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[makemaps]

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel. 3 North was weird enough but here I am, somewhere even fucking weirder. Apparently, somewhere around here, there's a guy who's, like, my mirror image or something. I've been accidentally hit on by a guy, thrown up on about three people, got a sunburn, got high. So it's a mixed bag

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[highf]

The rec room has interesting people, I've found. Of course, if you're lucky enough to run into someone by the stage, usually they'll turn out to be a bit more dynamic or what have you, people after my own heart. But there are a few hoops that those in the rec room jump through as well, an ability to tolerate the jukebox in spite of its occasionally cruel song selections. To step by the bookshelf in spite of knowing that what it presents might be, at best, frustrating in its unattainability, and at worst, flat-out traumatizing. It's a place for people of vivid imaginations and durable skin, so when I spot someone sketching away on the table, I round him just closely enough to catch a glimpse.

I'm not disappointed. It's no portrait of Audrey Hepburn, but a map is a bit like starting another world from scratch, isn't it?

"From memory?" I ask, with a slightly sheepish look at having glanced without permission.

[makemaps]

It takes me a moment to realise that he's speaking to me. Sometimes, I just kind of get wrapped up in my own little world for a bit, stuck in what ever I'm doing, and it takes me a moment or two to come back. I look up, pencil still in hand and clear my throat.

Come on, Soldier! Focus!

"Uh, no..." I say, shaking my head. "I...make it up as I go."

[highf]

All at once, I wonder if it was really right for me to interrupt him in the middle of drawing. Sometimes, you get so deep into the art that having someone pull you out is, well, disconcerting. I know that the few times I've interrupted Rachel while she was on a roll have been interesting, to say the least, and although this guy doesn't look like he's half as likely to chew me out for it, that doesn't mean that I should pay any less respect to him for what he's doing. So, I offer an apologetic smile.

"That's really neat," I say first, because... well, it is. It deserves to be acknowledged. For all that I love stories and whimsy on stage, writing and carving the world is another thing entirely. "Sorry if I disturbed you. I don't want to throw you off the drawing or anything, I was simply curious. You know." I shrug, hoping that I'm not making things worse.

[makemaps]

"You didn't throw me off," I say, looking at it for a long moment. It's missing something, but I don't quite know what it is, yet. I turn the drawing all the way around, still looking at it. I look at him.

"Seriously. I don't care. I ought to be talking to more people instead of feeling fucked up."

[highf]

"Feeling..."

It's not really my place to pry. Also not really language that I'd use unless absolutely necessary, but at this point, I figure that if anything deserves a string of expletives, it's probably the island. Really. Even from just hearing a load of stories, I know that this place screws people over on a rather frequent basis, and part of me is just bracing for the day that it takes a more direct attack at me.

Then again, it's also possible that he's thinking of something else entirely, and while he's perfectly within his right to turn me away, I figure that offering a listening ear probably can't hurt much.

"Well, if you need to talk to people about it, I'm all ears."

[makemaps]

I think about a conversation that I had earlier. Shift a little in my chair. He seems okay, kind of quiet. There's nothing about him that's stressing me out, so, maybe, it's the place to start?

I clear my throat and move the map.

"Can I draw you? I...like...don't know if you need to hear about my shit but I need all the practise that I can get."

[highf]

I feel my thoughts come to a halt. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know that I can make myself look good, and I question anyone at either McKinley or Dalton who cares claim to have a better fashion sense than yours truly. But that's still a far cry from having someone flat-out try to draw me. I suppose I should take it as a compliment. Or take it nothing at all; I mean, clearly, he doesn't have issues drawing, so maybe he's just looking for an interesting face, rather than necessarily a handsome one. Either way, it's up to me to decide whether or not I'm comfortable with it, right now, in spite of hardly knowing the guy, and in the end, the answer is-

"Sure. I... mean, yeah, why not? Practice away," I say, my smile widening a bit, before it falters out of hesitation. "Do you need me to pose, or are you looking for a particular emotion? I've got fifty-six expressions. Song reference."

