2019-09-08 - Hair Fairy in the Comics

It surely isn't weird that someone walks by the windows of the beauty parlor right at closing on that same day of the week that Nicole is the only one working there, but what is surely out of the ordinary is that the figure stops, lifts up a hand, and gives a tap against the glass to try and get her attention. With the light outside, it's easy to spy who it is, the unmistakable faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt sporting a dusting of charcoal that has left his right shoulder in various shades of grey, thankfully washed enough that, while the gradient of monochrome colors remain, it isn't still dusty to make a further mess. His messenger bag is slung over one shoulder, a sketchpad in hand, and the expression on his face is one of hope. Big eyes as wide as saucers, large smile that flashes the whites of teeth. No way he needs a hair cut yet, so it must be some other reason that has brought him out.

It's just about closing time and Nicole is in the shop, music turned up a bit more loudly than the level it is at when customers are about, dancing and singing along to the tune as she cleans up from the day. She is dressed in shades of black, on black, on black; her usual work uniform. Wearing a pair of black ballet flats today with black trousers and, at the moment, a black tank top with lace trim at the neckline. A black sweater is draped over the top of one of the chairs. Long, honey blonde tresses are pulled back and held in place with a clip, keeping it out of her face as she works. The rap at the window startles her and she jerks her head up from organizing her station to look, comb held in one hand like some sort of cheap plastic weapon that would probably not at all save her life if she needed it to. When she sees Dylan standing there, she smiles, despite the blush crossing her cheeks from being caught dancing and singing like a dork. The store hasn't quite closed yet, and the door is still open, so she relaxes, setting the comb down and beckoning him inside.

His smile is down right dazzling when that blush comes across her face, and his own body sways and bobs to whatever music he can hear, to match her own. With that comb beckoning him, he steps around to the door, giving an experimental tug to make sure it is indeed unlocked before he steps inside, the chime going off with a resounding reassurance that the artist is indeed not a figment of her imagination. "Hey," He offers up cheerfully, eyes sparkling with warmth as he heads onwards through the beauty parlor and towards her station. "Cleaning up?" His head turns dramatically towards the clock, and just how close it hovers towards closing time. "Walk somewhere?" It sounds like two options, uncertain how long she'll want to be here versus heading... wherever. He seems ambivalent towards the answer, save for having something to discuss with her, in his own way, that doesn't involve a George Clooney'esque makeover on his hair.

"Hey there, Rink," Nicole greets cheerfully enough, even after a long day of work. Brown eyes glance at the clock when he does. Just a handful of minutes before official closing time, but hey, she owns the place now, right? She can close whenever she likes. "Yeah, just about finished, but, I can leave whenever." She smiles at him as she remarks, "you look cheerful tonight. Where are we walking? Or... I can offer a cup of coffee?" She tucks away the last few things at her station then grabs a jug from a cupboard below, unscrewing the cap and filing the sanitizer jar that holds some combs before putting the jug back in its place. Grabbing a towel, she wipes off her hands and asks, "what's on your mind tonight?"

"Good singing," He coos out with a sincere approval, the sort of thing that he can't do for obvious reasons. When she asks where, his features scrunch up on one side, the eye there narrowing, the other becoming larger as he ponders over this sensible question he hadn't really thought about. His conclusion is easy enough to guess in the end, "Whatever you..." It lingers in the air, that last thought as he looks towards her, leaving that proverbial ball in her court to figure out what she's the most comfortable with. It's the last question that he is far more prepared for, the sketchpad held up and tapped. No pencil to be had in his hands, for it's tucked behind his ear, meaning it is show and tell time, with an emphasis on the show, rather than watching him draw. "Hair fairy." He repeats, his expression turning into a lopsided smile of pure delight and pride at this given name for the drawings he's done.

