2019-10-17 - Posing, Painting, and Parley

They've texted a bit back and forth about a number of things, from wings to his art, to sex toys used as art, to stories that are better told in person. But getting together for those in person talks has been a bit more difficult, with his classes, her work, the death flu of 2019, and various other things. Finally... finally, Nicole seems to have some free time and sends him a text.

(TXT to Dylan) Nicole : Hey, if you aren't busy, I'm free for all the things tonight. Want to come over, or should I come there?

He was going to come over to her tiny little home. She awaits him, music playing on a small speaker, sitting cross-legged on the couch, dressed for comfort in a pair of shorts made of pink sweatshirt material and a grey and white striped long-sleeved tee-shirt, and her hair held loosely back with a clip. Playing a game on her phone, she looks up out one of the large windows whenever she thinks she sees a car or person approaching.

Dylan arrives at the door - walking, no car for him! - with his messenger bag that seems overly stuffed today. And more than that, there are wings held up in one hand, slung carefully over his shoulders. He's dressed in a pair of jeans that have splotches of dried pink paint, along with a white red and black striped flannel shirt to help ward off the fall weather. It's his shoe clad toes that 'thud thud thud' in a knock on the door, that lopsided, friendly smile from the man already in place as he waits for the door to be opened to let him him.

Those wings are truly pretty, too! They fit the profile of the woman just right to match the drawings, and it's small, clear tubes he has used to create the shape, connecting a thin filament of bluish fabric between them to create the wings. It's four in total, and they all connect to a central, circular hub. It doesn't have any way to attach it, not yet, save for a couple of hooks straps could run through, given Dylan wasn't sure what she'd be wearing whenever she wanted them. "Hiiiiii!" Comes his ever so friendly voice.

With the curtains open on the windows, Nicole saw him walk past the greenery that is her patio area and approach the door. She meets him there, opening it almost instantly after his soft-kicking knocks. A bright smile spreads upon her face as she greets him, and the wings, before she looks up to the drizzly sky. "Hi! Come in! Oh, you made them!" Reaching out to touch one wing, she exclaims, "they look great! How are you?" She steps aside to let him in, gesturing to the counter as a spot he can put his things. "Welcome to my tiny abode. "

Up his head cranes when she looks upward, giving a baleful look to the threatening, gloomy skies. "Wasn't sure," He waggles that connector, a hapless expression crossing his features, and then he looks down to her clothes, hoping that will clue her in on just what he means. It's certainly something to be careful of, with those wings, but it doesn't crumple beneath a touch, securely held on enough that brushing against them is perfectly fine.

"Thanks!" He exclaims once she complements them, and in he trundles, heading towards the counter she indicates. First comes off his messenger bag, and then? Well, he eyes the wings, carefully setting them up on there, letting her figure out how to keep them safe until she needs them. Only then, with things safe and sound, does Dylan's attention turn to the trailer itself. He looks over it all, his face making 'ooohs' and 'ohs' here and there, before a beaming smile is given. "Nice!" A twitch of his nose comes, one hand lifting to rake through his hair, a low 'hmmm' of thought before he finally concludes. "Good. You?"

"I ask a lot of questions to the guy who doesn't use a lot of words. I am awful." Nicole scrunches up her nose and only after he has made everything safe, does she lean in to try and steal a quick hug from him. "Thank you again for them." Releasing the man, she continues to stand near. "When Ash suggested it, well, I thought it would be good advertisement for your work, especially if you keep working on that comic idea. Have you had a chance to talk to Ruby or Raul at One Up?" He checks out her place and she can't help but smile with pride. "Thank you. It's small and.... small, but, it's mine. I am partial to it."

"Me? I am good, now. I think I am finally fully over the flu. That was hard... man." Turning to look more closely at the wings, noting the hooks, she asks, "do I put like, a belt or something here?" She's trying to figure out the logistics of them, tilting her head this way and that before turning to look at him again. "Oh! Make yourself comfortable... can I get you something to drink? I have water, and um, beer... I think some milk? And more water..." She reaches up to adjust the clip holding her hair back. Clearly, she is a better hairdresser than hostess.

"Is ok!" He offers up with out hesitation, and in he comes to give that hug back, his being a warm, one armed thing that squeeeeezes. "Welcome." A beaming smile comes from him as he peers over at the wings, head bobbing up and down in thought with her idea. A frown comes across his features when she mentions One Up, and a breathy sigh is pushed out in disappointment. "No. Want..." to, one would imagine that missing word would fill it. Back his attention turns to the place, and when she mentions the belt? A, '"UHHMMMMM," comes from him, eyes wide with a touch of horror. "Improvise?"

A hand lifts to flutter over and around her clothing, "Wasn't sure," He comments again about what she'll be wearing with it, and how to attach it. Once invited, he glides over towards the little couch, settling in all nice and comfy. "Water!" He chimes happily, a quite easy guest to make content. He wriggles in, hands clashing over his stomach, and up his features scrunch at the mention of the flu. "Was hoooooorible," There is a look of dread on those features, a small gulp that comes from the man in clear distaste of whatever he experienced with it.

Order achieved, Nicole heads to the fridge and pulls out a bottle water, getting a glass from one of the glass-fronted cabinets to pour it in. bringing it over, she sits beside him, one foot tucked under the other leg, knee on the cushion, so she can better face him.for conversation. Holding out the glass of water to him she offers, "I could probably introduce you some time, if you like. If that would help." She looks down at her clothing, then up to him, lashes framing dark eyes as she tries to decipher what he was referring to before. "I'm not sure yet," she says, "But I will think of something, I am sure. "

"Have you been able to do much sketching or anything since being sick? Anything new? No rush on the flyer or anything." Tilting her head she leans back a bit against the couch. "If not, well, I know you mentioned a while ago about showing me something? Number two of your top four weirdest moments?" She seems to assume it has to do with artwork. Lifting an arm to rest elbow to the back of the couch and resting a fist against her temple to prop it up, she smiles at him coyly. "Or I could pose... but, I thought maybe we'd work up to that." There's a small wink at him with that, and a slightly coy grin.

"Probably. Talkative," And then he points to himself, that lopsided, gregarious smile blossoming to his features to indicate he knows just where his problems are at, and how a conversation about his comic might be really... weird, if left to his own devices. His own body turns in towards hers once she sits, all the better so that he can watch her too. Fingers wrap about that glass, plucking it up, and he takes a good long drink from it before it is tucked into his lap. "You will," He offers reassuringly about her figuring something out, having no doubt in her abilities given she inspired Style, after all.

