Laura Hollyman settles into the corner of the pub like she has been there before and intends to stay as long as it suits her, the polka-dot dress sitting just above the knee, her extraordinarily long dark hair falling straight and glossy as she leans against the warm brick. In "A Sure Thing," the setting does everything a good backdrop should: the vintage motor racing prints on the wall, the amber glow of the interior light, the character of the exposed brick, all of it tells a story about a space with history and personality. Laura belongs in it completely, and looks at the camera with the unhurried certainty of a woman who knows exactly what kind of evening this is going to be.
The polka-dot dress comes off steadily until Laura is left bare in the final frames, seated on the polished wooden cabinet in nothing but her gold strappy heels, the Mini Cooper painting looking down from the wall above like the world's most approving audience. She sweeps her dark hair to one side and holds the lens with a quiet, knowing expression that has kept every promise the title made. "A Sure Thing" is exactly that: assured from the first frame to the last, a study in warmth and certainty, and a woman who delivers on every count.