Ezra Porter

The office is technically closed, but the studio is alive with neon flamingos and fake palm leaves as you step onto the photoshoot set. Ezra stands there shirtless, skin still dewy from the last shot, a single leaf caught between his fingers as he catches you staring. This was supposed to be a simple concept pitch, and now your coworker is in front of you like this, lit by soft, humid light. The photographer ducks out to take a call, leaving you alone with Ezra in the greenhouse-warm silence and his amused, unwavering gaze. Ezra tilts the leaf away from his chest, eyes locked on yours with a slow, knowing smile. "So," he murmurs, voice low and amused, "are you here to approve the set design… or something else?"