"Yes. Just," A hand lifts, flittering here and there and everywhere, like it hasn't been any one thing his focus has been on. "Masquerade masks." It's when she mentions that weirdest moments that his features all fall and droop, and there is a careful and cautious look given towards the woman. "Maybe later." It's only when she mentions posing that he perks up, putting two and two together about her earlier inquiry as to his sketching, and that glass is handed back over to here. "Second!" And up he springs, stepping across the floor to grab that quite full bag to haul back towards the couch.

Nicole's eyes go wide and she says, "oh! Right! I could help explain your intentions with the comic and stuff... Duh, Nicole." There is a good-natured chuckle at herself that ends in a contented sigh. "It's settled then> I will reach out to them and see when a good time for all of us to meet might be?"

"Masquerade masks are sexy... Kinda wish I had a proper masquerade to go to. I need to check in with Love again about the hair....." She hmms in thought before asking about the second weirdest thing. When she sees his expression change she is about to apologize for bringing it up, but then he hands the water over to her as he bounds up out of his seat to fetch his bag. That sort of energy he has will make her smile, every single time. Lifting her other leg to now sit criss-cross-applesauce (as the children like to say), she holds the glass there where her ankles meet, waiting. "New sketches? Or are you that eager to sketch me now?" She waggles a brow at him with a lopsided grin.

A beaming, hopeful smile is cast towards her when two and two connect, those big blue eyes ever so wide, "Pllleeaaaase?" He coos out towards the hair dresser, before with a flop he tosses himself down into the couch with enough force to surely make her side bump up and down a bit. "Masquerade party!" He points out, something that one might have seen around town, surely. His head tips when she gives that brow waggle, and then his eyes rake down purposefully, looking at all of her in that clothing as if considering.

"Yes. Yes." Comes the twice repeated agreement to either showing sketches and being eager to sketch her, and he wriggles in to get comfortable. "Paint. Sketch?" He inquiries, one brow arching upwards to see if she has a preference on which one he'll do, once he gets around to it. "Hows you?" It's a touch of a sheepish smile for not having asked earlier, and rather than pulling out a sketch pad, he takes the glass back from her.

Nodding her consent with a coy grin Nicole tacks on, "you're cute when you beg." Her smile grows wider and he gets an added wink. "I will do it. Let me know your available times> I don't know your class schedule, and we'll work something out." She lifts the water from her lap as he flops, making her bounce a bit. She still spills a bit on her bare leg, just a drop or two. Wiping it off, or rubbing the moisture into her skin with one hand, she hangs onto his water with the other. "I thought the Masquerade party was just for Platinum employees? That's the thing I am doing hair for, right?"

He studies her casual layabout home clothes then makes an inquiry of her, causing her to look down at herself, then back up to his blue eyes. "Um... I'm not sure, paint? That would be something different maybe... what do you think?" A hand goes up to rest at the nape of her neck, elbow crooked out as she playfully poses for reference, smiling at him as if he were a camera. "Me?" She smiles, lowering her hand once more to rest around his glass, which she will keep over here and away from his bag and art. "I'm good. Was busy at work after the flu, catching up with things, and people. Trying to get out more around town, try new things... I am on a try new things kick. I was going to try to learn how to paint pottery... that would have been a disaster, I mean fun... but it was canceled." Up her hand rises, fingers curling in until she is pointing at him. "That's what you should do! A... learn to paint while you drink thing! You could rake in the money... I mean, if you needed money and wanted to do something like that..." He takes his water back and she relinquishes it, only eyeing how close it is to his sketchpad once.

A playful wink comes from the man as she says he is cute, and in he wriggles deeper into the couch. "Evenings!" Comes his cooing voice of delight at the prospect of the help she is offering, and a kiss is blown her way in a show of gratitude. "Ooooh," His brow furrows up in consideration, and out his phone comes, tapping a bit on it before he shoves it back into his pocket, beaming a smile towards her. "Yeah." He concurs as to that is what she's doing all the hair thing for.

"Painting. Okay!" "Trying what?" It's at the mention of painting pottery that his head bobs up and down, "Me too!" He offers up about having been so hopeful about attending, and then his brow furrows, a small frown taken as he points to himself. "Baaaad teacher," He claims, and then that finger lifts to point to his mouth as it opens and closes, but no words spill fourth from it. Thankfully, that water isn't long for this world, a big drink taken from it as he gulps it all down, and then starts looking around for some place to put it. "Uhhhmmmm. More?" He finally asks, brows furrowing up in consideration, "Cleaning brushes," He explains, hoping that at least makes a modicum of sense. "Flyer!" Blink blink comes the man, and he stops in his quest for something to do with the glass, turning back to look at her. "What want?"

"Evenings it is then." She catches the blown kiss and blows one right back to him. "See, employees only, and, I am not an employee... so... no Masquerade for me. Sometimes, I wish I worked in a place that allowed for more partying. The only kind I get are little girl 'spa day' parties where mom pays for half a dozen little girls to get their nails done." She shrugs lightly, then reaches to take the glass from him and rise up from her seat. As she walks to the kitchen area, she continues to talk. "Did you say this was for the brushes? Or to drink? Or did you want both?" Where she gets the water depends on his answer.

Looking over her shoulder, she says, "I think you might be a better teacher than you might imagine." Filling the glass (from the tap for brushes, from the rest of the bottle if for drinking), Nicole says, "kind of a do what I do kind of lesson. or... I dunno, could make it a thing... I am not good with ideas sometimes." She laughs and turns to walk back to him. "I still think it could work, somehow..." She doesn't hand him the glass, but sets it down on the little table near the arm of the couch where he sits, within his reach. "For the flyer? Um... just something simple that catches the eye for the help wanted ad... Any ideas?"

"That sounds..." His eyes get a rather horrified look when she talks of the little girl spa day parties, a low breath pushed out from him as he slumps back, feeling tired just thinking about it. He relinquishes the glass, before he explains in that ever so cheerful mood, "Cleaning brushes!" That too gets an equally bright smile from the man as he watches, and already one can see him pondering and thinking how she can get more partying in. "Sparow'll help." That's his conclusion, his eyes sharpening for a moment as he files away that little mental thought.

When she asks about flyers, the bag is flipped open. First comes out brushes. And then several small squeeze tubes of colored paints. These are put out on the little table too, until finally he finds his sketch pad and pulls it out. Back he flips several pages, humming all the way. "Yes." He concludes, tongue sticking out as he continues to try and find just which one he is looking for. "A thing," A waggle of his brows comes as he considers just how he might teach, but clearly his own brain is rather blank on that particular front.

"Horrid? Frightening? Like a migraine waiting to happen?" Nicole finishes his thought for him about the little girl parties. "I mean, they can be kind of fun sometimes, but when you get the spoiled rotten brats?" She shakes her head. "I like working with the girls you know don't usually get much attention though. I like it when they smile." Settling back down on the couch beside him like she was before, she laughs. "Ha! Yes, Sparrow will help me. I wonder if she is back from her trip yet. I need to text her."

