it once she was safely inside, stalled as she tried to source out a familiar blonde head of hair.
Holland got her jacket off, fixed her hair down into place. She sucked in a breath and glanced around, turning on the heel of her shoe until -- ah. There she was. Holland smiled, hurried over to meet the other woman.
“Uhm, what the fuck?” Holland asked, grinning big, sitting herself down in the chair across from Emma. “Hi,” she said enthusiastically. “As I live and fucking breathe, Emma Ridley. Is that you?” Holland teased, as if she hadn’t sourced Emma out to meet up for a coffee days in advance. She turned to hook her purse over the back of her chair, then returned forward. “Sorry I’m late. Work ran long. Hi,” she said again, now that she was settled at the table. Holland let out a breath. “How are you? You look fucking beautiful. I’m sorry, just -- wow. You grew up good. Do you want a coffee? Tea?” Holland asked, always running a million miles a minute.