There is a singular huff of a laugh at the compliment. She doesn't make ears bleed, but she certainly doesn't think she's very good at singing. She might be okay, but, we do tend to be our worse critics, people. "Thank you," Nicole says anyway, watching his expressive features as he contemplates her questions. When Dylan holds up his sketchpad and taps it, she smiles brightly. "I do enjoy your work," she comments. "How about I put the closed sign on the door, grab us a couple coffees or water if you prefer, and we sit on one of the couches," she gestures towards the waiting area. "We can chat, look at your work..." Her right shoulder lifts in a small shrug. "Sound good?"

"Coffee." Comes his conclusion as to what he wants, apparently finding this arrangement agreeable, and likely for the best given the light inside versus having to juggle walking, showing sketches, and talking in clipped sentences outside. "Welcome!" Comes his cheerful reply to her given thanks, and without further ado he turns about on his right foot, pivoting to head into the waiting area. With a slump the messenger bag comes off to be stowed at the foot of that piece of furniture, while the man himself flops down into its welcoming cushions. While she's tending to getting those drinks, he is starting to flip through to find the first he wants to start off with. "You chat," He offers up to what she'll have to hold up as her end of this arrangement of the plan, a self-deprecating smile given in good humor for his own short comings. "I'll admire." It rolls off the tip of his tongue flirtatiously, but finally his fingers stop flipping, having found the first page he wants to start at. "Busy day?"

"Coffee it is," Nicole says and begins to head towards a counter towards the back that holds a few scant refreshment options. "You chat too," she says as she opens a cupboard to pull out a couple of paper cups. "Just... more succinctly." Starting to pour the coffee into each cup, she looks back towards Dylan over her shoulder. "Cream, sugar, or anything? Or strong and dark?" The flirtatious remark gets another look at him from over her shoulder. Her smile is appreciative, the wink that comes with it a bit flirtatious in response. "You are a charmer, Rink. I like it." After a beat she says, "I saw you at Amateur night, but didn't see you after I went up. Did you miss it?"

"Well practiced," Comes his quip about being succinct, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. With that spot in his book found, he leans back to lounge on the couch, his full attention placed upon Nicole as she begins to move around. "Sugar," It's certain and reflexive, knowing precisely what he desires when it comes to his coffee. "Missed it," He sighs out, that expression drooping into a pouting, sad look. "Sparrow approved," Which seems to make things only all the more disappointing for the man, at least putting faith in the brilliant red hairs woman judgement when it comes to amateur stripping. "Encore sometime?" Both brows arch upwards with a hopeful look, before they falter as he actually hears what he spoke, and just how suggestive it might sound. "Meant that," Two words. One can see his features scrunch up in distaste, a figurative, 'Fuuuuuck' given to himself for having wasted them on something that doesn't really help clarify at all. With a puff of air upwards, his shoulders and features contort into a helpless expression, bright blue eyes just watching to see how she responds.

Reaching for a creamer (thank goodness for shelf stable), she pours it into her own cup, places a stirrer in each, then carefully balances both a container that holds some sugar and non-sugar packets, and her cup in one hand, his cup in the other as she begins to make her way back to him. "The day was steady, not too bad," she remarks about his earlier question. "Once I get this place like I want it, I am hoping for enough business to hire a couple more stylists; give myself more free time. Goals." Holding his coffee out to him, Nicole flashes her wide smile. "Sparrow was amazing as well. I didn't go full exposure or anything. Baby steps I guess. I mean, I went to school with half the crowd." She laughs and after he accepts his coffee, she pushes aside some magazines from the low table before the couch and sets the sugar down. Moving to join him on the couch, she slips off her shoes, looking to him apologetically. "I hope you don't mind. I really do hate shoes." There is a tattoo along the edge of her right foot; stars and flower vines curling from the heel down to the base of her baby toe. It is feminine and a bit faded, as if she got it long ago. "I told her I might do the next one, maybe. I would at least be better prepared for it. Did she tell you she and Joey didn't tell me where I was going until we pulled up there?" She shakes her head with a soft laugh. "I think that I talk enough for the both of us, Dylan." Noting his scrunched up features, she asks, "You okay?" She pulls her now bare feet up and tucks them beneath herself, sitting cross-legged on the black faux-leather couch. Reaching for a Splenda packet, she dumps it in then stirs her coffee with the bamboo stick slowly.

