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

Comments

[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."

[dangleangle]

Jensen has the habit of approaching everybody, so skin chewing and spacing out is not at all a deterrent. He has only spoken to Fish before via text and all he knows of what the man looks like comes from a photo of his hands. He is currently wearing this shirt and approaches Fish and the cardboard with his usual good humor.

"I hope you take American money. Fresh out of Xana bux."

[thelivingend]

"I will take all of the moneys." Yes, that is exactly how he says it. Two dollars already lie in his cap, and they even happen to be American dollars, unless Brody makes a habit of carrying around non-US currency all the time. Maybe he does, we don't know.

Anyway, look, he is holding a pencil, and sticking the pen behind his ear...or, well, presumably there's an ear in there, it's sort of obscured by this crazy hair he's got going here. "What can I do for ya?"

[dangleangle]

"I was hoping for a picture of me, amigo," he says as he reaches into his wallet and withdraws a one dollar bill. "And since the theme of the day is dinos, if you could make the picture include me disco dancing with one that would be pretty sweet."

[thelivingend]

Choosing to channel his nervousness at interacting with a stranger (why is he even out here looking for attention, he's pretty shy) into mild silliness, as is his wont, Fish regards Jensen pensively for a time. The way he's squinting, it may seem as though he's wondering what the hell this guy is smoking that he has made such a preposterous request. And finally:

"That," he says, pausing to ever so smoothly slide his shades from his hair down to his nose, "is an excellent request."

Then the pen falls down.

[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."

[crossedstaves]

Crane actually passes Fish once on his way somewhere else. When he's loose in the multiverse he feels no compunction to hide who he is, and therefore wears the same kind of suits he was accustomed to wearing in Gotham (sans bag head, though, he's... not that far gone, or rather, he's not selling drugs at the moment). About ten to fifteen minutes later he comes back from that direction. His errands are mysterious, or maybe he's just walking around like a weirdo; he's not carrying a bag or anything, though he seems to have a clear idea of where he's going.

He glances at the sign, then at Fish. Coming within about two paces of him, Crane pauses and takes out his wallet.

"I would like a monster," he says without much in the way of inflection, placing two dollars in the upturned cap and just kind of staring expectantly at Fish.

[thelivingend]

Fish likes seeing money drop into his hat. It makes him feel like this gives him some kind of minor street cred, like for a while he can pretend he didn't grow up in the suburbs and spend most of his life basically cocooned in mommy's apron strings.

"Alright, cool." This he says without having personally engaged the stranger by looking up from his sketch pad, which is why he sounds genuinely relaxed. When he does finally lift his gaze, he...well, this happens: "Wow. ...Hi. Uh, okay..." This paper is fascinating, he is going to flip to a new page now. "Yeah, I can do you a monster."

[crossedstaves]

There's no real reaction from Crane, and no sign he's read anything into Fish's reaction. On the one hand, he's a keen observer of human nature. On the other hand, he's a sociopathic outsider. Possibly he just doesn't care! But he stands there watching Fish closely as he works, without moving much at all. It started as an impulsive gesture but now it's a fullblown... something.

[thelivingend]

Something indeed. Fish glances at the guy once more, curious about the silence, and...doesn't exactly wish he hadn't looked up again, but he does kind of wish buddy would say something else before he really starts to get nervous. Maybe he's just socially awkward, though. This kind of thing happens all the time to comic book artists at conventions, Fish knows-maybe he's one of those guys.

Pencil at the ready, he thinks about making eye contact, but doesn't actually, and asks, "You want a scary monster, or like a friendly one?"