(Untitled)

[musettasbitch]

Though it's still cold yet, Marcello can be found outside on the deck, curled up in a chair with a sketchpad and some charcoal. He's trying to draw, but the piles of paper around him show that that hasn't been very successful. He'd definitely appreciate someone to talk to -- or just to take his mind off the blank sheet of paper in front of him.

Comments

[poeta_tenore]

Rodolfo very quietly comes up behind Marcello, and leans over his shoulder to press a kiss to the painter's cheek.

"My Marcello," he muses in a light, teasing voice, "why do you look so desolate?"

[musettasbitch]

Marcello jumps a little and turns to kiss Rodolfo, with a bit of a sulky look.

"I am desolate, my Rodolfo," he replies, gesturing at his paper. "Bereft of a muse, anyway."

[poeta_tenore]

"Best not to force her to come back." Kissing back softly, he takes away Marcello's papers and sets them down. "I think a walk is in order."

[musettasbitch]

"I'd think so. Anything to get my mind off this." He stands and stretches, then runs a hand through his hair. "Where shall we go?"