2019-08-29 - Carrots And Caricatures

With such a pleasant - and not rainy! - afternoon, it's no wonder why people would be attracted to the park. And one in particular is easily seen, given the fact that Dylan has chosen to perch on top of one of the picnic bench tables, rather than the bench itself. Legs crossed, a sketchpad in hand, those big, bright blue eyes hold no shame that he's observing those out for a stroll or playing today even as the pencil in his hand sketches and shades away. Next to him is a messenger bag, it's flap opened enough to see there are even more of those sketch pads within, along with an assortment of different pencils for his work.

People in the park come and go, and one such person is Corey. It seems Dylan isn't alone in wanting to do some work out in the sunshine, and the male Jones twin ends up on an adjacent bench table, sliding onto it as a group depart, dumping his courier bag on top and pulling out.. a carrot. And a small paring knife. Before really settling in to whatever it is he's planning to do with those two, he glances sidelong, scoping out the others here, and pausing. Thinking. Translating the memory of a kid in school to someone slightly older and coming up with.. "Rink?"

The expressive features of Dylan crinkle up as he catches sight of the carrot, and then the knife at the table next to him. It gives him enough pause to flip the page of his book, until his name is spoken. Those blue eyes blink once. Twice. Three times as they study Corey, and the first words out of his mouth are wry and bemused, and clearly not directed at the man himself. "Fuckin' Sparrow." A big, brilliant smile is beamed towards the fellow as recognition settles in, his head giving a dip that way, "Hey. Corey." Before those eyes dart to the carrot, and then back to its owner, a quizical, puzzled look creasing over those features. "How goes?"

It probably isn't the first time Corey has been directly correlated with something his twin did, so he simply grins at Dylan's outburst. "Hey. Goin' alright thanks. Got bored in the house so I figured I'd do some practicing outside." Whatever kind of practice is done with a carrot, it's at least apparently safe for the public eye. "How you doing?" Glancing back to his vegetable, he begins to skim the knife over the surface, peeling off a sliver of carrot skin, dropping it into a little plastic tub also drawn from his bag.

"Living. Good." Comes the two worded response from Dylan, even as his face scrunches up, tongue sticking out comically for a brief moment as he watches that carrot begin to get sliced up. And then that pencil begins to go to work with whatever vision has popped into his head, "College. Art." That much, surely, is self apparent as he watches with a rapt bit of fascination, head craning to one side to see what else might be within that bag before he continues on his own work. "You?"

A keen eye might note another vegetable in there, a cucumber. And a couple more plastic tubs, though the sides are opaque so what they contain - if anything - remains a mystery! Corey is still looking down at what he's doing, removing the carrot skin a little at a time, until he's got a couple inches of naked carrot to work with. "College. Culinary science," he responds in the same style, before beginning to make a few cuts into the carrot flesh. Angled, precise, removing small bits now and again. "You sketching the park or the people?"

"Yes." Comes Dylan's response to that question, and his fingers pause momentarily on his pencil. A few pages back are flipped, and then the pad is turned around so Corey can see it. The picture is of the park, but more clouded, and those clouds? One might see vague shapes of hearts in them. A single beam of sun shines through, down to illuminate a couple walking hand in hand. The next page flips, and this time? It's just of a person. A man clearly down on their luck, shoulders hunched over. The last he shows is of the park itself, but imagined as if it had all become overgrown. "What dish?" He asks, eyes flickering to the work that Corey does, even as the pad is brought back around to continue the one he had started once the man arrived.

Pausing the movement of the knife, Corey looks over to Dylan's pad when it is tilted his way. "Oh, huh. You're good. Like the overgrown one," he comments, smiling briefly at the other student before returning his gaze to his carving. "No particular dish, but I gotta practice presentation, which usually involves things like vegetables and fruit cut into flowers." So apparently, that is the fate of the carrot, being slowly trimmed and shaped with the paring knife, slowly forming a not-terrible flower. Of no particular type other than generic 'flower', but still. It's a start.

"Huh," That singular sound comes out with an air of fascination at that explination, and it has Dylan pausing in his work, the page flipped again to something new and fresh. "Own restaraunt?" Comes the inquiry about future plans for this particular set of skills, even as those blue eyes drift down to his pad. A couple of other pencils are pulled out, even as he explains in his own, clipped way. "Like shading." For art, apparently, giving the dip towards the pad, "Adds interest." Beauty beyond the functional.

"Maybe. Mostly I'm just looking for a passing grade," Corey replies with a lazy grin. "I'm aiming for a research and development post, not so much worried about presentation skills for that." A few more little cuts to smooth out the curves along the petals, and then he cuts the flower loose and sets it on the table top, before starting another. "Yeah, shading gives it depth I guess? Looks like you can do a lot with a bit of darkness."

