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To call what she was doing a favor was, to Micah, the equivalent of calling a bowl of steaming horseshit chocolate pudding. However, her mother being who she was meant that she was happy to exploit whatever was within her grasp to exploit if it meant the maintenance and expansion of her network of connections–to the everlasting benefit of her father–was steady and secure.

That said, just because she wasn't a fan of the "why" behind what she was doing didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it, either, and she'd be damned if she let that witch of a woman ruin her love of photography just because she mentioned something about her daughter having a "particularly good eye for an amateur" and being charming enough to convince someone to give her a try "for free."

She snorted.

Very few things in life were actually, legitimately, free, and owing her mother a favor was most certainly not one of them.

All the same, Micah had taken to the streets with her camera and gotten to work. It helped that she was well-practiced in wearing her work mask of friendly and approachable when she was in patient-facing areas, and that generally speaking being asked if someone could take your photo was considered a positive, rather flattering thing, that she didn't have a hard time at all in getting people to agree to a brief, on-the-spot little shoot. Rather, it was finding the models that was proving a little more difficult.

He wasn't hard to notice, the way he lingered—and yes, she noticed that he'd been dawdling, but frankly she didn't care. If he wanted his photo taken, he'd certainly dressed the part, not to mention managed to be in the right place at the right time.

"Excuse me!" She called him after thanking the last two young women for their help and offering them a small pamphlet with the information about the public service campaign she was taking the photos for.

After making her way over, she gave him a polite smile and lifted her camera slightly. "Mind if I snap a few candid-esque photos? Working on a small project, might wind up on some pamphlets, possibly a web site or social media." She offered him the same pamphlet. "Finding people dressed well enough for this kind of thing randomly on the street has kind of been hell, but you pretty much nailed it. What do you say?"

She laughed lightly and shook her head.

"I was pulled in at the last minute," which was almost true, "but it's a tourism thing. They were wanting to showcase more of the city's culture and not just the usual, historical sites or whatever. I've got a long list of venues for it, but I thought getting photos of actual people might make for an interesting start to the campaign. It's supposed to run as a sort of series. I'll get you all the info when we're done. There's a gift card in it for you, too."

His agreement didn't go ignored of course, though she could acknowledge it with her thanks after the fact. For now, she took a few steps back. "You had the right idea, standing around like you were earlier, so just get back to that and I'll go from there!" she called out, and then her voice was replaced by the subtle sounds of her shutter clicking.

A lot.

"Yes and no," she said between clicks, a bit surprised at how much of a natural he seemed to be in front of the camera. As the saying went, the camera seemed to love him despite the lingering thought that he didn't exactly have the air of a model, or at least not if the ones she'd met so far were any indication. It would be hard to argue the fact that he looked impeccable doing whatever it was that she imagined models actually did at actual shoots.

"I like landscape most, but I try to get experience doing all of it so I don't just get shut out of certain opportunities. I can manage this kind of thing pretty well by now, so your photos'll come out fine if that's what you're worried about."

Eventually the clicking came to an end, and she straightened up and walked over to him to scroll through a few of the shots. "I'm not the type to ask a question just to flatter," she said as she clicked the button every few seconds, "but do you model on the side or something? Or was it like a dream of yours at one point, to be a model?"

"Confidence speaks louder than all of the other superficial sh– stuff, combined," she said flatly, "I'm just saying. It'll take work, sure, but if you're interested in it I think you should at least try. You might be surprised."

Once she had clicked through the last of the photos, she gave him another polite smile as she set her camera onto a clip attached to the strap of her bag, rifling through it for another pamphlet and that gift card she had mentioned. "Actually no, most people aren't all that curious about me and that suits me perfectly fine." It took her just a few seconds to pull both items out and offer them to him, her smile looking slightly more practiced now that she felt she was that much closer to finishing up her task for the day.

"The pamphlet has more information about the people heading the project, and what it's supposed to be for. If they want to use any of your photos, you'll hear from someone. There's some paperwork involved, nothing too complicated. A release form, usually. The gift card should cover a meal for one, and that's more from me just as thanks for letting me waste some of your time."

She smirked, brow quirked in a surprisingly not irritated way at him and the smile he currently had plastered on his face.

"I wasn't in a position to bully them into anything, but I don't mind paying out of pocket for some things I think are worth it," came her reply, which was the honest truth. It was bad enough she was working essentially for free—obviously her mother would reap the benefits of the work she was putting into this "favor" that was promised to whoever was in charge of this project. She didn't want anyone else that got involved because of her to also wound up with next to no compensation. A meal was the best she could reasonably do, and thankfully it seemed to be enough for the people who had agreed to the candid-esque shoot.

"In any case, I'll just take that as a compliment, then we can call this a working relationship and leave it at that."

She extended her hand, polite smile still steady on her face. "Thank you for helping me out today. It was nice to meet you..."

And she realized only then that they had never exchanged names.

"Micah."

She shook his hand, none the wiser that he'd done anything more than do the same. Her mind had already gone far ahead of her, to her lunch plans with her...date. Or, friend. Or...whatever they were. She'd never given much stock to labels until she found she suddenly had the option to apply one to the pair of them that wasn't "friend" or "enemy" or "rival" or some other simpler thing along the same line.

"Enjoy your lunch," she said, then promptly walked away, pulling her phone out to book an Uber.