It's a look of partial amazement that creases his features as he watches that balancing act the stylist does, head quirking quizzically to one side as she begins her approach. Manners finally set in when she's halfway across, his voice cooing out, "Help?" Not that she need it, clearly. He's quick to take his cup of coffee off of her hands, and first he pulls up a couple of sugar packets of Splenda, dumping them in before he begins to stir. Once that is taken care of, the cup is put off to the side to let it cool a bit, the man not favoring the burning hot that some like in their coffee. "She didn't," But he doesn't sound surprised given just whom was involved there. "Encore was," He begins, before another exasperated sigh comes, and if she didn't pick up on that potential interpretation? Well, all the better as far as he's concerned. With a broad smile, his hand lifts, waving it away without a thought. A mock gasp comes from him when she asks if he doesn't mind, and up those hands come to cup over his eyes, as if they were virginal in seeing such bare nude toes laid out before him. Those fingers finally part just enough for his eyes to peer out, and a low whistle of appreciation is given before those hands finally fall down, the bit of playful banter on his part at its conclusion. His knee reaches out to give a gentle jostle to her own, as if to say it's all good, and then that sketchpad is pushed over towards her to see the first. His fingers thumb through the next couple, as if to say it's more than one for her to peek at as she has the time.

The first, though? It's like a comic book panel. It isn't story boarded out, no rhyme or reason to the individual pieces, more just a free flow of thoughts from the man. One of the characters shown looks quite similar to that hair fairy he drew for her that is posted up on her station, looking ever so stylish. Another might make her think of Sparrow, especially given that the lips are painted a color of red so close to the hair dying job that Nicole had done for her. It's primarily in grayscale, well drawn and shaded. The hair fairy? She's given a splash of color with her hair, capturing well that blonde essence that is Nicole to give it a certain pop. Most of the panels are just different poses, but one? It has the 'Hair Fairy' facing off against a guy that looks like he belongs in an 80s hair metal band, and the setting is a stripper club. She's giving a dismissive flick of her fingers, and the poor chaps hair has become possessed, reaching out to wrap around a stripper pole to yank him off of his feet, much to the bad guys surprise.

Two in one hand she can do. More than that is asking for disaster. A smile was given to him at the offer of help, but yes, she had it just fine. Stirring that tan liquid in her cup slowly, she watches him with his own cup, smiling. "You know, you say so very few words, but they seem so meaningful. The only reason I would wish for you to say more is to hear more of your voice. The tone of it is so...." Pressing her lips together with a hum, she shakes her head. "Lovely, is the best word I can come up with in the moment." Tilting her head, she thinks back to Amateur Night and the topic of conversation, trying to recall the before-too-drunk details. "You mean, Echo, was it? She was.... unexpected. It was like watching professional burlesque, not an amateur night. I guess she got a job there though, so, if that's your kind of thing." She smiles crookedly and gives him a wink. "She was something."

Looking aside to him as he sets the sketchpad to the right page, letting her silently know to keep looking, Nicole accepts the book, adjusting her seated position to bring up her knees and slouch down a bit on the couch. Using her thighs as an easel, she studies the page, her toes wiggling in time to the beat of the music playing overhead (currently a rendition of 'I put a Spell on You' Must be Blues Day in Nicoleville). Her smile grows brght when she sees the subjects, she, and Sparrow. Continuing to follow the sketches, she looks up at him. "Did you do this there? At the club?" Without waiting for an answer, she looks back down and laughs with merriment as she sees herself as 'Hair Fairy' take down some metal band reject. "Oh my gosh! That is amazing!" laughing some more she lingers on the page for a moment. "You missed the best performance.. even Sparrow missed it. Some guy that was like a giant with dark long hair, dropping it like it's hot to Candy Shop. He was big, burly, mean looking... shaking it to.. 50 cent. Amazing." Shaking her head again, she moves to flip to the next page.