"Researching food?" Comes the quizical peer, the scrunched up features of Dylan as he tries to put two and two together for that potential application. A hand strays out to tug free one of the other notepads from the book, flipping it open to flash it towards Corey as he goes back to an earlier thought. "Saw Sparrow," It had been a while. A long while, from the sound of his tone. And the sketch? It's of Rink strapped down to a rack, a wide eyed and shocked expression on his face. Sparrow stands by the wheel looking her sassy self, a halo on her head held up by a wire that is slightly bent... and holding a book titled, simple, 'Book of Questions'. "She's inquisitive."

"Yep. How do you imagine people figured out that salted caramel was amazing? Or that you have to store bananas above other fruit? Or that you could make cake without gluten?" Corey explains. "That's what research chefs do." And clearly is what he enjoys, if the passion in his voice is any indication. He cocks his head slightly at the picture, brows raising slightly. "That's a good likeness," he allows after a moment. "Though you forgot the horns."

That comment about her horns has a broad smile curling to Dylan's mouth, those eyes going wide as if he's found someone who truly /gets it/. There is a firm nod of his head in agreement to this conclusion, "Claims angelic," He coos in disbelief, as if that just surely must be a story that Corey's twin tells people who don't know better. There is another pause in his sketching, and it's clear it has taken on a different tactic now, that tongue reappearing once more in avid concentration before he muses, "Sounds fascinating," He finally concludes, a free finger lifting to tap to his head as if indicating the sharp mind his culinary conversationalist must have. "Why?" Comes the inevitable ask, clear curiosity in what has created that passion for this particular career.

Of course Corey gets it, at least in this particular instance. She's his twin. "Yeah, she is an angel. But then again, so was Lucifer before he fell," he adds with a lazy smile, his tone fond as he talks about his sister. "Mmn? Yeah, it's pretty interesting stuff. Annnd.. well, cooking is pretty much the only thing I've stuck at in like.. ever. And I love experimenting with it, so. Seems like a good fit."

There is a brief pause at the parallel that Corey draws, and a warm, nearly infectious bit of laughter comes from Dylan. Those eyes crinkle around the edges, the whites of teeth flashed, and finally he murmurs, "Too true." It's the touch of a few more lines, and then it is flipped around. It's rough still - so much to be filled in to give it context, and details - but the premise is clear enough. A figure has been roughed out, surely Corey, that seems to be holding a test tube and a carving knife. He's in what might well be a Mad Scientists Lab, with what looks to be small vats containing vegetables and other food ingredients in it. So many of the initial tracing and perspective lines are on it, but it gives a glimpse of what it will become. "I understand." Fingers tap against that sketchpad, art the same for him, clearly.

Starting in on carving his second carrot flower, Corey lifts his gaze when Dylan flips the pad around again, brows raising. "Wow. Man, I really like that. You've got me, not just what I look like," he notes, sounding impressed. "Like a caricature of the soul, or whatever." He sets knife and carrot down, to flex his fingers a bit. "You gonna do this for a living, after college?"

"Will finish." And given the way that a finger points towards Corey, once it is done? He can be expecting to get it. That praise draws out a sheepish, lopsided smile from the man, and those features turn into one of wide eyed hope at the thought of how he might turn it into a living. "Concept Artist." A beat of a pause, his brow furrowing into wrinkles. It's a long silence, as if it is difficult to produce another couple of words so readily, before he adds on, "Movies. Games." The pad is flipped back over, the pencil returned to its proper place between his fingers as he starts in on some of those details, along with erasing the far lighter, guiding lines.

"Wow. Thanks," Corey voices, sounding grateful. He nods at the suggested career, adding, "Like that John Howe guy who did all the pictures for the Tolkien movies?" Clearly he's familiar with the job, nodding again a moment later. "You've got the skills, so I hope it works for you." He resumes carrot-carving as the other guy goes back to his sketching, musing, "It'd be pretty cool to see your ideas turned into games or movie sets."

"Thanks." Dylan nearly beams, his head bobbing enthusiastically with the thought of how amazing it would be, even if it is in the smallest of ways. It's then that his phone starts vibrating, an alarm that had been set going off, his lower lip bit at the corner as he looks down at it. "Gotta go," He finally concludes with a grunt of disappointment, his pencil slid back in with the rest of them, and that pad flipped shut. "Will finish," He promises once more with a tap to the pad, reassuring that this is one Corey will see again. "Good luck!" His head dips towards the carrot flowers, that lopsided, gregarious expression cast on those features momentarily.