If Ales didn't trust her, he would have thought Lydia was humoring him. Captain. A fitting title for someone with lofty goals as himself.

He followed her instructions, standing on the second highest level of the crate pile so that he had enough to rest his hand on. He faced away from the house the boxes were piled against, with the wall of the building stretching behind him. If Lydia composed the gram right, one side of the photo would have bricks and wood while the other presented the false illusion of open sky.

"Right here." He erased that smile, though with some difficulty. This wasn't a truly serious situation, and he had a tendency to default to happiness when nothing was happening. It helped to keep people off-guard.