"You flatter," He replies as she talks about his voice, a twinkle of both delight and mischief, and those cooing words utter out just why it must surely be so lovely, "Absence makes..." The saying goes unsaid, of course. With the book squarely in her control, he leans back into the couch, twisting to better face her and watch as she looks over that makeshift comic panel. Up his arm props, elbow on the back of the thing, hand coming back so the side of his head can rest upon it in a lazy lounge. "No," He comments about what he meant, and that word is repeated again with a rueful smile, "Encore," And out his other hand reaches, a single finger pointing to tap against the tip of Nicole's nose, meaning her and an encore. But nevermind that, apparently, for it's just too difficult to get across what he thought she might think he meant. "Echo. Great," He does concur about her particular performance, a serious dip of his head coming.

When she describes the best performance, a warm bit of laughter comes from him, rich and encouraging, eyes forming into half crescents as they close, trying to picture it all. "Today," He answers about when it was all done. The next page? It features that 'Hair Fairy' in a sketch like one might expect on the front of a comic book or a poster. There she is, in those shades of grey, better detailed out than in the more simple form of the comic panels. Wings, with a strapless dress that lets those glistening fairy features poke out from her shoulders. She's standing in heels, one of them pushed down upon the face of that hair metal band reject. Her left arm is propped up to rest against her hip, holding an oversized brush like a paddle, while the other hand holds a barbers straight razor. Her hair once more has been the splash of color, so vibrant and standing out, and a careful look will see just a touch of blue on the wings to make them look translucent, they too getting that special touch. Beneath it, in those comic caps type letters, is STYLE, like this is the Hero-When-She-Has-To-Be alter ego secret identity of the hair dresser.

Dylan's smile is infectious in the best ways, and so when he looks so delighted, she lifts her head from the sketchbook to look at him, reflecting the expression back at him. "Maybe," she says about absence. "Maybe... Maybe we will never know the true reason, other than, I like it." When he reaches out and boops her nose, he causes her to laugh and those cheeks blush delicately again. "Oh.. my encore. Well, maybe you can give me your number or something and I can let you know when or if there is a chance of that." Then, she suddenly looks terrified, eyes wide as she looks back to his. "Oh! Unless you just meant that, not that you wanted to see but were curious if I was... oh shit. Did I get that all wrong?" She lifts a hand to cover her face, pulling her knees just a little closer, though not putting the sketchbook in any danger.

It takes her a moment to gather her composure over possibly embarrassing the ever living fuck out of herself. With a deep breath to try to wash away the blush with an exhalation, Nicole finally moves enough to let her study the next page. The pink remains upon Nicole's cheeks as she gazes at her comic-self there, so artfully and wonderfully drawn by the man beside her, but not of embarrassment this time. She admires what she sees, finger reaching out to trace the air just above the wings, afraid to smudge the art itself if she were to touch. "You make me make wings look goooood," she comments, then raises her hand higher. She removes the clip holding some of her hair and using a hair tie that had found a home around her wrist, she tames and gathers it all to tie it loosely up. A delicate tattoo behind her ear is revealed to him then, if he were to look. It is similar to the one on her foot, though has a bit of a henna design look to it.

Laughter pours fourth from the man as she speaks of never knowing the true reason, and this gets a serious, solemn nod of his head, as if some mysteries of the universe are just best left unexplained. "Maybe," He repeats after her, and that smile begins to grow broader when that first bit of dawning realization comes upon the woman. His hand lifts, about to give some sort of gesture, but when the next words come out of her mouth, sounding now uncertain what he meant, or if he was asking for one /now/, his mouth gapes open. And then closed. And then open again. It's a comical series of watching words start to be formed, but never coming out, finding it next to impossible to distill a response down to two words that won't make the situation worse. And so instead that hand reverses course, reaching into his pocket.

