His initial aim while leaving the apartment was to wait for Lily, but he soon put that to backburner. Williamsburg in the early morning was filled with chaos, people running around going to work, shops going through the morning checklist, people who were just leaving their parties mixing with a long line of people joining the proud tradition of the walk of shame.
None of those details were supposed to be exceptional, but Master Photography allowed him to capture reality in a way that was stark, ugly, yet beautiful at the same time.
He documented as the city wake up … or maybe just changing. There was a reason people called New York the city that never slept. People moved, and his camera danced, immortalizing the moment.
Then, the building door opened, and Lily Aldrin walked out, moving with a presence that added to her tiny stature, five-five at best. Her red hair was vivid enough to register even in the crowd, especially since she was impeccably dressed.
Too impeccably, even, his fashion knowledge easily allowing him to guess the prices. The boots alone cost almost two thousand, which, even without the show knowledge, would have been suspicious; suggesting either illicit income or rich parents.
Or, in Lily’s case, uncontrollable credit card debt, enough to blast her credit score.
She stopped as she saw him pointing a camera at her. "Are you taking pictures of me?" she asked, her voice stiff and suspicious.
“Maybe,” he teased as he lowered the camera, and her anger, which she was trying to build up, faded immediately. She recognized him from the previous evening, where he had greeted her wearing only a towel.
“It’s you,” she said, surprised.
“Yes. It’s me,” he said. “Sorry about last night. I was here for a photoshoot … and things kind of went sideways.”
“A photoshoot,” she said, her voice stiff. “Let me guess—“
“Fashion, actually,” he said.
“Really?” she said, her tone filled with disbelief.
“Your top is a recent model from Givenchy, retailing just under a thousand. Your boots are from Valentino, and you must have good contacts because they are currently on the literal black market. Your belt is Prada, and frankly, just a touch too thick for your outfit. So, how about now? My identity as a fashion photographer is still unbelievable.”
“Well…” she said, trying to find an excuse. “You might be gay!” she declared, as if it were a genius idea. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to, not with the way they met. “Well, maybe you were doing very rigorous yoga,” she added in a small voice.
“Maybe. Yoga can be exhausting and … loud, after all,” he said with a chuckle. "I apologize for the noise. The building’s walls were thinner than I expected."
"Well, it sounded like someone was being murdered,” she argued, but he could see that she wasn’t exactly trying to be convincing. She was merely looking for a technical victory … which he was happy with. Because, it meant she would speak with him more and more.
He had some conflicting feelings about Lily in the show, and he was more than happy to work those feelings out properly. "You live in the building as well?"
“Yeah, just subletting temporarily, until I find my footing.”
“Really, what do you do for work?”
“I was teaching kindergarden, but I’m taking a temporary break to explore my art career,” she said.
He paused. Only after she mentioned, he remembered that after she returned, she had been determined not to return to her teaching career for a while; which explained her temporary accommodation in Williamsburg.
“Fascinating. What exactly? Music, dance, painting?”
“Painting,” she said, trying to sound proud, no doubt to avoid mentioning she had just had her hopes extinguished, and working as a waitress. She was prideful, but it was a different way than Max’s and Caroline’s pride. Less impressive … and more fragile.
“Impressive. Any specific expertise?” he said. He wasn’t an expert in painting, but a combination of research to keep up with Alex and Mia, added to his photography knowledge, he was able to keep up with her enough to ask her insightful questions, occasionally sharing his perspective about a photographer, but without dominating the conversation.
It wasn’t about actually learning, but about validating her as an artist.
For a woman who was spiraling out and questioning everything about her life while being cut from her support group, those questions were like balm to her wounded soul.
“I think that’s all I will photograph for the day,” he said. “The golden hour is over, and with it, the best light,” he explained.
“Oh, right,” she said, then checked her phone. “Damn, I’m late for my interview already.”
“Why don’t I buy you coffee as apology, then? I’m feeling peckish.”
“Well, you owe me one after ruining my plans,” she said, but this time her tone was playful.
“By the way, Red. I still don’t know your name. I’m Ethan,” he introduced himself.
“Lily,” she responded as they took their seats. “So, you’re stranded in New York because the model you are supposed to work with delayed, and you have a few days to kill,” she said. “Sounds tough, if you have to live in Williamsburg.”
He smiled. “I could have stayed in a hotel, but…” he said, reminding her of the scene she had interrupted.
“Oh, right,” she said. “And those were not the models.”
“No, just some friends,” he said. “The firm is stricter about the models.”
“Why? Do they have to be famous or something?”
“No, but it’s a startup, and they have a more unique perspective. They pick the model, I just shoot.”
“Too bad I’m not tall enough to be a model,” she said. He paused, just long enough for her to pick. “Right?” she asked. He paused again, as under the circumstances, letting her ‘catch’ the opportunity was much better than offering it. “Don’t tell me I actually have a chance,” she asked, excited.
“Well, not necessarily,” he admitted. “I know they are looking for people who don’t follow the classic runway principles. I can take a few photos and send them to Haley if you want, but I won’t promise anything.”
