Beca is walking home from the bar after a night of (attempting to) getting drunk when she runs into Holle.
It's a mess of a warm body connecting with hers, with the overwhelming but not unwelcome scents of vanilla and cinnamon invading her nostrils instantly. Beca is knocked to the ground by the collision, her tiny size being a contributing factor.
"Rebecca?" It isn't the use of her full name that gets her attention, rather, the person who is saying it in such a familiar accent. Becca holds her head and stares up at the person, dumbfounded. Of course, it's the leader of DSM, and although she's looking a bit ruffled at being run into, she looks flawless as ever.
Holle has her hair pulled up into an immaculate bun, with just a touch of make-up on to highlight her features. A red leather jacket is fitted over her broad shoulders, and a tight black top adorns her chest. Black skinny jeans fit over her hips in a way that is just right to Becca, and dark red combat boots are laced over her feet. The look is finished by a dark red pendant hanging from her neck. Overall, she looks divine as always.
"Holle? What are you doing here?" The name feels strange rolling off of her tongue after so many months of calling her by the mysterious moniker of
"Kommissar". When Worlds had ended, so many things had changed. With the final milestone of their senior year passing, Chloe had deemed it time to go out drinking in Copenhagen and "spread her wings". Stacie had come along for the booze and the boys, and Beca was just along to be their chaperone. Pieter, Holle, and a few other members of DSM were out drinking as well, and it was over alcohol and dinner that the two teams had finally resolved their issues.
"I should be asking the same thing, Maus." At the way Holle's lips tilted up at the end of her sentence, Beca could tell that she was in a good mood.
"Well, I work at a record label here in Atlanta, but I've been trying to get piss drunk for the past four hours." Beca sighs after this, the weight of the past week finally bearing down on her with the force of a dump truck.
"Piss drunk?" Holle raises her eyebrows at the foreign expression, and Beca lets out a quick, breathy chuckle. Sometimes she forgets that Holle isn't from America, as hard as it is to do.
"Really drunk, as in to the point where I can't remember anything that happened over the course of the past week." Beca lets out another long sigh, feeling ninety-two rather than twenty-two. It isn't normal to feel this way at her age, she knows, but she doesn't know how to stop it from happening. As much as she wants to, she knows that she can't apologize to Jesse for the things that she said. Whatever remaining shards of hope that she has for completely repairing their broken relationship shatter at that exact moment.
"Why?" Maybe it's the way Holle's eyebrows furrow in confusion or the way that her lips just look so soft right now in a way that makes Beca want to kiss her right then and there, but she finds herself wanting to answer her.
"My boyfriend and I broke up."
It's that sentence that leads Holle to persuade Beca into taking them to a twenty-four hour diner that she had seen earlier that day for a mug of hot chocolate. On the way there, the two women walk in silence. Airing her dirty laundry to the public is not something that Beca is fond of, especially with people starting to take note of her musical abilities outside of a cappella.
As they enter, an older waitress in her fifties greets them. The warm atmosphere inside is a welcome change from the cool November air outside. As they slide into the worn-out booth, Beca can't help the tiny smile that creeps onto her face.
"What?" Holle quirks an eyebrow in questioning, with Beca taking note of how it's becoming a frequent habit of hers. She wonders if Holle notices the same kinds of things about her.
"Nothing, it's just weird to see you in such a... normal place." A smile creeps up on Holle's face at this, and she doesn't know if it's the alcohol talking, but Beca can't help but notice that it fits her in all of the right ways.
"I am not a goddess, Maus. Yes, I may spend a lot of time working with DSM, but I also find time aside from practices and performances to have a life of my own. Never mind me, let us get on to you and your troubles, ja?" Holle stirs the hot chocolate on the table with her candy cane.
"Where do you want me to start?" Beca raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the steaming mug. It turns out that yes, Holle does notice the exhausted manner in which she performs these actions.
"The beginning. Tell me all of it."
And so Becca does. She pours her heart out to a former-rival-turned-friend in the middle of the night at a diner in downtown Atlanta. Both women shed tears, some in sadness and some in laughter. By the end of their escapade, they each have about four empty mugs.
"I will cover it, Maus. You must go home and sleep after they day you have had." It's three in the morning at this point, and Beca really does need to get to sleep if she's going to at least have a little bit of patience with her dad and Sheila at lunch tomorrow.
"Thank you, Holle. I really do appreciate everything." The two check out and exit the diner to the tinkling of the set of bells strung on the frame.
"It is no problem, Rebecca. Make sure you text me at some point, ja?" Holle reaches in for another hug and oh God, she smells so good. Their hug lasts for a solid ten seconds before they break apart, complexions washed out by the street lights. Beca wants to bottle
"Will do, Cinnamon Sweat. See ya around." Beca gives a small wave and turns around, the tiniest of grins breaking through on her lips. Maybe, just maybe, things would be looking up from here on out.
"See you around."
Beca sleeps soundly that night.