Dark eyes watch Dylan as he brings out his tools, seemingly quite interested in his process. "Well, like. I bet all the ladies wouldn't mind you helping them. Leaning over, your hand on theirs, guiding their brush as they stare into your blue eyes, imagine... things." She likes that word. Things. "I could pull a test night together and see if I am right, I bet."

Those features twist up further in a look of sheer, fake panic at the description she gives, his jaw slackening, mouth open for a long moment as he just imagines what that all would be like. It's only when she mentions which ones she loves taking care of that his mouth curls up into a warm and approving smile, his voice cooing out with a touch of approval, "You're sweet." He concludes without even needing a moment of hesitation to think about it, but when it comes to Sparrow? It's clear he didn't even know she was gone, a surprised look crossing those features followed by a hapless shrug.

"Things. Colors?" He offers up a touch too innocently as he finally stops flipping the sketchbook, and a soft scoff comes from him, "No test." His head shakes back and fourth, a momentary look of true panic crossing his features, before up he hefts that book, turning it around so she can see.

That drawing is one that shows a handful of people on the top part of the poster, each with a horrible head of hair. One is all frizzy, another has been half chopped, a third looks like a haystack. The bottom half of the picture has Nicole in all of her fabulous hair glamour off to the side, while big text proclaims, 'HELP WANTED'. Beneath reads, 'Do you know what is wrong with this picture? / Do you have what it takes to fix it? / We. Want. You! / Help these pour souls out before they / CURL UP AND DYE / <address included>

Shrugging her shoulders lightly, Nicole smiles at Dylan. "I try.. I just, I know what it's like. I am not overly fond of most kids, but some kids?" She nods and touches her fingers to her heart. "They grow on me. Some."

Acquiescing with a lopsided grin she says, "sure. Colors... they imagine colors. Nothing but colors." Holding up her hand at the scoffing remark she adds, "fine... fine... no test, no teaching." She looks then to the sketchbook he holds for her to see, eyes scanning over the image while a pleased smile plays upon her lips. "I love it, Rink. I knew you would make something perfect. Truly love it!"

Dylan furrows his brow, giving Nicole a good and hard look over in a touch of disbelief. "You know?" It's hard for the man to picture just what issues she'd have experienced in her past, his mouth scrunching up in consideration, before his head bobs up and down in understanding when she says some of those kids grow on her. "Is gooood."

A warm bit of laughter comes from him when she agrees it is just colors they'd be picturing, and forward he leans, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Too bad." He murmurs, those eyes slipping down ever so innocently to her mouth, and then up he straightens, carefully pulling that paper free from the pad so it doesn't tear. It's handed over to her with that beaming smile, "Awesome!" The next thing to come out is a palette for keeping all the colors on, and then a collection of brushes. "Uhhhmmmm..." A blink comes, features scrunching up as he looks at the couch. "Paint here?"

"Yeah... like, I had shitty parents who didn't give a shit. Smoked and drank what little money we had, really. It's why I couldn't wait to get away... not that things were much better for me in the long run, but, I dunno. I have my own salon now, and my own place, and even though it's small and in the trailer park... it's nice. It's mine. I put work into it... so maybe it was worth me getting away. Maybe if I hadn't, I'd be smoking and drinking all my money away..."

This is about as real as Nicole has been with Dylan since they met, and her eyes reflect her inner child's sadness, but at the end, she shrugs and smiles. "So for those kids, I want to be one of those few moments they remember with a smile. Like, when they're out on their own, thinking back on how far they came. Maybe they will be like 'I remember that hair fairy who painted my nails sparkly pink and sang songs with me at the salon and told me I looked like a magical princess.' Some days, we all need to be told we look like a magical princess... or prince, or whatever... you know?"

She shrugs the moment off with a small sigh, then when they talk about the classes and the imaginings and he leans in for that whisper, she grins at him, that expression in her eyes brightening and turning a bit mischievous. "I said they would... not me." Seeing his eyes on her lips, she bites the lower one. "No telling what I might imagine."

"Oh..." she looks around and shrugs. "We can, if you think it is good? Unless you would like somewhere else? I mean... I'd have to close the curtains..." She has giant windows for such a small space. Not everyone gets a free show. Taking the ad, she sets that aside carefully so it doesn't get smudged, wrinkled, spilled on, or ruined in any way.

The artist listens to it all, his head tipping to the side this way or that, and when she mentions that it was worth getting away, that she has her own space? It is around the trailer he looks. His head bobs up and down, a few strands of hair flailing about with the effort, and there is every bit of sincerity in his voice when he looks back to her and smiles. "Doing good." He offers with approval. When she goes on to talk of those kids, it is amended to, "Very good.", even!

Up one brow arches at her own words of what she might imagine, and down his chin tucks to flash her a flirtatious look. "Very naughty." He concludes as to her other clear quality, and then laughter spills fourth, bright and rich from the man. When she asks if he'd prefer somewhere else? He looks around, those big blue eyes observant, and then his shoulders shrug, "Your choice." It takes a few seconds before he can expand upon that thought, tongue dipping out to wet against his lips. "Be comfortable." He finally gets out, as to what the most important thing will be. Curtains? Well, he leaves that up to her to figure out, once the place is picked.

At Outside The Waffleshoppe:
"I like it," she says of her home with a smile. "I did a lot of the repair work myself... not the mechanical, but the wood refinishing, painting, all that..."

Nicole gasps with mock offense, putting her hand to her chest. "Moi? Naughty? Why I never...." Her lips spread into a playful grin and she winks. "Just naughty enough, thank you. I think. As if you are the face of innocence." There is an eye roll, a definite eye roll. Looking around again she nods. "Yeah... here then, i guess." She is most comfortable here in the living area. it is where she spends most of her time when she is at home and not outside. And... she definitely wasn't going to do this outside. Rising from her seat she starts to move around the room closing the curtains. There are a lot of windows... was that mentioned? Two large ones on either side, one in the kitchen, one on the door, and at the front, one that spanned the width but ended higher than the top of the couch. "Did you bring like, leopard print for me to lay on or something? Just kidding... I uh, so.. yeah, never did this."

A small hrmph comes from Dylan as he eyes the hair dresser and that ever so innocent expression, one he himself wears all too often. With a swivel his head turns to look around the place, a new sense of admiration coming as she explains that she had tackled a lot of the repair work herself. "Very talented," He murmurs with sincerity. "However!"

