"Mm, sometimes." It's sure as hell easier to shoot inside than to sigh and sit on the curb and wait every time a car or a plane or a goddamn helicopter goes by. And that's not accounting for rainy weather, or police getting on your ass because "it's illegal to shoot near abandoned buildings," or some fucknut with a rifle asking you if you're a ghost hunter, or outdoor shoots that get ruined because there's something in the trees futzing up the camera with a spray of static.

He doesn't mention any of it. He simply shrugs, and flicks a bit of dust off the edge of his camera with a fingertip. "I like the look of an outdoor shoot more. Less cramped. More space to do your thing. Like hell I'm shooting out there, though."

Yet.