The Roof, Sunday Afternoon

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo lugged the easel, the paints and palette, and a couple of the blank canvases she'd bought earlier in the week up to the roof, setting herself up in the corner with the garden of spiky plants. It had been a long time since she'd had a chance to do any artwork, and painting was still something fairly new to her; now that she actually had her life to herself again (for however long that lasted) she welcomed the chance to try her hand at.

Acrylics. She'd never painted with acrylics before, either, and though she'd never admit it out loud as she squeezed generous daubs of various colors onto the palette, she had no idea what it was going to be like. Some classically-trained artist somewhere would probably have a fit if they saw her guessing her way through this, she thought, lighting up a cigarette.

Absently, she dipped her brush into a color at random and began to let it trail over the canvas. This was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but it was soothing.

[OOC: Open like a roof is. Mind the temperamental artist, but she's a bit mellower today.]

Comments

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

He made his way up with his bag over one shoulder and his broom in hand. He was just going up to start a flight for the day, but upon seeing someone up there he gave a brief wave and sort of peered to see what she was up to even if he didn't actually know who she was.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

She didn't notice him at first, oddly fascinated by the feel of the acrylic paint, but she looked up when she noticed the wave and nodded shortly. As interruptions went, this was on the polite end of the scale.

"Broom?" she asked, casually dispassionate but just the slightest bit curious.

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

He pointed out to the sky.

"Taking a flight," he explained. "I'd almost thought everyone knew at this point.

"Thank you for not making a dirty joke about it."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

If she hadn't already managed to come to terms with the fact that her roommate was a robot and people came from the future here, she would have protested more, but instead Katchoo just blinked for a moment and shook her head.

"Won't say it didn't occur to me," she admitted.

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

"All the same."

He walked around to look at her canvas.

"What's all that?"

It looked a little like the drawings Nor had done on Elphaba's papers but the colors were brighter and the scent of the lot of it was entirely new.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo trailed the brush in a long, curving stroke, leaving a textured swath of green behind, and stepped back, surveying the largely abstract, at least to her, design. "Not sure yet. Never painted with acrylic before."

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

"That's paint then?"

He'd never seen it like that.

Of course, Katchoo couldn't know that. But the curiousity was in his tone, in his eyes as he looked it over.

"I've never actually seen something like that. I probably should have, considering my time here and everything, but I've mostly stayed in the kitchen."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, it's paint." She spared a moment to remind herself that with people coming from apparently all over, she really shouldn't boggle over it being such a new discovery to someone, and daubed a thicker layer over parts of the line she'd described.

That last bit made her pause and look at him askance. "The kitchen?" Did this place have servants? He didn't look like one, but that was a little disconcerting.

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

"I like to cook, bake," he said before turning to paw at his bag. The little satchel opened and he pulled out a small brown bag after a minute.

"Do you like chocolate cinnamon?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Do I, hell," Katchoo replied, genuinely caught off-guard by the unprompted offer; she set the paintbrush down and raised a hand as if to reach toward the bag minutely. "Does anyone not?"

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

He walked over to hand it to her.

They (http://herbsspices.about.com/od/cookies/r/PesachCCCookies.htm) weren't warm anymore, hadn't been for a bit, but they were still soft.

"You're welcome to them. I've got a stash in my room."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo hesitated a moment before taking the cookies. "Thanks," she said, the customary hoarseness of her voice tinged with a different kind of rasp, as if she was a little out of practice saying the word.

Thinking of Ronan and the sandwiches a few days ago, she noted, "Seems like people around here like to cook and share food a lot." Hell of a lot more altrustic than she was used to. Not a bad thing.

[new-to-liirness.livejournal.com]

"It's one of the few things I'm good at and it's easier to hand someone a bag of cookies than try small talk. At least, for me."

He shrugged.

"Adjusting to this place all right?"

He hadn't seen her around previously, and her words had the sound of someone getting used to the place. Used to the kindness.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

Any attempts to get out much more of his 'story' had left Cal in bad need of a cigarette, so, shrugging on a jacket, he took a break from the typing, rubbed at a splotch of ink on his hand, and headed up to the roof. Once he got there, he slid the pack out of the front pocket of the jacket, tapping it lightly against his hand before extracting out a single cigarette; he tucked it between his lips and slid the pack back, replacing it with his small Zippo lighter. He hunched his shoulders against any wind as he set the flame, drawing in the first deep breath of tobacco, flicked the flame out and the lighter shut with a smooth gesture with his wrist, and tucked it back in with the pack. He certainly wouldn't say anything, though, to disturb the artist, especially if she hadn't noticed him.

He blew out the first stream of smoke after holding it in his lungs, and he had come up here determined not to pay much attention or bother anyone else who might be there, to just focus on his cigarette break to get back inside and into his room, but, really, it was hard to just stand there and smoke when someone was up there with an easel, painting. He wondered if it would be rude to pay too much attention, but he couldn't help to keep drifting his eyes over curiously

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

The first canvas was covered with paint by now, just random streaks and splotches by the time she'd called it done. Now that she'd gotten a bit of a feel for the acrylics Katchoo had set it aside, replacing it on the easel with the fresh, larger one. That, of course, meant time for a break of another sort, so she paused, fished a cigarette and battered Bic from the inside pocket of her leather jacket, and sparked a flame; as she did, she caught sight of Cal and gave him the brief sort of nod she gave everyone these days.

There ought to be some kind of law of physics about smokers gravitating toward each other, or something.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

Cal jerked his chin up in greeting at the nod, his eyes roving a moment over the girl before they drifted back to the painting.

"Nice work," he commented, even if he wasn't entirely sure what he really thought of it from here and with only just the brief, curious glances.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo quirked an eyebrow as she exhaled a long stream of smoke. "Into abstracts?"

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

Cal shrugged a little. "Don't really know until you look at them a bit," he answered, lowered his hand a moment, down to his side as he tapped ash to his feet. "Isn't that how abstract's supposed to work?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Never really gave a crap about how it was supposed to work," Katchoo said dismissively. "Whatever stuffy art critics have to say doesn't matter to me."

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

Interesting response; Cal wondered exactly how true it was, sucking at the end of his cigarette. He didn't respond until after he'd lifted his chin, slowly letting out a cloud of smoke into the air.

"So, do you think it's any good?"

Since, clearly, her opinion was the only one that mattered.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"I think it looks like acrylic vomit," Katchoo said bluntly.

And yes, if you asked her, her opinion was the only one that mattered.

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

It certainly was a very...appropriate assessment. It still didn't answer his question, though, because, while they were in the same mindset that it did, indeed, resemble a regurgitation of the medium, there was no indication of whether or not she thought this was a good thing.

Since he didn't particularly care that much, he tried a different angle, "Was that what you were going for?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Nah." Katchoo turned to glance at the canvas, propped up against the wall by the easel. "'f I'd really done it right, lookin' at it would make people want to hurl."

[not-a-mused.livejournal.com]

That managed to wring a small snort out of Cal.

"Better luck next time, I guess. But I'll let you know if the urge to blow chunks starts rising by the time I finish this cigarette."

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

The corner of her mouth twitched, just for a second, as she absentmindedly stroked a few more lines on the canvas into what was beginning to look like a rough human form. "Just keep it away from my shoes, 'kay?"