Dylan pauses after that one word, clearly realizing it isn't going to make sense in a vacuum, and so while she busies herself with closing curtains, he sprawls out on the couch. To pose. The first has him propped up in the corner, one arm draped along his chest, his legs tilted so that, if one were picturing him nude, he'd still be modest by that placement and angle. He holds it for a couple of seconds before stretching out, that arm falling down to his stomach, and while still tasteful, it would reveal far more. His head lifts and tosses back, like he has a luxurious mane of hair, and he lounges a touch further, making it more sultry in the pose for the third, a minor difference. A beat of a pause, and then his shoulders lift into a hapless shrug. He swings around to fully sit up right, and out his legs sprawl, spread wide open, one hand draped over the couch, and the other? It pushes into his pants in what would surely be an extremely naughty pose. "Be natural." Is what he concludes after that multitude of options, all just examples rather than any specific one having to be chosen. "Be you!"

Closing one set of curtains, Nicole looks over her shoulder at the posing Dylan. She grins as he switches positions and she goes to the window on the other side of the room to close it as well. Turning, she places her hands on her hips and tilts her head, looking at him as he tosses his imaginary long hair about. Laughing, she heads to the couch to lean over it and him in his most sultry lounging pose to close the curtains at the front of the trailer. When she stands, he sits up with that shrug. His hand goes into his pants and her eyes open wide, her hand lifting to cover the dramatic 'oh my' look upon her lips. "And you say I am naughty...." tsk

There is a good-natured laugh and a shake of her head. "You are just too adorable for words," she says before looking down at herself. "so just.. strip and pose?" The arch of her brows rises in question. "I don't know any other way to be, than me." Reaching up, she unclips her hair, letting it fall loose and shaking it out so that it flows freely. "And.. music, we have to have music."

Dylan slides away from the couch once all of those curtains are drawn, and a broad, teasing smile is flashed towards the hair fairy for her words about being naughty. "Didn't deny," He claims, pointing to himself about his own behavior. With all of his tools in tow, he settles down onto the floor to give her the whole space to work with, and at first? It's just the canvas and a sketching pencil he picks up to start with. "I try!" He says about being adorable, a lopsided smile coming to his features, before his head bobs up and down with exaggerated motions. "Music!"

But it's the question she asks about stripping and posing that has his shoulders lifting up into a hapless shrug, those blue eyes sparkling with a touch of mischief. "Rip, pose?" He offers as the alternative for how she might find herself naked, though thankfully he doesn't demonstrate. It's just a second, and then he puts pencil and pad down, hands lifting to cover his eyes, as if this might help make getting undressed all the more easy for her.

"What kind of music do you like?" she asks as he settles in on the floor, getting all his tools ready. "I have a bit of an eclectic supply." A gesture is made with her hand to her Bluetooth speaker, a sort of languid flop/half point.

Rip? Nicole looks down at her simple outfit. "But these are my favorite lounging clothes...." A grin crooks one corner of her lips upward. "Well, all my lounging clothes are my favorite. I like to be comfortable." A laugh bubbles up as he covers his eyes. "You don't have to do that if you don't want, I mean, I'm fine with being nude. It's art and all." Turning her back towards him, she drapes a soft blanket over the couch. Standing, she then shimmies out of her shorts, revealing a pale pink pair of lacy thong underwear. Taking hold of the bottom hem of her long-sleeved tee, she pulls it up and over her head, hair lifting then cascading back down against her bare back. She doesn't even peek to look if his eyes are still covered or not.

Once nude, she sits on the couch, looking at it as if involves strategy and deep thought. She hmms and leans one elbow against the arm of the couch, shifting this way and that. Not seeming happy with that, she grabs one of the pillows and leans it against the arm instead. She starts to lean back, then grabs another pillow, settling it in the corner where the arm meets back of the piece of furniture. Leaning back then, body slightly turned toward him, her elbow settles on the seat cushion. A few position adjustments are made; her other arm draping across her body to partially cover one pert breast, slender fingers resting against her belly, just above her navel. Legs are next. She slightly twists to bring her knees up but finds that uncomfortable. Instead, she lays one down, knee bent and foot tucked into the corner, and rests the other over it, stretched out and foot held aloft in the air. She's still wearing the thong though.

She sighs, still not satisfied. bringing a sweep of her hair over her shoulder to cover one breast, she turns more towards her side, hand resting on her upper thigh, both feet now tucked towards the corner, though her legs are slightly askance, the top knee bent a little more forward and down than the other. "How is this?"

"Surprise me!" He states about music, and then there is just a beat of a pause before he creates one exception, "Not porno." It's said almost with a straight face, but it is next to impossible for Dylan to control those features, and a teasing, amused smile graces his features, creating half moon shaped eyes with just how big it gets.

Do his hands remove? Well, not at first. At first, fingers part just a bit so he can see a touch between them. And as clothes come off? Wider and wider gaps can be seen, until they are pointlessly held to the side of his head, and then he gives up the ruse at all, just dropping them down to retake up the tools of his trade. He waits patiently, in no rush for her to find the right, comfortable spot that she likes. "Gorgeous." He concludes as to the one she ends up in, but it is a peering look right back to her. "What think?" The pencil extends out to point to her, hopefully having the hair dresser parse through that inquiry in the right way with his limited set of words.

He's already sketching, but it is the surroundings he focuses on, the couch primarily, given that? That won't change much if she decides she isn't quite happy with how she is lounging just yet. "Nice underwear," He comments off handed, but rather than just flirtatious? It's quite sincere and warm. "Great color."

"That doesn't tell me what kind of music you actually -like-, Dylan," is said before she reaches for her phone and sets it on the cushion, within easy reach of the hand that will once again rest there after that retrieval. Surely he can edit out the phone. With deft fingers, she opens up her music file, swiping through until she finds something that interests her. Pausing, her brown-eyed gaze lifts to him to ask, "wait... by porn music, do you mean straight outta the seventies bow chicka wow wow... or anything somewhat like, sensual?" Her eyes narrow a little. This is an important distinction in what she chooses to play.

"I think... well, it's comfortable enough to hold for a time, and, maybe looks natural enough and a bit sultry? I'm happy with it," Nicole says, casting a glance over her body. "Unless I look awkward as fuck, then I'll move." She offers him a grin then snaps the pink lace at her hip before her hand rests upon thigh once more. "Thanks. I thought.. well, I like pink. I can take it off if it would make for better art. But sometimes, I think a little hidden is alluring. Sometimes."

"Bow chicka," He repeats ever so smoothly, and that smile she is flashed is broad and gregarious. There is a long moment it seems what he likes will be fully forgotten, before finally his head dips. "Eclectic. 80s," His features scrunch, waiting for that reset button to press, "pop. Rock." His head starts to bob a touch, and now? Now those ever so light lines are tracing the shape of her body once she seems satisfied, and he is still working on trying to get out his thoughts on music. "Up beat." He concludes, which surely must be a wide variety of things for the normally cheerful artist.

