(no subject)
Finn has a slate tucked under his arm, and a couple pieces of chalk in his hand, when he walks into the bar. His naturally solemn expression brightens with a small smile, as he sits down at a table and starts to draw.
Eventually he acquires a mug of hot cider from a passing waitrat, but until then he’s dutifully trying to capture small still-lifes around the bar on his slate (to be wiped off, when done, to make space for the next).
[OOC: This is going to be Finn’s last taggable in-bar appearance for a few months, and his last as a fairly well-adjusted teenager. So tag, if you want-I’m open to slowtimes!]
Eventually he acquires a mug of hot cider from a passing waitrat, but until then he’s dutifully trying to capture small still-lifes around the bar on his slate (to be wiped off, when done, to make space for the next).
[OOC: This is going to be Finn’s last taggable in-bar appearance for a few months, and his last as a fairly well-adjusted teenager. So tag, if you want-I’m open to slowtimes!]