She reached deeper and pulled out a tiny pack. “This fits the old Sony kits we used at WKTB.”
“We don’t use those here,” Tilly said.
“I figured,” she murmured.
She paused, then met their eyes. “I’m not trying to step on your job. I just… know what it feels like when gear screws you over.”
Tilly hesitated. “I didn’t think you were stepping on anything.”
Her mouth tugged at the corner, something halfway to relieved.
Tilly finally found a half-charged spare wedged under a coiled cord. Savannah saw it at the same time they did.
“That one’ll last,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She stood and brushed her hands off. “Then we’re good.”
The wind picked up, scattering leaves across the pavement. Savannah tucked her hair behind her ear, annoyed but composed.
“You want me for framing?” she asked. “Or do you want to handle it?”
“You can help,” Tilly said. “If you want.”
“I do.” She stepped beside them. “I miss this part, actually.”
“What part?”
“Framing things. Seeing the picture before the picture.”
Tilly wasn’t ready for that answer. Something warm flicked in their chest before they could stop it.
They adjusted the tripod. “See the top ledge? Keep it in the upper third.”
Savannah leaned in. “Like this?”
“Yeah.”
She knew what she was doing. Her eye was sharp. She tilted her head, studying the monitor with an ease that told Tilly she wasn’t performing. She genuinely loved the work. Maybe even missed being behind the camera.
“That’s really clean,” Tilly said.
Savannah lifted her gaze. “Coming from you, that means a lot.”
Tilly looked away before they could react to that.
The council member finally emerged from the building, apologizing as if that fixed anything. Savannah straightened, reporter mask slipping into place. Confident. Focused. Experienced.
Halfway through the interview, the wind caught her hair and slapped it straight across her face. She didn’t break, just held her mic a little higher and tried to keep going.
“Hold,” Tilly said.
She froze mid-sentence, blinking hair out of her eye. “Sorry. It’s like this city is personally offended by me.”
“Step a little left.”
She moved instantly, perfect muscle memory from years of adjusting her own live shots. She stopped right where she needed to be without Tilly even touching the tripod.