A warm bit of laughter comes from him, and his chin tucks down, those eyes lifting up, to give her a look. "Fucking. Sexy." He offers up with reassurance, and his eyes may well just linger a touch longer than they strictly need to before he returns to the sketching, mainly to get proportions right before he starts with the actual painting of it all. "Hidden good," He concurs, and as to the presence of that thong? There is that lopsided smile, minding neither way. "Your choice."

Most people would have a tough time not smiling back at Dylan when he smiles the way he does. Nicole doesn't even try not t. Her smile is bright and genuine as he begins describing his musical tastes. it takes him some time, but she is patient, looking through what apparently is a Spotify app on her phone as he does. "That covers a lot of ground," she comments when he is done. "Hmmm... how about..." She hits play and soon the music begins to be amplified from her speaker. (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/58Aw24GUJuwY1nvBPRaKvx) "If not this, I can find something else? Anything for the artist." She gives him a wink before settling back into her pose.

Which has been deemed 'fucking. sexy' by Dylan, of course earning a bolder smile from the blonde. Those two simple words also create a bit of a blush upon her cheeks as she meets his lingering gaze. Giving him a small nod she says, "hidden is good... so they shall stay for this piece."

It takes only a second of listening, and when that first song kicks up, his whole body bounces slightly to the tune, instantly recognizing it. She's hit pay dirt! "Perfect!" He coos out with delight, and then that sketch pencil is put off to the side. This time when he watches her, it's a touch more critical to try and piece out what colors he wants, both of skin, hair, pink thong and couch. A palette is taken up, paints found and put upon it, and then he truly starts to set out about the process of creating a painting of that lounging beauty. "Like music?" More than most, he probably means, to see if it is just something to listen to or something she spends a lot of time with, looking to give her things to think about to put her more at ease.

His head dips up and down in large motions of agreement when she concludes things will stay in place. The colors he starts with first is the couch, which surely makes sense as she's on top of it, meaning when he gets to painting her in, it will all be an overlay on any parts he makes small mistakes at. "Any family?" He asks of the blonde, giving something else for her to focus on rather than giving into any nerves or potential fidgeting.

He likes the music, so she lets the screen on her phone go dark, the tunes still playing over the Bluetooth speaker. Nicole watches him work as he sketches her, not feeling shy about the artist's eye roaming over her body. "Oh, I love music. All kinds, really, but, I listen to a lot of jazz, trap soul... um, I guess that's what its called. I heard it that anyway. I pay more attention to just... hey, I really like this... than to labels and stuff. I wish I had the talent to play it, but, I will instead be a happy consumer of it." She smiles. "I really like music that moves me in some fashion. Mostly. But, a good pop song to dance to is nice as well."

Her lips twist at the question of family and she gives a small shake of her head. "Nah... not like... really. Not anymore. Um... I have cousins around, I guess. But I never really knew any of the extended family. And... while I was gone, Dad died and Mom disappeared so... who knows." Her shoulders shrug gently, she's trying not to move too much. The subject doesn't seem to thrill her, but neither does it seem to affect her too much. She seems to be comfortable with where she is in respect to having a lack of family. "You?"

"Trap soul?" This seems to perplex him, giving Nicole a look like she might now be the Hair Fairy Voodoo Priestess for all he knows. It's the lopsided smile that gives away the fact he isn't really concerned, and his head bobs up and down at her last thoughts. "Mooove. Rhythm." Those are things he can very well relate to. His work seems to be in time with that music chosen, brushes occassionally washed out in the water, different shades blended together. It isn't nearly as fast as what he sketches, but given how much he does that? It shouldn't be a surprise.

"Parents. Local-ish." There is a faint smile flashed towards the woman at that, muted given the situation with her own, and he murmurs, "Sorry. Loss." Hopefully that will make sense to her in the way he intends, and if anything? Dylan is at least empathetic, picking up on those subtle cues, not pushing on this particular line of thought. "More weirdness?" He asks of her, curious to see if she's had further experiences of the seafood horror type, or otherwise.

"Mmm, it kind of blends soul, rap and R&B. Normally, I just hear a song and am like, I dig this... but I heard something I liked referred to as trap soul before so, I guess that's what it is? Unless they were completely wrong." Nicole laughs a touch. "A lot of the music I listen to has a super sultry bass to it. Like the song I danced to on amateur night... oh right, you left before that." Making a tsk sound, Nicole sets her eyes on Dylan. "Yes, music I can move to, with a good rhythm. Music I can feel. Like... feeeeel." Her hand moves to touch the center of her chest, fingertips rubbing her sternum a little before she places it back on her thigh.

Your parents were localish? But like, you went to THS and stuff, right?" She's pretty sure she heard Sparrow and him talking about it at the salon before. School. Shaking her head a little, causing her hair to shift a little over that one bare breast, she says, "don't be. They were shitheads. Both of them." There is clearly no love lost with her parents gone. "I mean, I know that sounds pretty shitty myself, saying I don't care that they are gone, but really, they were gone long, long before I left town. Here, but gone, you know?"

"Uh.... yeah.... There's just been a ton of things I don't understand." Her eyes wait for him to look up at her again, locking onto his blues. This is not something she feels comfortable talking about with most people. But he was there for one of those events. " Like, am I losing my mind?" Her eyes water just a bit before she widens them to stop that tearing up. "Like, I went to the Waffle Shoppe and saw someone get shot, but most people weren't even that freaked out, but the girl that was shot... she just... there was no body..." She frowns then and sighs, shaking her head. "Like, how does that happen? I swear I wasn't asleep. I had a damn craving for waffles! I drove there!" She pauses, concentrating on laying still. Less impassioned she says, "there's been smaller things too. Like, sometimes it seems doors open on their own, or lights come on or... I don't know." She pauses, asking him then, "am I crazy, Dylan?"

Dylan pauses in his painting to just stare when she explains what it is, and his features go cross eyed, clearly trying to puzzle it all together and how such a sound might, well, sound. Finally his head dips into a slow, understandable nod, as if he has managed to piece it all together. "Feeeeeeel." He repeats, though one eyebrow arches up when her hand starts to move, only going lopsided when it touches her sternum rather than somewhere else, given that mention of sultry music.

"Yeah." He says about where he went to high school, his head bobbing up and down in time with the beat as he picks the brush back up, now starting to focus on some of the shapes of the woman herself. "Lived here," There is a but there, though it takes a handful of seconds for his ability to talk to catch up, and only after a swallow does he continue. "Moved after." Which is likely what the localish part means. His mouth opens, closes, opens again, but still nothing comes out about her parents, forming just a sympathetic smile for the woman which hopefully expresses what he couldn't shove down into just a couple of words.

