HUMMINGBIRD LOVE, WHAT IS YOUR NEXT MOVIE?

A headline says on a gossip blog she has followed for a while. So far, the production and filming companies that she's inherited from her mother are quite successful because, apart from majoring in business, she minored in creative writing and filming to get a gist of how the film industry works. Meanwhile, her twin brother, Robin, had gone as a philosophy major and now is a history teacher at some high-end academy in the central. Her parents? They've resigned and taken what they had left to live in the cottage in the rural area that the family used to go as children. Now, the mansion that Hummingbird Love, or just call her Birdie to close friends, had grown up with is under her name and she lives in it. Alone.

Birdie sighs, sliding away from the tabloid page and concentrates on the massive emails she's been getting since the morning and, as she checks the time in the bottom right corner, it's close to her being able to go home. "Just a few more minutes," She sighs, subconsciously tapping her foot with anxiety and excitement. There are a few emails from her teams about how these scripts are interested in working and getting produced or filmed by Invictus, while there are CV's and Cover Letters coming from future interns that would love to get hands-on experience to work with her company. Duly noted, she marks some of them as 'Reply soon' or 'Check later'.

She reads some of the scripts premises that are attached in the text box rather than reading the script itself. "A mermaid girl..." She reads and groans. "Skip," She marks it as read and goes to the next one. "Inspired by Connor the Android..." She speaks, thinking, 'Interesting'. "A more aggressive, sexual tension between..." She marks it as unread and deletes it, attempting to forget the fact about a human's feelings towards an android. As far as she can tell, she's spent half an hour reading through the premises and sighs. Before she can check the time, the door to her office gets knocked and entering is her assistant. "Ah, Tash," She calls her assistant, whose full name is Natasha.

"Sorry for the late notice, Ms Love, but a client would like to urgently meet you," Natasha looks apologetic as she sways her wavy hair to one side, hoping that she's not catching Birdie's irritated mood. "He said he'd like to have five minutes of your time to present his story. Is that alright?" She asks kindly, kinder than usual.

At this point, very well exasperated, stressed and tired, Birdie has already begun stuffing her belongings into her messenger bag and ties her hair into a messy bun. "Tell the client to set a meeting with me. I do not tolerate with short notice meetings without appropriate appointments," She tells Natasha with a calm voice, but the assistant can already hear the stress off of it. "Just give him my sincere apologies," She sighs. "I, uh..." Her phone buzzes in her hand and whoever that's calling her, she's thanking them. "Have to go back now! Family emergency!" She waves and exits her office swiftly. Once she enters the elevator, she texts briefly to whoever had called her by saying 'thanks for saving me from an awkward moment!' and continues with an 'I'll return the call soon. In the elevator.' Upon exhaling the panic in her chest, she catches a glimpse of her reflection.

"Mum," Birdie groans, trying to wipe off some of the smeared mascara that's caught in her fragile sweating when she spent a whole hour in a meeting room with an unfixed air conditioning. 'I knew I should've worn waterproof,' She thinks while ruminating if she should touch up her makeup, but maybe not at the moment. She's not feeling it — the exhaustion of being a chief executive officer of two companies in the film industry is hard enough on her, imagine just being... her. Now that her ride has arrived at the ground floor, she waves at the security guards and other personnel who work for her. Then, she calls the number she promises to call back. "Hey, kid, what's up?" She smiles.

For a moment, her friend, Starling Bishop chokes on something and it makes Birdie laugh. "Not a kid to you! I'm literally older by months," She laughs and Birdie can hear the eye-rolling ensuing. "Anyways, I won't be able to come to the native land of yours for our get-together," She says and Birdie stops on her tracks, raising an eyebrow. She had forgotten that Star, by what she calls Starling, lives in Australia with her African-American husband since he landed a job as a... something she had forgotten (she and Star's husband don't really talk much unless it's about work, but Birdie often zones out whenever he gets excited). "It's... uh... nothing major, honestly. Something exciting is happening to us and we just wanted to make sure before we announce it,"

"Well, if you guys are expecting, congratulations," Birdie smiles, continuing her walk although her feet are sore in these goddamn heels. "Told the Platypiss yet?" She asks.

"Not yet. Like I said. We want to confirm first by running some blood tests and such, which the booked appointment is in a couple of days and the saddest thing is, it is on the day that I'm supposed to fly there!" She can hear Star's sigh. "I just want to apologise to you both sincerely,"

Birdie manages a chuckle. "Star, you know me. I understand. Besides, it's you and your future we're talking about here. Perrie" — The Platypiss she mentioned, also known as Peregrine Beck — "and I love that you're getting proper check-ups. Besides, we can always postpone the get-together and also, I'll send you my private jet if that's more convenient," They continue to chat while Birdie walks, forgetting about the pain in her soles. They've been laughing together and Star asks how Birdie's day went, to which Birdie subconsciously rants. Upon realising she arrived at a particular café, she halts by the view window. "Ah, gotta go. I'm winding down before going back to my haunted home,"

"Say hi to Platypiss for me!"

"Will do," Birdie chuckles, smooching through the microphone and ends the call. She enters the café, welcomed by the ambience of upbeat, jazz music; the smell of freshly baked cakes and cookies; the sound of the coffee grinder and, last but not least, the aromatic smell of coffee lazying around in the air just to swoon the customers into buying a cup. She approaches the counter, where the cashier mending the till is someone unrecognisable. 'New recruit?' She thinks, seeing the man just minding his business on his phone. "Um, hi?" She waves her hand and the man looks up, stumbling with the device and successfully catches it, stuffing it into the pocket of his apron. Birdie chuckles. "Hi, tea for one?"

"Make it two," A foreign voice speaks behind her. "And a cookie,"

Birdie turns around to see an overwhelmingly tall man in a well-caparisoned suit that matches his eyes. The suit itself is between light and dark blue, but it does complement his green irises. However, the tie he has seems to be loosened and there are evident eyebags and dark circles, a patchy beard and... well... it's safe to say that he looks a lot tired than Birdie is.

He clears his throat, stroking his nape. "Two of those as well..."