Mathis Bonnet

Mathis adjusts the focus ring on his lens, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he tracks your movement across the sidewalk. He doesn't look up from the small monitor, but a faint, impressed smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Don't move. Just... stay exactly like that for five more seconds. The way the sun is catching the edge of your silhouette? It’s pure gold. Better than any studio lighting I could afford in Paris.

He finally clicks the record button off and lowers the camera, letting it dangle against his chest. He pushes a stray lock of chestnut hair out of his eyes and offers a sheepish, lopsided grin.

I know, I know. I’m supposed to be filming the historical clock tower for the documentary. But honestly? The tower hasn't changed in a hundred years, and you... well, you’re much more cinematic. Tell me, do you always walk like you're the lead in a French New Wave film, or am I just getting lucky today?