hi :V

[thelivingend]

Fish, a short and pasty-skinned young man with a wicked case of bed-head, is currently putting on public display his ability to be somehow pointy and soft at the same time, as well as his seasonal wardrobe, which can easily be summed up by the word 'overdressed'. He's sitting on a ledge bordering a garden, the stone slabs just wide enough for his

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[campjesus]

Brody has been frolicking in his natural habitat, which is to say, the seedier, darker, glitterier alleys of Xana, but he's not superhuman and even he has to tone it down eventually, which is why he's here, where he presumably can't get in any trouble. He recognises Fish right away and makes a beeline in that direction, needing constant stimulation. Apparently. His voice is too loud. "Hi!" He is, as usual, dressed like a bad idea.

He stops and puts his hands on his hips, thoughtfully. "How much would I have to pay you to draw Lady Gaga riding a unicorn?"

[thelivingend]

"Hey-" This is more of a croak than an actual greeting. A crack, even, of the voice. Suddenly, Fish is thirteen all over again. Someone hasn't spoken all day, and guess what, it is probably him.

"ah-hrmm. Hey," he repeats, and then taps both pen and pencil against his bottom lip. "I dunno, like a hundred thousand dollars. Or just two bucks, like the sign says." Dry sniff goes here. "What's up?"

[campjesus]

"The skyyyy. Sup with you? Broke or just bored?" He's just gonna flop down next to him, blowing hair out of his face as he does so and swinging his legs. Brody is more energetic than he's been in a while, which has a lot to do with the carnage he caused a few days ago, but no one has to know that. "Well, I have two dollars and that's what I want. No, wait, instead of riding it, she's fighting it... no, wait! She IS riding it, but it's not a unicorn, it's a sharkicorn!" Why does anyone let him speak. Or have ideas. "I guess that's just a narwhal with teeth though."

[thelivingend]

Fish is mentally chalking it up to Brody having consumed his body weight in sugar, or something, even though the kid already told him he was the non-food-eating kind of undead ages ago. He has a Swiss cheese memory sometimes, it's a problem.

"I'm on it." That is no lie: he's already sketching, as of right now. "And, um, I dunno. I'm not broke, but I get griped at for doing freebies so I'm tryin' to make a habit of... not. Doing it. Should she have the Coke cans in her hair? This is gonna look like nothing, by the way."

[campjesus]

"Yeah, I think the Telephone look is the most appropriate sharkicorn-riding gear. Why wear pants if they're just gonna get wet." Brody digs around on his person and produces two dollars (don't... ask from where, he doesn't carry a wallet), which he daintily deposits. "That makes sense though. Giving too many freebies makes you feel crappy. Well, it makes me feel crappy." He beams a little vaguely.

[thelivingend]

"Yeah, me too. I mean, I like giving people stuff as much as the next guy, but it makes you feel kinda cheap, right?" He is basically talking to the paper right now; it's how he likes it. Eye contact is for suckas-except briefly, after he watches the cash drop into his hat, when he looks up at Brody and smiles the tiniest smile. Well, the smile happens on the way back down again, but still. "Thanks, dude. I'll be done in a sec... no erasing, that's today's challenge. I mean, not... except where stuff overlaps, or it'll look, like... lame..." Words are hard.

[campjesus]

"Right! And like, if you give one freebie to someone you like, then everyone you don't like is all sniffing around begging for one too, and you're like, oh my God chill out, I still have standards." ... maybe that part's just him. He leeeeans over to peek at Fish's work, then leans back. He trusts his ability to draw a totally bitchin' picture, he's just curious about the process. "Well, I won't tell anyone if you do. Keep it secret, keep it safe."

[thelivingend]

"You just made a wizard joke." He sounds like he's going to laugh, here, but miraculously does not.

Thus far, Fish's artistic process seems to be LINES, ALL THE LINES EVER, and tilting his head a lot, and showing his teeth when he draws the shark's mouth, because... teeth. He's a method artist, okay. Finally, he is finished, which actually means he gives up on the damn thing before he can overwork it or really mess it up.

"Here. This's as good as it's getting..." It looks something like this.

[campjesus]

His mouth drops open. For a moment it looks like he's going to cry but he did that on purpose to be melodramatic. "It's perfect. I'm going to frame it and put it in the foyer. ... and if we don't have a foyer, I'm going to just... shove it in the face of anyone who walks in." Don't assault your house guests! They rarely return.

[thelivingend]

"You should get it tattooed on your body." No you shouldn't. "Your whole body. The entire thing." Shut up.

Slowly, Fish pulls the page free, taking care not to rip it, pauses to rub a little glue off the top edge and then hands it over. "Go ahead and fold it if you gotta, I won't be offended or whatever." He's kind of deflecting, but given how sparkly his eyes are right now (he is basically an anime), Brody's reaction has him thoroughly tickled.

[campjesus]

"Oh my gosh," did he just say 'gosh'? "I could totally do that. Like, literally... you shouldn't encourage me." He actually could and it wouldn't even be permanent, but Harvestman would make a face. Easy would laugh, though. Maybe he should do it.

He's not sure what to do with it, so he rolls it up instead. He can carry it in his pants or his boot or something. "No! It can't have creases. What if you get super famous and it's worth like a million dollars and I have to have it framed in the... sports bar that I... totally own in this hypothetical situation so I can tell people 'yeah, I knew that guy'? What then?"

[thelivingend]

"Thennn I'll draw you a better one, 'cause... if I'm famous, I hope I can do better than that." Oh, Fish.

This is usually when he'd take a drag, but he isn't actually holding a cigarette. The habit is so strong, though, that he actually lifts his hand toward his face, and... very smoothly... and not awkwardly at all... turns it into a little rubbing-his-lips gesture instead. He has an itch, I tell you. An itch. On his lips. It's gone now, you saw nothing.

"So, hey, tell me a story, starring you, and your recent adventures n'at."

[campjesus]

"Psssh, like you can improve upon perfect." He punctuates that with a dramatic flourish.

A beat. "Um."

He has to pause for a little too long to think of something that's G-rated. Or at least PG-rated. Or at least interesting instead of depressing, which his stories tend to be lately. "Well, a friend of mine adopted a baby turtle. It's about..." He holds his hands not terribly far apart. "This big and it eats fruits. When it walks it kind of wiggles its tiny legs like this," he demonstrates with his ostensibly not so tiny arms, "and if you poke it it hides in its shell. It'll also chew your fingers if you hold still. He named it Harvestman Jr."

[thelivingend]

"Oh man, I fuckin' love turtles." Enjoy this combo of youthful sincerity and profanity, world. "...Wait, didn't Harvestman vanish or something? Is he back now?" Yeah, he stalks the network, he just doesn't usually have anything to say. shh.

[campjesus]

Brody pauses to squint at his shoes and pick at the fabric of whatever is passing as pants for him today. "Yeah, he came back, he's fine." There is a lot more to that story that he evidently doesn't feel like sharing.

[thelivingend]

Yay, awkward. "Oh, well... good. People do that a lot around here, I guess. Myself included." Jazzhands are appropriate for this situation, right? Hopefully, because he's doing them right now, a little. Yaaay, vanishing.