“And, what would be the pay?” she added. “Assuming they actually want me?”
“The pay is good. A few thousand as a flat modeling fee, plus free clothes from some up-and-coming designer houses, because the company wants the model to wear them all the time. It’s a more active marketing strategy.”
“And, what’s the site?” she asked. He gave her the address, and her eyes widened. “Tell me you’re joking,” she said. “That’s the site that everyone is talking about!”
“Well, let me prove,” he said as he opened his phone, and showed some pictures of Penny from the shoot, the ones that weren’t published because they were bloopers, including one Penny had spilled coffee all over herself.
“You are really working for them. It’s amazing,” she said. “Can you really send my photos?”
“I will, but I can’t guarantee that they will be interested,” he said. “The model selections are above my head. But, we can have a quick test shoot. You are certainly dressed well enough.”
She nodded. After their coffee finished, they walked until he found a nice alley with good lighting and background, the faded brick contrasting with her hair color.
"Just stand naturally," he said. "Don't pose. The first thing we’re looking for is natural charm, and you have it. Just show it.”
Lily had the beauty, but a natural model, she was not. She was too stubborn and headstrong for it, and unlike Penny, she didn’t have years of acting training and failed auditions to let her mellow.
However, Master Photography was no joke; neither was his authority coming from his Charisma. He took a few photos, and once the good ones accumulated, he showed them to her. Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe that’s me,” she said.
He asked her a few more poses, and between them, they talked, the conversation flowing. The more she got into the habit of following his orders, the more at ease she became.
"So, the transition from teaching to art," he said, adjusting his angle, “Do you have something concrete, or are you still exploring?"
"Both. Neither." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s difficult to explain. I even went to San Fransisco for a few months, but I returned.”
"Why?" he asked, acting like he didn’t know she returned because of a failure.
"Because New York is my home. My friends are here. My identity is here. It means my art is here as well."
"Smart."
From there, they chatted a bit more, including some ghost mentions of ex-boyfriends, which he acted like he wasn’t aware all pointing at only one man.
Marshall. Good guy, but he didn’t feel any guilt pursuing Lily. Not getting back together meant that he was free to explore his life … but so was Lily.
“That’s good enough,” he said. He removed his memory card, connected it to his phone with an adapter, and acted as if he had sent them to someone else. “And, sent,” he said. “We should be able to hear in an hour or so.”
She looked at him, and the expression on her face was between gratitude and intrigue.
"Can we keep shooting?" she asked. “If you don’t have anywhere else to be, of course.”
“Sure,” he said.
They shot for another half an hour, the images improving as she got into the habit of listening to him.
“Wow, I look amazing,” she whispered as they went over the latest photos.
While they chatted, he decided to use a little trick to create a fake discussion between him and Haley, something he was easily able to do even without programming, as there were too many apps to fake.
Technically, it was wrong, but considering they were still friends with Barney, he wasn’t feeling guilty about subjecting her to a much milder version of one of Barney’s ploys.
“Give me a minute,” he said as he took a step to the side, and started typing like he was having a heated conversation, and when he returned, he put the phone on the table, the last messages still visible. He stretched, looking sad.
“I’m guessing I have been rejected,” she said, her disappointment clear.
“In a way—“ he started, then corrected himself. “Yes,” he said.
“What do you mean, in a way?” she said, and he avoided her gaze, faking a self-conscious attitude. He avoided her gaze, knowing that she was too nosy to leave his phone alone. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she turned his phone, flicked through the fake conversation. “It says here that she wants me to try for the second project,” she added.
“Well, that’s the part I was feeling a bit self-conscious about. It’s … underwear,” he admitted. “Not something that easy to offer without sounding like a creep.”
“That’s a valid opportunity,” she said.
“Yes, it is,” he said. “Technically, even your face wouldn’t be seen, because you’ll be wearing a mask. That’s the part of the brand, the mystery,” he said.
She paused. “And, the pay?”
“The test session pays two thousand dollars, and that’s without any right to use the photos. If we actually want to go over, we’ll probably be looking at a payment of twenty thousand at a minimum for a job that would at most take a few days, spread over a month.”
“That’s incredible pay. Especially with the masks, though what kind?”
“Think of them as fancy Venetian masks, evocative of royalty and more elegant times, contrasting with some … brave choices.”
"That's a lot of money," she said.
"It’s a tricky market, especially since our deals come with some exclusivity requests. I don’t know what the final offer would be if it succeeds, but I know Penny’s performance bonus for the month is nearing six figures.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money.”
He shrugged. “It’s not a promise. It won’t be connected to the main brand, so there’s a chance it’ll fail, meaning you’ll only get the session fee. Assuming you get the approval for lingerie work.”
“Which is twenty thousand dollars,” she replied, his apparent reluctance making her even more excited.
"How long is the test session?"
"Three to four hours. Five-star hotel room. Multiple looks. Full wardrobe provided, though you keep everything, same as the editorial line."
"I need one thing," she said.
"Name it."
"I need to bring someone. An observer. To make sure everything is aboveboard. I trust you, but I'm not going to a hotel room with a man I met an hour ago."
