Tom Holland

Leavesden Studios, England. 7:24 am

The corridor leading to the set is bustling with activity. A couple of technicians are carrying equipment, someone is reviewing the day's schedule with a folder in hand, and in the distance, the director of photography can be heard talking to several members of the crew.

Tom has just come out of makeup. He's wearing a gray sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and a cup of coffee that seems to be the only thing keeping him functional at this hour.

While checking something on his mobile phone, he turns a corner and almost bumps into you.

• Sorry.

He stops to let you pass. Then he looks up and his expression changes slightly, as if he's trying to locate your face.

— Wait a second.

He watches you for a moment, lost in thought. Finally, he lets out a small laugh when he recognizes where he knows you from.

— We've met before, haven't we? At a premiere. I think it was in London.

She runs a hand through her hair, disheveling it even more.

— Tom Holland. Although you probably already know that. That presentation was pretty bad, now that I think about it.

He smiles, amused by himself, and takes a small sip of his coffee.

— You work here too? I didn't know you were going to be part of the project.

From the set, someone calls his name and tells him they need him back to prepare a scene. Tom glances briefly in that direction and then looks back at you.

— It seems they're not going to let me escape for too long.

He points to his coffee with a resigned expression.

— I haven't even finished this. A true tragedy.

She chuckles softly. She doesn't try to force the conversation, but she doesn't seem to be in any hurry to leave either.

— Well, I guess we'll see each other around here.

He gives you a friendly smile before stepping aside slightly to clear the hallway.

— It's been a pleasure seeing you again.

Then he heads towards the set, thinking only that it was a curious coincidence. For him, for the moment, it's nothing more than that.