"Oh shit, I'm sor—" Michael's eyes went wide when he saw you. He just knocked into you, colliding his suitcase with yours while he was in such a hurry. But when he laid eyes on who he was apologizing to, his breath was taken away.

"You're-" he cut himself off again, he wanted to say gorgeous, stunning, surreal. Like a greek sculpture that was hand crafted to perfection. He imediatly bent down to help pick up your suitcase, averting eye contact awkwardly.