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[youngestqueen]

Lucy was looking for someone. Mr Blunt in fact. She'd finished the book on Poussin he'd written and found one he'd also written about a man called Picasso. That one had stumped her a bit, and she wanted to find him and ask him about it. It only seemed right to return the books tot he man who had written them as well

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[poetic_apostle]

The last thing Julian had expected to find when he went looking for Anthony was a little girl sitting on Anthony's bed. "...Hullo," he said, staring in confusion and just a hint of disappointment. He'd really hoped to find Anthony here.

[youngestqueen]

"Hullo!" Lucy exclaimed, finishing off her note. "Do you know Anthony? Is this where he lives?"

[poetic_apostle]

"Yes, and yes," Julian replied, his initial confusion quickly dissolving into a smile. He had no idea how this child knew Anthony or why she was here, but the very idea was vaguely amusing--and the little girl was already charming him. "But how do you know Anthony, my dear?"

[youngestqueen]

"We discuss art," Her response was entirely solemn as she carefully creased the note she had written, writing Anthony's name on the outside of it.

[poetic_apostle]

"Oh, do you now?" What an entertaining thought that was. "I discuss art with him as well." He moved to sit next to her on the bed. "What's your name?"

[youngestqueen]

"Do you? He's very knowledgeable. He's written books!" She said, again completely seriously, smiling only when she introduced herself. "I'm Lucy."

[poetic_apostle]

"So I've seen, yes." He had flipped through a few of the books the bookshelf had offered by Anthony, had even begun reading one, but he'd misplaced it, or something. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lucy. I'm Julian." He grinned at her. "So. Do you paint?"

[youngestqueen]

"Not very well, though I like drawing." She'd not drawn anything since she'd arrived. Lucy half thought she should ask the shelf for charcoals. "Do you?"

[poetic_apostle]

"Not much," Julian admitted with a chuckle. "Most of my family does, but the ability to be good at it seems to've skipped me." He smiled at her and added, "I'm a poet."

[youngestqueen]

"Are you really?" Lucy looks at him interestedly, "Like Keats?"

[poetic_apostle]

That was a new one, being compared to Keats. "Not quite like," he said, amused. "But yes."

[youngestqueen]

"I should like to hear some sometime, if that's all right?" Lucy was excited by the prospect. A real poet, here on the island! Oh how grand!

[poetic_apostle]

"Of course, though I do hope you're not expecting anything quite so good as Keats." She was a precocious child, but it was the only sort Julian had ever really known--aside from bullies, that was. He, Quentin and Angelica had all been reading from quite a young age. "I've written a few poems since I arrived, and I believe there's a book or two of mine round here in one of these piles." Of course, one of them had been published posthumously.

[youngestqueen]

"What do you write poems about?" She's truly curious now, settling in on Anthony's bed to talk to this man who seems quite lovely and wonderful. "I'd love to read them if you have them."

[poetic_apostle]

Julian stood up to pull his notebook out of his pocket. "Oh, most of them are about Nature. Birds, and trees. The English countryside, and the jungle, here."

[youngestqueen]

"That's what I like to draw," Lucy looked to the notebook with some anticipation. "And Narnia of course."