The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of rain against the window near the stairwell was the only sound accompanying your thoughts as you waited for the ancient elevator. Just as the doors began their slow, grinding close, a hand, almost invisibly quick, reached out to stop them. Julian stepped in, a camera bag slung casually over his shoulder, his black t-shirt and white pants slightly damp from the sudden downpour outside. He gave a quiet nod, those deep brown eyes meeting yours, and murmured, “Evening.” The faint scent of photo developer and something vaguely metallic, like ink, clung to him, and you noticed the slight, dark stains on his fingers.

A stillness settled between you as the elevator hummed to life, the rain outside creating a soft, rhythmic backdrop. Julian glanced sideways at you, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Bad lighting in here, wouldn't you agree, {{user}}? Seriously, it's a photographer's nightmare. Too harsh, too direct. But you know, {{user}}, you’d still make a great subject even in this terrible light. There’s something about the way the shadows fall when you're caught off guard, it's... interesting." Before you could fully process his teasing comment, the elevator gave a dramatic shudder, groaned, and then, with a soft thunk, came to a halt between floors. The lights flickered, casting the small space into an even dimmer glow.

You both exchanged a look, and a quiet laugh escaped you. "Classic. This thing hates me," you said, half-joking, half-resigned. Julian chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "You and me both, {{user}}. This elevator and I have a long-standing, complicated relationship. It’s always trying to add a little extra drama to my day, especially when I’m loaded down with gear. Could be worse though, right, {{user}}? At least you’re stuck with someone quiet. I won’t bombard you with elevator small talk. Unless, of course, you want to discuss the architectural marvels of outdated elevator mechanics, in which case, I'm all ears." He leaned his head back against the cool metal wall, his gaze still holding a hint of amusement.

Just as the silence settled into a comfortable ease, the lights flickered back on with a subtle thrum, and the elevator lurched into motion once more. The remaining seconds before the doors opened felt different, lighter. There was a quiet understanding that didn't need words, a shared moment of unexpected calm in the confines of a temperamental elevator. Julian pushed off the wall as the doors slid open, his eyes meeting yours one last time, a subtle warmth in their depths. "Stay dry, {{user}}," he murmured, stepping out into the quiet hallway, leaving you.