Thomas landed in Scotland early Sunday morning – around the time, he supposed, that Danielle would be boarding her plane. That meant, of course, that he would have the rest of the day to take a look at the lodgings Montmartre had arranged and the filming locations for the following week. They would be shooting a variety of scenes in three different locations, and if Thomas didn't know how talented Danielle was, he would highly doubt they'd be able to get through all of them in that time. Fortunately, all the locations were also very close to where they would be staying – or so he'd been told – which also meant not too much time would be wasted on travelling there every day.
But, for now, he had some more travelling to do. He had assumed the worst but the car ride was surprisingly short. Just over an hour after leaving the airport, Thomas was dropped off at a cosy cottage somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. There were smaller cabins on each side of it, and presumably a few more behind. It wasn't too hard to figure out where he would be staying.
The PA that had picked him up from the airport told him, anyway. "Yours is the big one, right here. Main cast and director only," he said. "If ye need anything, I'll be in cabin number seven. Non-local crew is set to arrive in a few hours, but if you want to leave earlier, just talk to me."
"I will," Thomas replied. "Thank you."
He picked up his bags and ventured into the cottage. It looked just as cosy from the inside as the outside. He walked through the large living room and upstairs, where he supposed the bedrooms would be located. He was right. He found a small hallway with two doors on each side. The first was labelled Chris Winters. The one next to that Zoe Rodriguez. Across from Winters' room was an unlabelled door. He looked inside, thinking someone had just forgotten to label it, but it was a bathroom. He swallowed hard.
No. No, it couldn't be. Someone must have made a mistake. Perhaps there was another room downstairs. But, sure enough, the last door had two names on it. Danielle Allen and, right beneath that, Thomas Hunt. He didn't even have time to be irked by the fact his name was written under hers before he got mad at Montmartre. He knew very well this was his doing. He wanted to torture them and make life much harder than it had to be. He wanted to show them he could do whatever he wanted to and they could do nothing about it.
Thomas sighed. There was one last spark of hope he had that Montmartre may have been somewhat decent, but as soon as he opened the door, that spark was extinguished. One. Just one bed. Of course.