It takes a moment to tug out his phone, a few buttons pushed, and then it is held up for her to see. It's on that screen that flashes up what his number his, all so she can make note of it however she'd like. "Start beautiful," The hand upon his head shifts as he straightens a touch, motioning towards Nicole herself, and then towards the sketch, giving every bit of impression that he found it easy to capture that particular good look of wings on the woman. His eyes need somewhere to look beyond her blushing cheeks, trying desperately not to make that particular situation worse. Of course, staring at her ear may not be the best means to accomplish this, but it does provide a good bit to fill the void as his head dips towards it, and then those bright blues look down to her foot. "Tattoos." He points out. Duh Dylan!

Nicole may never know exactly what he meant and Dylan may never know exactly what she thought he meant, but the moment certainly brought the two of them laughter, which in itself is a thing of joy, and good. Whatever the case may be, he is showing her his phone number. Reaching into her own pocket, she draws out a phone and deftly uses her thumbprint to turn it on then maneuver to the contacts and input his information. "Thank you," she replies with a smile when he says, basically, that she was already beautiful before he sketched her, at least, that's how she took those two words. The blush stays, but really, she is prone to wearing that particular shade upon her cheeks, so soon enough, she looks less embarrassed and more, well, herself.

She seems to still be tapping at her phone with one hand when he mentions her tattoos. "Oh, yes, just a couple. I kind of want more," she notes. Resting her phone on her lap after she finishes what she is doing (and his phone does whatever it does when he receives texts), she then lifts her hand, palm facing him. Right smack dab in the middle is another flower; five petals with a yellow center and five points of lives between. It is mostly just black outline, save for the yellow center, some subtle reddish pink shading on the petals as they near the center, and small white dots on the petals themselves. "I love the art of them, but like them to hmm... be subtle on myself. Something people need to seek out to see, or... just happen to notice. You have any?"

With a buzz that phone goes off, nearly skittering out of his fingers as that text pops up. Around the device is turned to face him, his tongue wriggling out in a look of concentration as his fingers tap away for a few seconds. Her own doesn't go back off, but he flips his back towards her, all so she can see that contact: 'Blushing Style Signal', just like the Bat Signal, but far better. of course, 'Nicole' goes under the nickname section, just for good measure, and once she's seen that yes, she has his number, and he hers? His phone is shoved back away into his pocket with a broad, beaming smile. "Not yet." He pauses a beat, brow furrowing up as he tries to recall something. "Lex tattoos," He offers up helpfully, no personal familiarity in that tone, but more a friend of a friend told me sort of thing.

"Want one," He concludes, but the look on his face speaks volumes that while he's decided that yes, it makes sense, he just hasn't figured out /what/ yet. "Any more?" He inquiries innocently enough about those tattoos of her own as he looks at her palm, a bob of a head coming as he soaks it all in, clearly enticed by the art that people decide to put upon themselves. It's that look downwards that has him tugged back towards the sketch pad, his fingers giving a wriggle in its way, not trying to keep it. Maybe he's suggesting she looks more, or just to review this particular page in the context of what he means. "Your permission?" Oh how hopeful that face looks, just as it was outside of her window. Another pregnant beat of a pause, before he chimes in, "Making comic."

Nicole giggles softly as his phone nearly skitters out of his grasp, more when he shows her the name he put her number in. "Yeah, Geoff does too. Um, my ex. Not sure if it would be smart for me to get one from him." She pauses. "It has been years though, so maybe not so bad...." She shrugs with a sigh then looks up to him. "Yeah? Something you sketch?" She asks, maybe. "Where would you get it?" He asks her if she has any more and she only grins lopsidedly. "Maybe," she says, looking a little impish, letting him wonder.

