Day jobs were boring. Not that his actual job was boring, he took pictures for a living. He loved it really. There was nothing he loved more than his spot behind the camera. In front of it, he wasn’t too fond of that position, but he rarely gave way to the opportunity to put his camera down. He hadn’t been without a camera in his hand since he was ten years old and his father had given him his first cannon. There was something about capturing moments in time, freezing people in images for the rest of days. People lied, everyone lied, hell he made his lifestyle out of lying, but photographs, they always told the truth.

But today, he wished that he didn’t have to have it glued to his eye. He was wandering the mall, often he picked up free lance jobs for the local newspaper, and they’d asked him to get candid pictures of people walking the mall, for some random fluff piece, human interest, if he was correct. He would honestly rather drive blunt pencils through his eyes than snap pictures of a bunch of bored teenagers hanging outside the hot topic store.

He should have been working on the editorial he’d been contracted. Half naked models running around the woods and splashing around in the creek sounded so much more appealing at the moment. But he’d yet to find and book any girls that he liked. He was a picky creature when it came to the girls he chose. Mostly he liked the ones that would sleep with him, but that was neither here nor there.

He headed towards the food court, his throat was scratchy and his energy was starting to dip, and since he didn’t like coffee, a soda seemed like the next best choice. He jumped in line at a random, one of many, food stands and waited his turn. He was slightly impatient in doing so, Harry didn’t like to wait. He was very much an instant gratification sort of guy. He wanted something, poof, it had better be in his hand.

He was sitting at a table, pleasantly gulping down his drink and making eyes at a group of girls sitting in a gaggle just across the room from him, when he saw an all too familiar face. A nosey reporter that worked for the newspaper that he happened to take pictures for. She had questions, and a way of poking around that didn’t make him all that comfortable. She was pleasant, for the most part as far he could tell from the scattered encounters he had with her, but he wasn’t in the mood for pushy questions about certain odd events that were taking place around these parts lately. It was a little too close for comfort lately.

He turned back around in his seat, his back to her, and pulled his camera back out, pointing in random directions, hitting the button haphhazzardly. A weak disguise, but he'd slipped by with worse.