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...what's the going rate for film in a world after the end? You know only because Gully said what it is, and fuck if that chemist isn't ripping her off. Bloody highway robbery, even for something that's a luxury good.
But your answer seems to satisfy her, and she hands the camera back.
"Thanks," you say with a grin. "Let's try this again."
Your pride as an amateur photographer is on the line.
CLICK.
...you both spend what feels like hours trying to take the perfect photo.
CLICK.
...both of you end up nearly using all of her film, about thirty photos' worth.
CLICK.
...halfway through, it turns into a pissing match to see who can shoot the better photo.
CLICK.
...it gets heated.
CLICK.
To the point where you both stop giving a damn about being caught by the watch.
CLICK.
"I've seen finger paint that had more shot composition!"
CLICK.
"And I've doodled schematics that had more perspective!"
...you can't remember the last time that you were this loud with anyone you weren’t trying to fight, hurt or kill.
Halfway through arguing with Gully about slicing into the electrical grid to decrease the ambient lighting...you realize that you’re having fun. And that for all the heat and vitriol, you really don't mean any of it. Not in the remotest sincerity beyond professional pride.
And...she doesn't either. Not from the way she's grinning. Even if it's more crooked than what you’re used to.
...
...maybe it's the air.
...maybe it's the dazzling lights.
...maybe it's the fact that this high above the city, it's only the two of you, Sinleq “Razor” Unami and Yohana “Gully” Elishani, in your own little world.
...but you can't remember the last time you had this much fun with anyone.
Let alone with a woman that wasn't Caroline.
…maybe.
…just maybe.
…you’ve finally started to let her go, Caroline and thirteen years of regret.
You’re jolted out of your thoughts as Gully holds the camera up to the light, squinting at the little dial by the shutter release.
"Only one more left," she mutters.
Your gazes both turn towards the pile of photos. They wouldn't go into a pre-Cataclysm magazine, but they'd have decent enough spots over the fireplace...or a community center class about how not to take a photo. Or in Gully's case, maybe one or two might even make it into her PUEXO's cockpit. If cityscapes were her thing, and random, ant-sized passerby.
"...dammit," she curses, handing it back to you, "It's your turn."
You take it off her hands with a wry grin. "Why so serious?"
"The most important photographs in a roll are the first and the last," Gully intones, "So make it count."
(cont.)