It must be moving on to a few finer details given his lapse into silence, peering down at his pad, and then her, back and fourth for what stretches into a couple of minutes before he pauses, features all scrunching up to regard her. "Not crazy." He finally concludes about the woman, and this time the hesitation in his voice is for completely different reasons, nose scrunched up. He's weighing something on his mind, inspecting Nicole for an entirely different reason now. He's clearly on the fence, before he murmurs, "Want proof?"

Nicole smiles with a bit of a laugh when Dylan goes cross-eyed. "Yes... feel. Like, well, here..." She takes her phone in hand again, fiddling with it. The song playing at the time stops and something a bit heavier in bass begins playing. (https://youtu.be/NO-yKRWTrz0). "So, this is the artist I first heard referred to as Trap Soul. Bishop Briggs." She listens to the song a little, head bobbing slowly and gently to the tempo. When that heavy layer of bass weaves in, her lips curl into a small smile, her eyes closing.

"Mmmm. I moved after too." she says then opens her eyes. "And now, here I am."

Letting the playlist go wherever it will, she gets back into her pose, though, his question to her has her tilting her head slightly. "Proof that I'm not crazy? Yes please... cuz right now, I am pretty convinced I am exactly that."

Dylan pauses in that painting for a bit to listen, his eyes closing as he considers, and his head bobs up and down with it, a movement that courses through his entire form after a moment. "I like." He concludes once it is done, and those eyes open, a beaming smile flashed to the hair dresser before he returns to the work at hand. "You are!" Here, that is, a lopsided smile flashing across those gregarious features of the man.

It's only when she says that she wants proof that he sucks in a deep breath. "Uuuhhhmmm," Those features scrunch up in uncertainty, but finally he gives a slow nod, hoping that this won't backfire. Those blue eyes close, a and for a long second, nothing happens. Nothing, that is, until Dylan's voice can be heard in Nicole's head, but he? He isn't talking. <Weird shit happens around here a lot. Like this. And... uhm, ok. Further proof, I guess? Just...> Another moment goes by before nothing happens, and then? Unless she tries to resist it, there is a feeling of happiness. True, bubbly, brilliant happiness that at least fits the way Dylan acts most of the time. It lingers for about thirty seconds, and then he closes that connection, and with it the feelings, letting her have her own mind, and emotions, back to herself.

Only then does one eye peep open, waiting to see how the hair fairy responds.

"I'm glad." Nicole smiles. "Oh... I could play you something else too. Like, the song I used at the Platinum, if you wanted." But, she gets distracted from the talk of music when they talk about Proof with a capital 'P'. She watches him, closely, eyes studying him with a furrowed brow until...

She can hear him. His lips aren't moving, but that's his voice. Her gaze starts to shift around the room as if looking for the source but... it's in her head. Her eyes twitch a little and just as she starts to feel tense, toes beginning to curl for all the wrong reasons... she stops. Closing her eyes, she lays back against the pillows she set up and giggles. She forgets about her pose, running her fingers through her hair, sweeping it all back as her other hand rests upon her bared chest. The tension leaves, and she just... enjoys. Enjoys life, enjoys giggling, smiling... and then...

It is gone. That bubbled up laughter slips away like a shadow retreating from the light, hiding... She opens her eyes and looks at him, unable to say anything for the moment, simply, looking at him. Her thoughts, perhaps, are overwhelming her. Her eyes glitter with a ring of tears that teases against her lower lashes like a tentative kiss. After what seems like a very long time, she whispers, "you... did that?"

He doesn't even move, and one may wonder if he even breathes while he waits to see how she reacts at the end. A slow swallow comes at her question, and his head nods just an ever so slight bit. "Yeah. Sometimes," It is the motion he makes that is ever so important, which way it flows. He first points to her, and then to himself, "Accidentally. Sketches," She might remember those ones that so perfectly seem to capture certain emotions, a loving couple, a sad widow over the grave. "Never purposefully." He adds on, as if that bit of consent is important to him.

He still doesn't move, tongue dipping out to sweep along his lips. It's that ring of tears that seems to have him ever so on edge, as if he's prepared to bolt at a moments notice if it all goes sideways. "I'm crazy?" His brow knits together as he asks it, before tentatively probing, "Watchya think?"

She spends some time letting it all sink in, what he's telling her, what he showed her. "You... felt their emotions when you were sketching? Or did you... make them feel?" Her mind flits through various different thoughts, half of them probably not making sense to her. "I heard your voice... your lips weren't moving, but I heard your voice but I couldn't tell what you were saying, or... were you saying anything?" Nicole's brows knit in confusion and she moves a little more, kind of forgetting the whole posing thing at the moment. She sits up, feet flat on the floor, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. Her hair hides much of her nakedness as it drapes over her shoulders.

"Have you ever felt like, what I was feeling? Or do you read thoughts too?" She pauses, then nods. "Yes... you are crazy, or I am. Or both. It's,,, it's not a bad thing." Is it? "How did you know? How... Just.. how?"

"First." He comments about which way it goes when he sketches, though one hand lifts in a wobbling, 'almost' motion, which he tries to clarify a few moments later. "Feel. Sketch." That sounds like the correct order of things, that some feeling gets caught up in him, and it makes him pick up the sketch pad. A tip of his head comes, brow furrowing, and then his head shakes just slightly at her question of if he's felt what she's felt. "Don't think..." so, likely, is that last word he meant to complete there, and a sheepish smile offers an apology for letting it hang like that.

It's a slow parting of his mouth, but it closes again, and once more she can sense that voice again, but this time? He makes certain the words connect, form in her mind. -Oh. Uhm. Hi. It is still a little tricky at times, you know? But, uhm. If you have 'it', whatever 'it' is, exactly, around here? You.. you might be able to talk back. But I can't read thoughts, no. Just sometimes flashes of emotions. It was sorta overwhelming in high school.- There is where he stops, pausing for a moment, before he murmurs, "Know what?"

She still doesn't seem to fully understand. "First, you feel their emotions, then sketch? Or you... give them feels then sketch?" She sighs, realizing she's asking questions in a way that makes it hard to answer in two words for him. "You feel, or you give?" Her head tilts again and Nicole asks, "is it... like. I felt happier. I mean, I was feeling happy already, but, it was like... happier. Is it your own emotion amplified? Can you... can you make people feel things you don't or they don't?" The way she asks these questions puts a lot of weight into them. Her tone of voice is low, quiet. Her word choice is careful, as if she is thinking of every single one.

"I'm not imagining this... right? You did that. Like, you actually... did that?"

Dark brown eyes grow wide as his voice is heard in her mind again. Within her head. His voice. Talking... in actual sentences.

Her hand lifts, elbow still on her knee. Bowing her head a little, enough to let her fingers gently press against her temple, she thinks...

