Danielle snapped a few photos of the buildings across the street from the coastal areas and piers before turning to get one more shot of the captain conversing with a few of his subordinates. She snapped a picture but the next was interrupted by someone photobombing the shot. Her heart sank when she saw who the photobomber was. It was that one sailor from below deck. That son of a bitch, she said to herself, for she did not dare to say it to his face in earshot of visitors of all ages. A photographer, unlike a videographer, could say things out loud without fear that it will be picked up and recorded. Professional, this wasn't the time or place to insult a moron, even if he was a moronic prick.<br/><br/>When he asked for the photo that she took downstairs, Danielle responded, calmly, knowing the environment she was in. Plus, the guy wasn't being a prick like last time when he asked for her pictures. "What is it to you? It's just a picture of a sailor. I'm allowed to take photos up here," she explained. "I didn't do anything wrong, mister."