“Now who could that be at this hour?” Anton said to no one in particular, upon hearing the doorbell ring. Licorice was a non-participant as she was dozing by the window, the same window where she had made good her escape not that long ago. Strange, as the hall was empty when he opened the door. There was, however, a bag swinging from his doorknob.<br/><br/>He brought the bag inside, and with not a soul to thank for its contents, he just glanced at his slumbering cat. To her credit, Licorice somehow managed to open an eye to see what all the commotion was about. Said eye, sadly, did not remain open for long. He had his suspicions as to who the guilty party was in this clear hit-and-run scenario.<br/><br/>Extracting the contents from the bag, his hunch was proved correct. Stella, he thought, since no one that he knew could ever come up with a treat such as the one he was staring at. The ingredients alone eliminated just about everyone he knew. None of his friends, for example, had a clue as to what brie was. And then there was the case of the baguette. He was confident they would not take the time to toast a baguette, let alone be able to spell it. Anton smiled at the thought, placing the sandwich back into the bag. He’d have to eat it on his way to the agency, as he was already running late.<br/><br/>A pair of vans would transport people from the modelling agency across the state for outdoor photo shoots. He wasn’t sure what was to be modelled, but the man in charge wanted a particular picturesque backdrop. As far as he was aware, in addition to the photographer and various staff members, there was only to be one other model, a female. Anton hoped and prayed it wasn’t about swimsuits.<br/><br/>He would have to thank Stella for the treat via text later, since he had the dreaded phone number. Smiling, he made a quick mental note to stop referring to it as<i>the dreaded phone number. </i>Not trusting himself, he’d probably choose a most inopportune time to blurt that phrase out in the company of the number’s owner.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">&gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt; &gt;&lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt; &lt;​</div><br/>Rolling out of his hotel bed the next morning, Anton made sure to text Stella now, before heading downstairs to have breakfast with everyone. His thanks for the delectable breakfast sandwich was a tad tardy, thankfully just not too late, as he ate it yesterday. Phone now on and ready, he began,<br/><br/><i>Stella,</i><br/><br/><i>First off, thank you tons for the delicious surprise. That was quite sneaky of you. Apologies for my late gratitude, but I am currently in a hotel room, across the state, on a photo shoot. And don’t worry about Lics. I left her an extra bowl of water and there’s no way she’s gonna even get half way through the amount of food I left her. Should be back sometime late Thursday, early Friday. Weather’s cooperating, as it’s an outdoor shoot. So that’s good.</i><br/><br/><i>What’s the shoot about, I can just about hear you ask? Get this, wedding stuff. Ugh! Suits and tuxedos for me; gowns of all shapes and sizes for her. Yeah, it’s just me and Magdalene as models, so it’s kinda time-consuming. Changing clothes is a pain; I can only imagine what it’s like for her. Then there are the poses they want us to do. Y’know, the traditional kind where I’m next to her, with no space in between us, and we’re looking at the camera.</i><br/><br/><i>Those aren’t so bad. The ones where we have to look into each other’s eyes as if it’s the first day of the rest of our lives. You know the kinda crap I’m talking about. Those are the really tough ones. Like, a smirk would crease the side of my mouth and she’d start laughing, or the other way around. Other times, we’d both start laughing with no provocation. Of course, then I’d make googly eyes at her, and well, another waste of film. Let me put it this way: If this were a movie set, we woulda heard CUT! at least eight times. Magdalene and I have already been scolded four times. It’s no wonder they haven’t sent us to go sit in the corner.</i><br/><br/><i>All right, that’s enough shop talk from me. I’d best get downstairs and meet the crew for breakfast. I don’t think they’re gonna let me and Magdalene sit next to each other, not until the shoot is in the can, or some nonsense like that.</i><br/><br/><i>See you Saturday,</i><br/><br/><i>Anton</i><br/><br/>After tapping<b>SEND</b>, he headed downstairs. He was hoping to be back home by Thursday, but with outdoor sessions, he also knew they were at the mercy of Mother Nature. Always.