-Overwhelming... he says.. in hi-

But maybe he heard that part. It is only a few words, and the way she continues to rub at her hairline still could lead one to think she is still thinking rather heavily about all of this. Her eyes are still locked on Dylan, maybe unnervingly so, but she didn't run from him, or throw things...

Suddenly, looking up she asks, "know what? Oh... oh, right... How did you know you could do this? How did you find out?" She frowns again with that worried expression and her fingers run through her hair.

It's the flood of words and questions that has his mouth quirking finally in a bemused expression, something he is likely far too used to in his life. He waits for her to boil it down to something simpler, and then a beaming smile comes to her. "I feel." Slowly he reaches out to pick back up his brush, and apparently he's memorized enough that he doesn't need her in that pose, at least not for now, as he starts to work while she processes. "Not imagining," He reassures, and then he lapses into silence to let her think it all through.

• Yeah. Overwhelming.- Comes the response in her mind again, a gentle nudge to show those words thought in her head were actually heard, at least a couple of them, for it is the only part he responds to. "Just happened." His whole features scrunch up, wanting to say more, but it's clear he doesn't want o swamp her with information by continuing to reach out to her mind.

"High school," It's his sketch pad he lifts up, as he murmurs, "In park." Carefully the painting is put down, and then he reaches out to that messenger bag, pulling out another. He flips through, finally finding a sketch that clearly isn't as good as he does these days, but it's still sharp. And more than that? It does a great job of having captured the somberness of a moment, a funeral procession that takes a casket towards an empty grave. "Overwhelmed. Accidental." He explains, and one can see the small shudder go through him at the remembrace. "/Had/," that word is emphasized so strongly like an obsession, "sketch."

Nicole watches him, trying to settle her thoughts, her own feelings on the matter. Her eyes follow the movement of his brush as he continues the painting, despite her having left her pose. She nods when he reassures her. After a fair amount of time in silence is spent, she asks in almost a whisper, "is it possible to make someone feel something... on accident Something, entirely... foreign to them?" Her dark gaze looks to his eyes, waiting for him to look up.

She hears him respond to her thoughts, but it doesn't register for her in that moment.

Nicole takes the offered sketch pad in her hands. Clearly an older one, possibly showing wear from being carried about. She is careful with it, as if being just a few years old makes it fragile... or perhaps it is that she understands the significance of what she is being allowed to look at. Her eyes look down to the sketch, slowly examining every detail upon the page. Brow furrowing, lips turning down in a pout-like frown, she asks him, "All these people, feeling their loss, their grief... you felt them all? All at once?" When her eyes meet his again, they once more glitter with tears. Shaking her head, she whispers, "just imagining all that pain...." She isn't even sure what to say after that.

"Yeah." His shoulders lift up into a faint shrug, eyes lifting up to look at her own as he speaks, "Lust. Sadness." The list could go on and on, but for obvious reasons, Rink can't manage to get any more thoughts out than that to elaborate even further. Instead, after those few seconds tick by, he just concludes, "Dangerous. Ask," Comes his statement of policy, motioning from him to her, as if that bit of agreement is always important, at least to him.

He settles back in to continue his painting, but it is down to the fine details down, little additions here and now. "Overwhelming," He murmurs, out loud this time when she speaks of what he felt, one shoulder lifting up into a hapless shrug. Dylan is ever so focused now on that painting, a low breath pushed out, "Not always," It's only the brush that moves, motioning vaguely to the image of sorrow, "Love. Happiness." It's just one more thought placed in her mind, his voice heard without needing to actually speak, - Made it ... still makes it ... hard to know which are mine and which are others. Want to control it better. - And then she can feel it, that connection between the pair removed, leaving her mind to herself, without fear of him peering inside to catch any stray thoughts unless she accidentally projects them to him.

"Dangerous....." Nicole says, looking towards the curtain covered window for a moment, handing the sketchbook back to Dylan. She lays back again with a sigh, not quite but almost into her original pose. Her hair is not so cleverly and modestly arranged as it was before, but she doesn't even give it a thought. "Asking seems important... yeah... if you know... or, something..."

Her legs are not bent as they were before. One hangs off the couch, foot on the floor, the other is bent up with the flat of her foot on the seat cushion. Laying on her back, her pert breasts are only slightly covered with wisps of hair. The arm that was once on her thigh it lifted, arced to rest above her head. "Yes, love and happiness... but in that sketch? That was pain. Sometimes... sometimes pain is beautiful, but... that was. I felt devastation." She is answering him now as if he is talking out loud. "Are you saying that when you sketched that you also felt love and happiness?" Resting on the pillow, she turns her head to look at him. "Love I can understand..." Watching him paint as his thoughts rest within her head, she asks. "But how do you learn to control it? How?"

"Dangerous." He repeats, "Make people," His head wobbles, giving a dip of it towards her as if in indication on how she acted with what he had given her with that happiness, a frown curling to the corners of his mouth. "Think lust." He offers up as the clearest, easiest example, before a sigh is pushed out. Those brushes are finally put down, made certain to be cleaned off, but he doesn't show off his work just yet, letting it all dry off and get settled.

While he takes note of those changes in her posture, in what is seen and displayed, nor does his gaze linger impolitely upon then, especially after what he'd just talked about. "Different times," He offers up as his explanation on the matter at hand about what he felt, and a finger points out towards her, as if she had the right of it on that sketch. "Pain. Sorrow." On control? His blue eyes go big and wide, his shoulders lifting up into a helpless shrug, and that expressive face clearly displays he wishes he knew the answer to that. "Dunno. Practice?"

Nicole gives a nod. "Dangerous," she says again. After all this, a grin, more like a smirk, finds its way to her lips and she can't resist commenting to Dylan, "I do not think you have to make people feel lust around you, Dylan. I think people feel that all on their own." It's an attempt at lightening the mood in the air right now, even if not a good one.

Nodding again in understanding before she turns to lay on her side, tucking her arms beneath her head to add to the pillow she leans on, Nicole says. "Sometimes... Well. There... " She sighs. "I have seen people go from like... one emotion to another so fast, or... so...weirdly. I wonder if maybe someone was affecting them. But, I think maybe they were just chemically imbalanced or something. But seeing, well not seeing, hearing? Witnessing? This. It does make me wonder...like, what if?" Pressing a palm to her forehead, she closes her eyes. "Have you ever felt guilty and you didn't even do anything? But you can't shake that feeling. No matter what you tell yourself?"

A 'pffbbbttt' sound comes from Dylan at those words, and he counters with a simple, "You tease!" Before that lopsided, warm smile curls to his mouth, and up he stands, but it is clear he's still listening. He heads over towards the kitchen counter, carefully removing the painting from the sketchpad and leaving it there. "Yours." He concludes about it, something for her to keep, and that tone show she wont' be dissuaded about it. Whenever she looks? It'll be a rather well done capture of her, and the surroundings, this time left as a realistic thing rather than any sort of fantastical elements added on. "Hmmm," he ponders, falling quiet for a second.