"That's perfectly reasonable. Please don’t bring a boyfriend or someone chatty. It’ll be a professional shoot, and interruptions slow things down in a way you can’t imagine."
"Don’t worry. I’ll call my best friend, Robin. She's actually works in media, so she’ll know.”
“That’s more than acceptable,” he said. “Why don’t you call her while I make the arrangements.”
Amusingly, the arrangements were easy, because he already had contacts with local designers. Just the suggestion of a potential new website focusing on lingerie meant that they were not only happy to send him the samples he required, but actually arranging a hotel room and some sundries.
While he arranged those, Lily called Robin. He didn’t try to listen, but he still caught fragments, with Lily trying to convince Robin that she wasn’t dealing with someone shady like Barney.
“Where will be meeting?” she asked.
“Four Seasons, on 57th street,” he said, which, when Lily repeated, was enough to earn some leeway. Still, they went through a rapid-fire negotiation before settling.
"She'll meet us there," Lily said, hanging up. "She's at the studio until eleven, then she's free. She said, and I'm quoting, 'if this is legitimate, I'll observe. If it's not, I'll make sure they find the body.'"
"Good friend.”
“She’s the best,” Lily said, with just a hint of excitement, making him remember the rather interesting crush Lily had on Robin, which had potential. “Let’s return, because I need to pick my laptop and a few extra lenses,” he said.
“Good. It’ll give me enough time to call off from work,” she said, her hint of shame suggesting that she was currently working at that weird island-themed restaurant.
They returned to the building.
[Achievement complete. Convince Lily to an erotic lingerie shoot.
Challenge: Medium]
[+5 Perception
1 Random Silver Skill
1 Random Silver Reward]
He went with Perception, not really trying to collect intermediate skills anymore.
Preparations didn’t take long. Caroline was still sleeping, so he wrote her a note about leaving for work, but promising to return; something that was believable since he left his luggage there, and just picked up his portable light setup, two foldable reflectors and a small external light that could be attached to walls.
With Master Photographer, it was more than enough.
Then, they took a New York cab to the hotel, and Lily looked around, fascinated. A fascination that had been increased even more when he told his name, only to be led to one of the better suites.
It wasn’t the presidential suite, but it was still a huge, two-thousand-square-foot monstrosity with a large main room, two bedrooms, and a shockingly large bathroom with a hot tub.
“Wow, just the bathroom is more luxurious than my apartment,” she said, then paused. “Also, much larger as well.”
He smiled. “That’s what happens when the company is footing the bill,” he said.
She paused. “Wait, if the company can afford such places, why are you in Williamsburg?”
“Because these are the places people actually live. I’m an artist, Lily. Fashion photography pays the bills. Street photography is my passion.”
It certainly sounded better than staying just to fuck two sexy diner waitresses.
“So, what do we do?” she asked.
“You can relax, or put on makeup if you want,” he said. “There should be a set waiting for you in the bedroom,” he said. “Since it’s a test shoot, we don’t have strict requirements for the makeup, and I’ll sort through the deliveries.”
“Can I use the hot tub?” she asked, excited.
“You can, but I would hold off until we finish the shoot. Your friend might be alarmed if she came to find you in the bathrobe,” he reminded.
Her eyes widened. “Good point. Thanks,” she said.
Quickly checking the deliveries, he also threw a box at her, which held a black teddy, which could be classified as modest because it came with its own robe.
Lily touched the box with the particular reverence of someone with undiagnosed shopping issues. Then, while Lily disappeared to the bedroom, he started going around the room and adjusting the lights. Blackout curtains helped him limit the natural light, and the detailed controls meant that even without professional equipment, he could get some incredible results.
Just as he was putting the finishing touches, he heard a knock on the door. He opened, and saw a woman, brunette, tall, standing with the perfect stance, radiating a sexy kind of confidence.
Robin Scherbatsky.
She was carrying a messenger bag, wearing a blazer over a simple top, and evaluating Ethan with the kind of thorough, unflinching assessment that could have doubled as an interrogation technique. Still, her attitude was relatively neutral, because expensive suites in the Four Seasons suggested a more credible operation than she had expected.
He had a feeling that if he invited her to a motel, she might have arrived with her gun.
"Robin," she said, her voice still cold. "Lily's friend. I'm here to observe."
He nodded and invited her, but he could read her reaction. She was determined to stay perfectly cold, determined to keep Lily safe … also likely preventing Lily from having some personal adventures.
After all, the rest of the gang was determined to reunite Lily and Marshall. Luckily, he knew exactly how to shatter her composure utterly.
“Do I know you? You look really familiar,” he said.
“I work in Metro One. I’m sure Lily mentioned it.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m sure it’s not that. It’s my first time in New York, and there’s no way I would see you unless you have a viral video or something…” he said, letting her blush slightly.
Then, he used his acting skill to the limit. He paused, let his eyes widen in almost comedic shock, and gasped. “Holy hell. You’re Robin Daggers,” he gasped.
Just like that, her composure shattered.
It was beautiful.