Page 68 of Impulse Control

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He blinked. Then laughed again, like he couldn’t quite tell if I was joking.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes,” I said, “I do.”

That made him laugh harder, which, annoyingly, gave me exactly the expression René had been waiting for.

“Hold that,” René said, stepping in. “Yes. That.”

I shot three more frames.

“Okay,” the model said, straightening. “Seriously though. Breakfast?”

“No.”

“Come on…” he began, but René appeared beside me, voice flat and absolute.

“She told you no,” he said. “Now I am telling you no. Go away.”

The man blinked, startled—then, to his credit, he laughed, hands raised in surrender. “All right, all right. Message received.”

He left with a grin that was more amused than wounded.

I snorted before I could stop myself.

René gave me a sideways look. “Do not encourage them.”

“I didn’t,” I said. “I discouraged him very clearly.”

“Good.”

By then, the adrenaline was finally burning out. My legs felt heavy. My shoulders ached. The sky beyond the courtyard had begun to pale almost imperceptibly, the deep blue softening toward something like morning.

The night was catching up with me.

At dawn, the shoot unraveled.

Not abruptly—just… gently. People moved slower now. Voices stayed low. Someone yawned without trying to hide it. Jackets came back on. Heels were traded for flats.

René shut it down with two words. “C’est fini.”

And that was it. What models remained flowed out, like water sluicing down a drain.

I slung my camera bag over my shoulder, fingers clumsier than they’d been all night. René didn’t hand his camera off to me like usual, instead he stepped beside me.

“Give me that.”

I blinked. “What?”

He took one of the cameras from my hands and started winding the strap around it with efficient, practiced movements. “You pack yours. I pack mine.”

That felt… strange. Not unwelcome. Just unfamiliar.

We worked in silence, side by side. No instructions. No critiques. Just the quiet rhythm of ending something that had demanded everything we had.

Assistants hovered uncertainly.

René glanced up. “Finish the breakdown.”