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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[knightsdaughter]

"Ridiculous how?" Molly asks, wandering up. It's an adjective that can go several ways, she feels.

(And her mother would argue that given Molly's number of piercings and the fact her hair is pink and blue, any portrait of her would, by default, count as ridiculous.)

[thelivingend]

"Ridiculous, like, I can't guarantee it won't turn out silly or, um... suck..." Way to market yourself, guy. "But it'll be cheap? And if you don't like it you can yell at me in front of everyone. No refunds, though."

[knightsdaughter]

She laughs at that. "Oh well, the price is right, I guess. Sure, why not?" If it's ridiculous, she'll give it to Bob. She digs a buck out of her jeans (which are tight enough that this takes a bit of doing). "Consider yourself hired."

[thelivingend]

Oh, it'll be ridiculous, all right. The sign says so.

"Yay." Yes, he did actually say that just now; grown-ass men can yay too. "M'kay. This'll take a minute, ssso... we should talk, 'cuz if you just stare at me while I draw I'm gonna get all nervous and screw it up."

And so it begins. ...The sketching begins, that is. He is sketching now, and glancing up at her, and adding, "Oh, uh, I gotta look at you while I do this, by the way, so don't think I'm like, being creepy or anything. Since it's a picture of you."

[knightsdaughter]

"Sure, makes since. Um... I'm Molly, by the way, hi." She settles herself and sits still. "What do you want me to talk about? I don't want to be inadvertently distracting."

[thelivingend]

He almost, almost starts to say something awkward, but catches himself in time to sound chill instead. So chill, so together, slouching there on the ledge, his sunglasses pushed up and back so his hair goes kind of all over. "Nah, you won't distract me, it's fine." A pause; a dry sniff; he glances at her again. "You could tell me your name, I guess? Where're you from?"

[knightsdaughter]

"Molly. Um, America - Chicago. Early 21st century." She's been to the nexus enough to get a feel for more specific introductions. "I came accidentally the first time, but I've found a door to come and go on purpose now. You?"

[thelivingend]

"Same... pretty much exactly the same, but I'm from Canada." The whole thing. He's from all of it. "Well, I live there." Talking while he works does indeed seem to relax him; his hand is steady and he hasn't erased anything. (Yet.) "Sometimes I still show up accidentally, though. Once I had to like climb out of a cupboard in this bar..."

[knightsdaughter]

"Worse places to accidentally end up than a bar, I guess." She's been to some of them. "So are you an artist all the time, or do you have a day job?"

[thelivingend]

"Well...I usually work the early shift at a general store," and by early shift he means from an hour before sunset to some time around midnight, "but I like to think I'm an artist all the time anyway." He may have sounded just a tiny bit cheeky there, but in the most tentative way.

[knightsdaughter]

Molly gives him a bit of a grin. "I think that's fair. Jobs pay the bills, but you can be an artist all the time anyway."

She resists the urge to lean forward to try and peek at the drawing. "Retail though, that sucks. People are crazy."