At his gesture towards the book, she turns another page, though before the page is fully changed, she pauses to look back at the winged Hair Fairy with a smile. She flattens the back of it, brown eyes set on the new page to give it a study. "Comic?" she asks, eye lifting back to meet his blues. "Of, me... and Sparrow?" Looking to the new page again to see if either is featured next. "I mean, I am... surprised. I'm... you know. Just me. I kind of like how you made me a kick-ass hairdresser... I see nothing but good from it." She smiles to him again. "You have my permission."

Dylan's lips purse up as he considers the implications of getting a tattoo done by an ex, but he doesn't seem to have much of an opinion on it one way or another, not judgemental. His features lift into a sublime smile that speaks volumes of, 'Whatever makes you happy,' when it comes to whom to get that particular bit of ink from. "Not sure!" He chimes in consideration, still not having figured out all the pieces of that puzzle, but his hand twists. Pointing first to his shoulder, and then to his shoulder blades, and then to his opposite wrist, and then it begins to dip down.. only to lift up in a 'I dunno' shrug with an impish smile to let her wonder too where else he might get it at.

It's only when she starts to change that page that his eyes go wide in alarm, and given she only lifts it up briefly? Well, she'll surely catch that flash of blonde hair again. Another sketch of the Hair Fairy. And probably notice not a lick of clothing to be seen. Down that hand comes, smoothing over the paper to leave it on the one of the bad ass 'Style' triumphantly standing atop her fallen foe, "Reference drawing," He coos out in far too sweet, melodic explanation as to what she might have glimpsed. Or not. "A group," He explains about just whom it'd be of, more than just the pair, it'd seem, but when she grants permission? It's that broad, beaming smile. In he dips to plant a kiss right to her cheek, that enthusiasm just spilling from him, "The best!" He says of her.

Humming as she smiles at him with a soft 'hmm' of consideration as she follows his pointing hand from place to place to... well... She looks back up to meet his eyes and smiles. "You'll have to keep me updated." The words are followed by a wink. Flirtatious? Maybe. Maybe seems to be the theme of the day.

She had seen part of the next page before he panicked. She was about to give it a good study when his hand comes down, covering that piece with the previous. She looks surprised; brows lifted, lips parted as she looks from the 'Style' page to him and back again. She playfully tries to turn the page again, but isn't doing so in a way that would potentially cause a tear or anything. "Did I see... I saw my hair... But..." She peeks at him, that blush highlighting her features again, though she seems to also be taking joy from teasing him. "Reference drawing? Of me... Like..." She looks down at the tank top she is wearing, then chin still tilted in that direction, lifts her eyes to him. "I want to see" He surprises her again, this time by pressing his lips to her cheek, though it is just an appreciative gesture, it seems. "Well, I am... yes." She chuckles then asks, "are you planning to publish? What will you do with it?"

"Maaaaybe," He offers about keeping her updated, a coy smile touching to the corners of his mouth about the potential for those tattoos. "You too." He coos out about her own quest for yet another, should she choose to pursue it. It's only when she begins to tug the page up and states she wants to see that his hand withdraws, letting her do as she'll desire. "Not sure," He comments about what he's going to do, features scrunching up again with the difficulty of it all. Making the comic, it seems, is the easy part.

"Patreon," He considers, as a means for one way to help fund it, at least a touch. "Digital. Local," His hand lifts, giving a gesture down the road, where if Nicole pays attention to such things? Well, it's the general direction of where the local comic shop is at. That's as far as he's gotten in his thoughts at the moment, which isn't far indeed with just how new these inspired ideas have been. And then she reveals the next page. It is indeed her, that blonde hair... and, well, really nothing else. It's not an overly sexualized drawing, with her hips turned so that her lower half angles away, keeping from flashing the most intimate of parts. But she is quite nude in the drawing, not a lick of clothing on. Her lower lip is caught in her teeth, and the expression she wears is like one pondering just what they should wear.