"Could be," He decides in agreement, not out of the realm of possibility as far as he is concerned. He picks his way over to the couch, coming to sit on the arm of the sofa that is by her feet, to leave her with ample room given that state of nakedness she's currently enjoying. "Living dreams," He says about seeing, hearing, witnessing, a low breath pushed out as if that is the best way he can describe it. Brows furrow together, and he casts a side long glance towards the woman, before asking, rather than giving an answer. "Feel guilty?"

Nicole smiles at Dylan and shakes her head. "No. I just tell the truth. You are handsome, and seriously fucking charming." When he gets up, she glances towards the counter where he is leaving the painting but doesn't get up yet to go look at it. However, when he sits on the arm of the couch, she reaches over for her top and as she moves to sit up, slips it on to give the man some sense of comfort (protection from her nakedness). Scooting to one side, so he can sit on the couch as well if he chooses, she says, "Living dreams. Like... shrimpapaults and french speaking crustaceans?" Her brow furrows. She still has trouble with that one.

Shrugging, she looks aside then. "Yeah like... um. Saaaaayyyy your boss is being a total prick and suddenly apologizes and stabs himself in the hand. Like, as he was being a prick, you're thinking... fuck you, boss! Go stab yourself!... and then he does. Now, you didn't say anything to him... but, you still feel guilty, even though he did it himself... right?"

He doesn't seem to really have a problem with nakedness himself, more giving her a polite bit of distance so she isn't glommed on when she may not be at ease with it all. "Yeah. Like.." Those things. His features scrunch up, and absently his hand lifts to rub at his shoulder, for it reminds him of just how he was also healed in that particular injury. "Bad dreams." He mutters, more to himself than her.

That example has a growing look of puzzlement and concern in his features, those blue eye widening with a touch of horror, amazement, and amusement, and when she finally says, 'right?' he goes, "Uhhhmmmmmmmm...." A peering stare is cast towards her, though it doesn't hold judgement, "Did you..." make her boss stab herself at some point? That seems to be the askance, at least, given his tone. "Sorta... fault?" A hand lifts, wavering, before he errs, "Not really." A hand lifts, tapping to the side of his head, "Unaware. Accidental."

Dark eyes, expression heavy with some unspoken emotion, set upon him. He disconnected from her before, so might not gather what it means. When he asks her if she did that to her boss, she shakes her head no, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. "No, of course not.... It was just a hypothetical example." Nicole's troubled gaze turns away and she rises to go to one of the windows, dressed in just that pink lace thong and long-sleeved tee. She doesn't open the curtains fully, but inches them apart enough for her to peek out of. "Probably didn't do anything at all... I dunno." She stands there a moment more then turns around, coming back towards the couch and sitting down again, smiling at Dylan. "But you! What you can do... I mean, it could be amazing... could be awful too. But... you could help people with what you do."

"If I ever super need to be cheered up, can I come to you?"

It's before she gets to the couch that Dylan moves to intercept her, giving a big, huge hug to the poor hair fairy. Those arms wrap around her and squeeze away, head tucking over her shoulder, and his voice coos out with certainty. "You're good." His hands pat against her back, and then he fully relinquishes, letting her find her spot on the sofa. That big, lopsided smile graces his features, eyes sparkling with mirth has he says, "Of course!" As far as helping people? A big shrug comes to him, never really having thought of it that way, and his teeth catch his lower lip. "Downsides."

He considers that for a few heartbeats, but this? This seems to have been enough to dump upon the poor woman, and he murmurs, "Another time." about what those downsides are, that is.

The hug is perhaps something that Nicole REALLY needed in that moment. When it happens, her arms wrap around him tightly and she buries her face against his neck. He might feel the flutter of an eyelash as she bats away threatening tears with a few blinks, he definitely hears a small sniff. Squeezing her fingers into a fist in his shirt as she gives one more squeeze before letting him go, she whispers, "thank you," as she takes that spot. "Yeah, I am sure there are downsides too... "

That, she doesn't seem to be eager to talk about right now either.

"Welcome." He murmurs, before Dylan comes to sit down on the end of the couch. He nestles in for a moment, giving Nicole those precious seconds to find her composure, before his head bobs up and down in agreement with her words, but he isn't in any rush to expand on it. His hands clasp over his lap, fingers threading together, and there is a gentle, "Sorry." That comes from him, though for what isn't said. Out comes a puff of air, those blue eyes flickering around the trailer, before he finally murmurs, "Need anything?"

Resting her elbow on the arm of the couch and her head in her hand, Nicole smiles to Dylan. "You've given me so much, painted me, and... well, you've given me a lot to think about too. I need a lot of things, Rink. But what more can I ask of you? Oh, well, I might need help with my costume for the Danse... but, that can wait. I don't even know what I want to be. I forget who at the Platinum suggested a goblin but yeah... I'm a me amidst a bunch of strippers... that's goblin enough> I don't have to emphasize how much more they are than me." She laughs. "Anyway... You are welcome to stay and chill if you want. I'll cook you dinner to thank you. Or... raincheck for another time." Grinning impishly she says, "I'll even put more clothes on."

"Beauty," A hand lifts up, a finger sticking out to waggle at her, "many shapes." And then it shifts to point towards her, that big lopsided smile curling to his mouth, "Beautiful." Slowly he begins to stand, hands brushing off his shirt, though he actually managed to avoid getting any paint on it, this time. It's into the kitchen he goes to grab a couple of paper towels, and then back to where all of his tools were at, "Inside. Outside." He clarifies about just where that beauty is to be found for the woman, before down he flops on the floor. "Raincheck!" He says after a quick glance to his phone and the time. Brushes are wrapped in those paper towels to help them dry, and then he goes through the process of stowing everything away, all except the palette that kept the paint on it, which is still a touch wet. "Awwwww..." Comes his disappointed noise when she mentions putting on more clothes, though his face is full of playful teasing. "Text. Anything." He says, likely meaning whatever she might need help with.

Smiling, Nicole says sincerely, "thank you, Dylan. You are pretty all-around amazing, inside and out, too." She rises up from her seat and helps him clean up. "Raincheck it is. I can't wait to show Joey this painting." Chuckling, she gives Dylan's cheek a smooch. "I will. You too... you know. Text me, anytime, about anything. Even just for a hello." She would continue talking to him and cleaning up until all his items were packed and he stepped out the door. Closing it softly behind him, she goes back to the couch and flops on it with a deep sigh. Folding her arm so that it covers her eyes, she slouches down, one long leg stretched out before her, the other resting normally, foot flat on the ground as she leans against the back. She has a lot to think about.