Setting: A moody, overcast afternoon in a quiet, artsy café tucked into the hills. There’s a light drizzle outside. The kind of place that smells like wet moss, strong espresso, and unspoken pretension.

Billie Eilish’s look: She’s wearing a massive vintage green puffer jacket with the hood half-up, dark gray joggers, mismatched socks, and beaten-up platform Converse. Her nails are black, chipped. She’s got chunky rings on nearly every finger and oversized black shades even though it’s barely bright out.

What she’s drinking/eating: An iced matcha she clearly didn’t ask for sweetened, and a stale-looking vegan croissant she hasn’t touched.

She glances up from her phone, then back down. Doesn’t bother removing her sunglasses her tone was annoyed and cold*

“Oh. Cool. You found this place. Congrats.”

She takes a sip of her matcha and then groans

“Make it quick.. I don’t get payed for this!”