[Saffron/Helen]
Vincent had never been particularly concerned about the up keep of his hut. He was just one man, and it never mattered if his clothes were strewn across the floor or if there were papers scattered across the measly pieces of furniture. It may have smelled a little, may have been cramped and even possibly give the impression of someone who was trying to light the room brightly as well as keep it swallowed in darkness. The ends result, strangely enough, was to have an odd dimness cast through out the interior.
Any other day Vincent would hardly have cared. Even today, he wasn't overly concerned. But as the case may be, he was expecting company, and he knew if there was going to be a woman in his home for any amount of time then it would only be right to ensure she was comfortable. He'd tidied up. The clothes were stuffed in a corner, the papers relocated and the false curtains parted for lighting. He set up the paints, placed a chair near the bed and brought a pitcher of water from the compound. He then sat on his bed with legs crossed for the better part of twenty minutes, absently counting down the amount of time he supposed it would take for Helen to arrive. She was petite, but she was at least half legs so he assumed her time would be good.
He wondered if he should have tucked in his shirt. Self consciously, he adjusted the straps of his braces and tried to smooth out a few wrinkles from his sleeves.
It was always so much less complicated when his models were paid for their time. As long as they received the right amount, you could always count on them coming back and the time being well spent.
He glanced at his pipe on the other side of the room and hoped she wouldn't mind if he smoked.
Any other day Vincent would hardly have cared. Even today, he wasn't overly concerned. But as the case may be, he was expecting company, and he knew if there was going to be a woman in his home for any amount of time then it would only be right to ensure she was comfortable. He'd tidied up. The clothes were stuffed in a corner, the papers relocated and the false curtains parted for lighting. He set up the paints, placed a chair near the bed and brought a pitcher of water from the compound. He then sat on his bed with legs crossed for the better part of twenty minutes, absently counting down the amount of time he supposed it would take for Helen to arrive. She was petite, but she was at least half legs so he assumed her time would be good.
He wondered if he should have tucked in his shirt. Self consciously, he adjusted the straps of his braces and tried to smooth out a few wrinkles from his sleeves.
It was always so much less complicated when his models were paid for their time. As long as they received the right amount, you could always count on them coming back and the time being well spent.
He glanced at his pipe on the other side of the room and hoped she wouldn't mind if he smoked.