"Well," Nicole starts. "Whatever you do, please let me help with costs. I am not rich, but, I can help a little maybe. Oh!" She looks as he gestures down the road. "I know the owners. Sometimes take photos for them. They let me do that, they are sure to help out an actual artist like you!" She smiles at him encouragingly. "But, my permission comes with one stipulation..." She smiles at him as he lifts his hand and she turns the page slowly, fully revealing the artwork that is a representation of her. Yeah, that blush isn't going anywhere, but the way she tucks the loosening strands of hair behind her ear (they never seem to want to stay tucked away, do they?) and simply smiles at the sketch allude to the fact that she is not shy, and in fact, likes it. "You capture my expression pretty spot on," she says about the bit lip before her eyes scan lower. There is no comment about how spot on the rest of it might be, but there is a dimple inducing grin before she purses her lips together. After a moment of study, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink, she starts to turn the page again. "Is there more?"

"You do?" He hasn't met them himself, from the sounds of that voice, or at least not in anything more than the passing exchange of purchases one might make. A hand lifts to shoo away the thought about helping with costs, and now a touch of sheepish embarrassment comes from him, "Couldn't. Inspiration," He offers up for how she has already helped. Once she is on the page, and her expression doesn't turn into one of dislike or distaste, his own body language becomes far more relaxed again, allowing her the chance to look and see as much as she'd care to. His head props itself against his hand once more, and a small dip of his head comes as he answers that question, "One." He answers for how many more there are to look over. It's the matter of that one point of negotiation that he plays back in his head, realizing she hadn't actually gotten around to saying what it was. "Stipulation?" He inquiries, knee nudging her own to encourage it to come spilling out.

The next page isn't nearly as racy, it's just back to the comic panel style. But this time, it's all of that character, working through potential different expressions. Happy, exasperated, stern, glowering, unimpressed, scissor waggling angry.

"I do, yeah. Just shots of items they want to feature on their website. They do some cosplay sometimes that they ask me to shoot too. Not bad people. I don't know them super well, but..." She shrugs a shoulder then when he says she is part of the inspiration and can't help out financially at all, she smiles and plants her own small peck against his cheek before moving to finish turning the page. Her eyes scan it over before his knee nudge grabs her attention again. "Oh, yes... sorry, I was distracted. Stipulation." She smiles. "Just that you visit often to show me your work, have coffee, talk, whatever..." Another shrug, nonchalant. "You have my number, we can meet up somewhere or wherever." Whatever, wherever. She is not known for eloquence. "Deal?" she asks, brown gaze settling back to the sketch.

After studying the page for a moment, she lifts her face to look straight at him. She wears a neutral expression, then smiles overly bright. This is followed by a sneering sort of anger. Anger morphs into a crooked smile mischievousness, eyes sparkling with whatever thought might come with it. She then shoots her gaze out to the window as if she is just a bit frightened, then presses a hand to her chest and heaves a sigh, looking relieved. Her eyes close, and when they open her lips spread in a smaller, more natural smile. It takes her a moment to 'perfect' the next one; eyes growing wide, teeth gritting, nose scrunching, looking as if she might punch something any moment. That is followed by a wide-eyed surprise, her mouth in an 'oh' before she covers it with her hand. When she lowers her hand, her tongue is sticking out and her eyes relax, glittering with happiness before she melts into giggles and relaxes into her seat.

A nod of understanding at what she does and why, and his voice is curious and impressed, "Those yours?" About the pictures on the website, a pleased smile at learning of her own little hobby when it comes to art and photography. One brow arches upwards as she goes to so eloquently make that stipulation, but his own teasing personality won't let her off so easily. His head cocks itself to the side, putting on a face that pretends he doesn't understand as his voice inquires, "Do what?" A flutter of eyes, a tip of his head the opposite way, as the next word comes with a touch of scandal... and approval, "Everrryyywhere?"

But her expressions get to him, laughter spilling fourth readily, and one can tell his eyes are soaking in each and every bit of her posture, the way eyes and mouth and nose and ears adapt to each, along with those dimples. "Should pose," He coos out with clear approval, a bob of his head coming in that complete delight for the small show she puts on for him.