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Finally!
Anson finally noticed something was wrong, realizing that the situation wasn't quite right.
He quickly stood up and took another look, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and dragging him out of the cramped wardrobe. At last, Anson could see Harry's leg, which was stiff and unbendable, looking almost like a wooden pirate's leg.
After some effort, Harry's leg slowly regained feeling. The numbness and pain gradually subsided like a receding tide. He collapsed onto a chair, drenched in sweat, his hair soaked through, gasping for breath as his chest heaved, almost ready to burst.
Why did it feel like he had just escaped death?
Was this normal?
Harry glanced at Anson, his mind a chaotic mess. His vision was unfocused, and his thoughts scattered like an air raid siren blaring in his head, unable to find clarity or regain his bearings. When he tried to speak, he realized his throat was unbearably dry, like a desert.
Yet, his body kept sweating, and a sense of dehydration-induced panic caused his heart to race as his pupils darted around, searching for something to hold onto.
*Who am I, where am I, and what am I doing?*
"Uh…" Harry tried to find his voice, but nothing came out.
He was even more stunned when Anson handed him a bottle of water and a chocolate bar.
Anson smiled, "Looks like you need to replenish some sugar."
In a daze, Harry took the water and chocolate, and without thinking, he unwrapped the chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth. The pounding in his temples gradually subsided, and a sense of gravity slowly returned to his veins.
Leaning against the sink, Anson crossed his long legs and looked at Harry, "So, are you satisfied with the photos you just took?"
Harry: …
The atmosphere felt strange, almost like he was sitting on that warm, comfortable couch on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" for an interview. Was this normal?
Harry felt a bit dazed.
Anson didn't seem to mind Harry's silence. He casually opened a bag of chips, tossed a couple into his mouth, and continued, "It's such a rare nice day, don't you think? A perfect day for taking pictures. So, how long were you hiding in that wardrobe—fifteen minutes? An hour? It's a tough job."
Unconsciously, Harry took another sip of water, his nerves relaxing slightly.
Anson's calm and gentle tone continued, "With such hard work, what kind of photos would make the effort worthwhile? You know, Peter is also a photographer. He works tirelessly to capture exclusive shots that no one else can get, but the newspaper only offers him two hundred dollars."
"Two hundred dollars, my God."
"So, what does he need to photograph to earn some respect?"
Harry hesitated slightly, but seeing Anson's relaxed posture and sincere eyes, he spoke without thinking, "The suit? An exclusive shot of you in the Spider-Man suit."
Anson nodded in understanding. "Makes sense."
"Not just exclusive, but explosive."
This wasn't a one-on-one between Anson and a paparazzo; it was journalist-to-journalist—Peter Parker had aspired to be a photojournalist, after all. Anson fully put himself in the shoes of the man before him, making this more of a peer-to-peer exchange than an interview. The atmosphere naturally shifted.
"However, didn't you watch today's shoot? It had nothing to do with Spider-Man, so Peter didn't need to wear the suit. There's none in the trailer."
Everything felt very natural.
Harry was pulled in. "Who knows? Maybe it's like Superman—he looks like he's just wearing a suit, but underneath, it's a costume. Maybe Spider-Man is the same?"
Muttering complaints, Harry knew it was unlikely. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a light sigh.
"I know, I know. I'm just holding onto a tiny bit of hope."
"But it's okay if it's not true. Pictures of Anson having a secret rendezvous with Kristen, pictures of Anson fighting with James, pictures of Anson changing clothes, or even pictures of Anson arguing with the director—any of these would work."
"As long as it's sensational enough, it'll have the same effect."
He kept all possibilities open.
Anson didn't have much of a reaction and instead continued the discussion, "But Anson is just a nobody right now. Even if you capture those photos, they probably won't be worth much, right?"
Harry shook his head repeatedly. "Ha, you can tell you're a rookie just by that."
"Now that Anson has become Spider-Man, his value has changed. He can't be considered a nobody anymore; he's the lead actor in a big commercial movie."
"As long as you're the lead in a commercial blockbuster, it doesn't matter if no one has heard of your name before. You're valuable now."
"And even if it's not valuable at the moment, you can keep it for later. Let it age, and it might skyrocket in value in the future."
"What's more important is that exclusive photos don't necessarily need to be published to be valuable. You can choose to trade them. Top-tier stars' agents and PR teams are very willing to exchange photos for photos, secrets for secrets. The uses for these exclusive photos are much broader than you might imagine."
"They can totally be used as a kind of universal currency."
Harry rambled on and on.
When it came to his profession, Harry immediately became fluent, his eyes brightening up. The confusion from earlier was gone.
He took on the posture of a senior mentoring a junior, with his words unintentionally revealing a shrewd and sharp edge.
Then, suddenly, an emergency brake.
Harry was stunned.
When he looked at Anson again, his eyes were full of shock and disbelief. His brain stopped working, unable to process what had just happened.
Wait, they were discussing Anson, but who was he discussing Anson with?
"You. You!"
Something was wrong, very, very wrong.
It was as if they were in an interview, but the roles of interviewer and interviewee were switched. Of the two people in the RV, he should have been the reporter, right?
Moreover, even if the roles were reversed, why was it that whatever Anson asked, he obediently answered? The private gossip just spilled out of him. For a paparazzo, this kind of heart-to-heart confession was about as deep as it gets.
Harry stared blankly at Anson, his face full of terror, while the chocolate was still melting in his mouth—
So, what exactly had just happened?
Anson noticed Harry's expression but didn't mind at all. He looked like he had an epiphany and gently lifted his chin. "Looks like I was too shortsighted."
Anson took half a step forward and extended his right hand, just like a rookie photographer, Peter Parker, meeting a seasoned paparazzo. He gave a smile. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me—Wood, Anson Wood."
Harry: …
Dazed and confused, Harry also extended his right hand and shook Anson's firmly, like he was under a spell, and instinctively responded, "Harry-Pesci."
Anson raised his eyebrow slightly. "Pesci? The 'Kevin!' Pesci?"
"Kevin" is from the most iconic scene in "Home Alone," where someone yells the name in shock, while a montage switches to Kevin's image. The little blonde kid with blue eyes uses his father's aftershave, slapping it on his face and screaming, in a cleverly edited sequence—
A movie moment.
And few people know that in "Home Alone," the head burglar named "Harry" was played by Joe Pesci, who won an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.
So… Harry? Pesci?
Isn't there any association?