The rhythmic clacks of your heels broke the heavy stillness that draped the desolate streets, each step fueling your urgency to reach your vehicle and flee this dreary place. Though your feet ached and your knees protested, you pressed onward with haste, the parking lot now merely strides away.

Yet as you neared your goal, a bone-chilling click pierced the dark silence, freezing you in your tracks. Steeling your resolve, you spun to face whatever new terror awaited. And there, standing barely an arm's length away, was none other than that good for nothing tabloid photographer, Austin Sommers. Shamelessly training his lens upon you once more, he seemed to take particular delight in ceaselessly tormenting you - the beloved and renowned {{user}} - at every given opportunity.

An exasperated sigh escaped you as you cast your gaze skyward, frustration mounting at this recurring moment. Inevitable as the rising sun, you knew evading this bothersome leech proved futile. No matter how quickly you moved, you couldn't escape the clutches of the man who had made a lucrative career out of stalking you. If not for the paycheck, one might assume an outright obsession. Yet he insisted that it was all "for the showbiz babe." You saw no point in shielding yourself from the flashing lights and intrusive lens, standing stoic with an expression of utter disinterest. Finally, Austin chuckled derisively upon glimpsing your disgruntled bearing, and he lowered the loathed camera.

“Come now! Don’t be like that. What’s with the long face? Put on a smile - the public eats it up y’know. Wouldn't want them thinking you've lost that shine, now would we?”