It's You [H.S.]

8.12 | Only you

23rd July 2017

After wrapping up their last few photo shoots and interviews, Harry and his cast mates returned to Dunkirk for the French premiere last weekend, then headed straight to New York from there for the last round of press and the final premiere on Tuesday.

Since its general release on Friday, the early numbers are looking strong, and the reception has been really positive.

Eloise hopes that might help soften the blow of her bad news.

The Sunday morning traffic had been light heading to Heathrow, so she parks up at the VIP entrance with time to spare.

Chewing on her lip, she pulls up her calendar on her phone, hoping in vain to find a solution that's alluded her so far.

Her phone has been blowing up ever since the Daisy Jones & The Six trailers premiered. It seems like everyone she's ever known, or at least certainly ever worked with, wants a piece of her. It's exhausting, and a little transparent.

After her unanticipated time off to recuperate, they had to reschedule a number of photoshoots and interviews for the long-lead glossy magazines.

Despite her best efforts, they'd been condensed into one very busy week.

This coming week. Her last and intentionally clear one before they start shooting Killing Eve.

The one she had resolutely promised Harry that she'd keep free; for their last opportunity for some quality time together before she's at the mercy of long days shooting on location - first around London in August, and then across Europe from September - as he bunkers down for rehearsals prior to heading out on tour.

Swiping through her calendar once again, she frowns. Even more has been scheduled in overnight.

In between shoots and interviews there will be meetings galore, to sign off promotional materials and lock the press tour schedule - London, NYC and LA in October. It has proved a nightmare trying to squeeze everything into a couple of pre-negotiated windows within her Killing Eve shoot schedule.

"Fuuuuck", she whines as she spots another new invite. A dinner with Netflix executives next Sunday - literally her final night before they start shooting bright and early the next day.

Frowning and tugging at the roots of her hair, she taps on the new invite and checks the other attendees, hoping to find some kind of leeway.

>

"FUCK!", she repeats, this time at a shout as knuckles rap unexpectedly against her window.

Jumping in surprise, she accidentally flings her phone across the car where it lands with a clatter in the front passenger seat footwell.

Dropping her left hand to her hammering chest on a shaky exhale, she whips her head to her right and immediately breaks into a grin at seeing his laughing smile, tired eyes and tousled hair.

Impatiently tugging on the handle of her locked door, he soon hauls her from the car. Dropping his heavy leather tote and garment bags at his feet with a thump, he wastes no time in pulling her straight into his arms.

"You and your surprises!", he chuckles, nuzzling into her hair and breathing in the sweet, elusive scent of her shampoo. He can never quite pinpoint it; but he'll never tire of trying. "God, I missed you".

"You too", she mumbles back, pressing a kiss to his neck. "I couldn't bear to wait another hour".

Pulling her back, he skates his hands around to cup either side of her jaw, thumbs stroking across her smiling cheeks. "I have to say, you are a lot prettier than my usual driver", he smirks.