[makemaps]

"Uh. Okay." I have got, like, the worst head for song lyrics in the world. Like, you know that guy who ends up singing everything with made up words at a concert? Totally me. I bite my lip for a moment, thinking abotu it.

"You could just...sit. Any way that you think's comfortable."

[highf]

"Well I don't- actually, maybe I can quickly grab a book?" I suggest, offering an apologetic smile as I quickly rise to my feet and walk right over to the bookshelf, tugging down a thick volume, not paying too much attention to what it is. The problem isn't having an audience. The problem comes with the fact that I have no idea how to be in an audience without performing, and unless this is meant to be like taking a school portrait, then I have no idea how to pose for something that's meant to pass off as high art. I guess the point is, I don't know what he means by comfortable.

I assume that reading is the closest I can get to it.

I sit myself back down, giving him a brief smile before I open the thick text. Jane Austen, all of her novels, all jammed in one volume. Figures. The smile fading from my face somewhat, I decide to start with Persuasion.

[makemaps]

I wait while he arranges himself, sorting out my sketch-pad. I've never really thought about how to draw a person before, but I suppose it's like anything. I just have to look at him for long enough to break down into parts. I tilt my head and bite my lip.

I make my first line. Then another.
It's easy after that.

[highf]

As I suspected, staying still while his pencil scratches across the paper is... pretty difficult. I keep on noticing things, like an itch on my nose, or the way the jukebox keeps on threatening us with music. Once or twice, I glance up at the guy, although I guess fortunately, he always seems to have his gaze on the paper. If there's one thing that's pretty clear from this, it's that I would make an awful art model. Now and again, I keep on shifting my legs to keep them from falling asleep, and the silence is just so permeating that eventually, I find myself blurting out-

"So, what's your name?" My gaze still remains on the book. "Seems like if you're going to do a portrait of me, I should at least know the name of the talented artist."

[makemaps]

Shit. I totally didn't introduce myself, did I? He's starting to take shape on the page in front of me, and I find myself kind of flustered because, yeah, I did that, and, yeah, it actually works. I can draw like this. And...I've got to kind of wonder where it's been my whole life? How hard did I have to step on this to forget it was there altogether.

"Uh," I say, embarrassed, and so sure I'm blushing, even though the air-con keeps it pretty cool in here. "I'm Craig? Craig Gilner." I bite my lip. "You're doing great, by the way."

[highf]

I've gone and made him nervous again. Great. I mean, I'm pretty sure that it's just nerves- there was once a time when I might have read way too much into a blush, but these days, it's kind of the last thing on my mind. Or, at least, the last thing that I want to have on my mind. So the key is really to find some way to make sure that he doesn't bolt, I guess, before he finishes the picture. He looks like he's having a fun enough time drawing that I don't really want to put him off in any way.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Craig," I smile, shaking my head. "I'm Kurt Hummel, and really, it's all you right now. All I'm doing is reading a book. Do this everyday for school."

[makemaps]

"It's pretty hard sitting like that," I say, going back to sketching, glancing up at him between lines to make sure that I'm actually getting him right. You can't actually trust your mind's eye a lot of the time. Not with a lot of things.

...I'm pretty sure I could draw Noelle from memory.

"You're like, my first person. So just. Promise not to hate me if it doesn't actually look like you, okay?"

[highf]

"I'm pretty sure that an artist is just supposed to claim artistic license if the product doesn't look much like the muse," I point out with a raise of my brow. I get it, of course. Drawing another person can't be easy. I've never been one for the visual arts quite as much as the performing, but I've certainly taken my fair share of art classes over the years, and trying to draw just about any portrait- even using a photograph for inspiration- is about one of the most difficult tricks in the book.

"Which is to say that so long as you don't draw me looking like Ann Coulter, I'm pretty sure you're fine."

[makemaps]

"I'm pretty sure you have to be an artist to claim artistic license," I say, raising my own eyebrow in return and smirking at him. I smudge a line with the pad of my thumb. Maybe some of this is part instinct. I huff a laugh and shake my head.

"Jesus Christ. If you end up looking like that, I've really fucked up."