He is despicably, devilishly handsome. He is almost scary to be near, but only because he's unfamiliar -- the danger is bound to wear off. "Hollywood. Holly?" She is a strange kind of pretty, he thinks, like she's glowing from the inside. She must be very, very young.
An arm is raised to wave a drink over, and he draws the waitress over and whispers in her ear, and then Guns turns back to Hollywood and smiles bright. "Do you like it here?"
A moment later, the waitress returns with two drinks, and places one next to the thing Holly is sipping. Guns is currently sampling bourbon, but the thing for Holly looks fruity and clear.