Rompt, Ultra realistic photograph, 35mm lens, gritty documentary style. The interior of a cramped portacabin site office on a Scottish construction site — thin grey carpet, a cheap desk buried in paperwork, site drawings and a risk-assessment clipboard pinned to the wall, two worn swivel chairs, a kettle, mugs with tea stains, a fan heater, a window looking out onto a half-built electrical substation, steel framing, transformer housings, a crane, mud, stacked cable drums, a chain-link fence and wind-blown rain. Overcast Scottish daylight, grey sky, drizzle on the glass. Sitting at the desk is a 35-year-old woman called Stacey — blonde shoulder-length hair, blue eyes, fake tan Scottish complexion, a soft curvy build with big-sized breasts under a navy site polo shirt and a hi-vis vest, black work trousers, a lanyard and a hard hat on the desk beside her. She's mid-sentence, looking across the desk at the man seated opposite her — a site worker in a hi-vis jacket and muddy boots, stubble, sleeves rolled up. The atmosphere is tense and charged, paperwork spread between them, the cabin smelling of tea and diesel. Real skin texture, visible pores, natural blemishes, harsh fluorescent overhead light mixed with flat grey window daylight, dust on every surface, ultra detailed, photographic realism, 8k.