(Untitled)

[musettasbitch]

Though it's still cold yet, Marcello can be found outside on the deck, curled up in a chair with a sketchpad and some charcoal. He's trying to draw, but the piles of paper around him show that that hasn't been very successful. He'd definitely appreciate someone to talk to -- or just to take his mind off the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

Comments

[poeta_tenore]

Rodolfo very quietly comes up behind Marcello, and leans over his shoulder to press a kiss to the painter's cheek.

"My Marcello," he muses in a light, teasing voice, "why do you look so desolate?"

[musettasbitch]

Marcello jumps a little and turns to kiss Rodolfo, with a bit of a sulky look.

"I am desolate, my Rodolfo," he replies, gesturing at his paper. "Bereft of a muse, anyway."

[poeta_tenore]

"Best not to force her to come back." Kissing back softly, he takes away Marcello's papers and sets them down. "I think a walk is in order."

[musettasbitch]

"I'd think so. Anything to get my mind off this." He stands and stretches, then runs a hand through his hair. "Where shall we go?"

[poeta_tenore]

Rodolfo fixes Marcello's freshly mussed hair.

"No destination in mind. Let's just walk and see where we go."

[musettasbitch]

"Alright." Marcello links his arm with Rodolfo's, then settles his hands in his pockets and gives Rodolfo a cheek kiss.

[poeta_tenore]

He pulls Marcello close to him and kisses his hair. Then he starts walking, in no particular direction, occasionally looking over at Marcello.

"Apart from your troubles with your muse, you're all right?"