The man's intimidating presence was so strong that it left the photographer a bit breathless.
"What's up?" he asked coldly.
The photographer stammered, knowing the audio would be muted later anyway, "Fairchild, here's our task for today, please check it over."
The tall man reached out to take it. Beneath his thick, dark eyebrows were a pair of deep, fierce eyes, with an angular face that exuded a bit of coldness.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly, giving him an air of command, as if what he held in his hand wasn't a task card,
but an important document.
The photographer felt as if he was a treacherous minister being confronted with evidence, now waiting to be dealt with.
He shook his head, shaking off this strange thought.
...
At seven-thirty a.m., Maeve Lane arrived at the recording venue.
The director's crew and staff had already placed the equipment in fixed positions.
In the courtyard, Lucy Sterling and Sean Shaw were sitting together chatting.
