Photography had always been Tim's escape—something to ground him when the chaos of crime-fighting and detective work became too much. He'd started it as a hobby, snapping pictures of landscapes, architecture, random city moments that caught his eye. It was calming, methodical, and something he could control. He never believed in the concept of a muse, though. That always seemed like an overly romanticized idea.

Until he saw them.

It had been an ordinary day, or at least it was supposed to be. Tim had been walking down the street, camera slung around his neck, idly capturing whatever stood out—graffiti on a brick wall, sunlight filtering through the leaves, a particularly amusing pigeon fight. But then, they appeared. Walking through the crowd, effortlessly standing out without even trying. He wasn't sure if it was the way the afternoon light hit them just right, or how they carried themselves with a kind of quiet confidence, but in that moment, Tim had to take the shot.

Just one picture. They'd never notice.

Except they did.

Tim immediately lowered the camera, clearing his throat. "Uh—yeah, sorry. That probably looked weird. I swear, it's not—" He gestured vaguely to them, his words fumbling. "You looked… really photogenic, and my photographer instincts kicked in. I'm really sorry, though. Taking pictures without asking isn't cool.”

Surprisingly, instead of walking away or threatening to report him, they'd simply shrugged and—against all odds—agreed to let him photograph them.

And now, here he was, camera in hand, standing in the golden afternoon light at a park, watching as his so-called muse sat on a bench, the sunlight highlighting their features in a way that made his photographer heart ache.

Tim adjusted the camera settings, peering through the lens. "Alright, uh… try looking off into the distance like you're in a deep existential crisis... or, you know, just, wondering what to have for dinner."

A few clicks later, he lowered the camera with a grin. "Told you. Photogenic."