[She’s trying not to panic here. Doesn’t want to ask for too much, doesn’t want to undersell the amount of work she’s going to have to do. This is so complicated. If this entire situation doesn’t crash and burn - well, at least she can use it as a learning experience.
Her attention follows where he points. She squints, trying to judge the size of the pieces already on the walls with just her eyes. She’s so bad at this, but… it helps a little. She takes note of the estimates while he keeps talking and then—-]
Oh - like a triptych? [The thought seems to brighten her up.] That’s such a good idea. I can really work with that - thank you. A family of roses at morning, noon, and night. Pretty.
[Is she already scratching away at some crude little thumbnails? Maybe.]
[ what started with extending a helping hand ends with inspiration; the way august hears her say it's a good idea, how mia can work with it — he did something. he helps and not fucks up. a victory in itself as he reveals a pleasant smile and nods. ]
I'm excited to see the results, Miss Allen. It's been far too long since I've hired a painter for a piece of art. [ family portraits of his parents and himself as a lad that still hangs in the mansion as does the one of his own. even with what happened to them. ] "The object of Art is to give life a shape," says the Bard.
I’ll do some drafts first. See what you like most.
[Mia isn’t looking up, just keeps focusing on the open page. A smile tugs at her lips while she brainstorms. She has a decent idea already: Storybook. Something she’s always wanted to do. Granted it won’t be nearly as many illustrations as a typical children’s book would have - but it’s the same idea. And she likes that. It suits her sensibilities.
Something soft and warm and comforting. Dreamy. Notning dark or twisted or terrifying for once.]
You won’t be disappointed. Promise. [She finally looks up, gives him a direct smile. The pencil is placed in the book to free up her hand - her pesky hair needs to be tucked behind her ear.]
Um - can I look at the china? [She gestures back towards where they were sitting.] I didn’t think about the detail before. [This isn’t just a thinly-veiled attempt at asking for more food. Honest.]
Of course you can. [ he says with a nod. ] Let me or my staff know what else we can help you with should you require anything else.
[ whatever he can do to help continue the young girl's inspiration. whatever he can do to make sure she goes on with the motivation to live better than before — how he wishes he found the same during his own isolation from the world. ]
As my personal guest for today, this afternoon tea is free of charge. Feel free to stay until the service is done by five. [ he says as he makes a hand gesture towards the rest of the cafe. there's another waiter with a cart and various cakes — chocolate, strawberry, lemon — that stops by a table and slices several pieces for a group. ] I'll be off by five as well, so I'll be able to help you here until then.
[Her smile grows a bit bigger, sending her nose scrunching up.] Okay. Thanks. I should be out of your hair by then - don’t worry. [She shuts the sketchbook with the pencil inside and carries it with her back to their table. The cakes do catch her attention along the way and she nearly ends up staring at them. Sandwich time, dammit.]
Don’t worry about it. You go do you. I’ll be fine.
[He’ll barely even notice she’s there. Sure she’s clearing the plates that had been brought out for their tea spread in record time (the girl’s got a metabolism on her), but she’s also quietly observing and storing away details and images and ideas for later. She‘ll ask to come back for atmosphere, sure. But this is when she does the bulk of her planning.
If he watches her at all while she keeps to herself, he’ll notice her copying the details of the various pieces of china, taking into consideration the utensils and the table settings. The food itself. The menus. She keeps herself busy while she eats, her pencil rarely leaving her hand for more than a minute or two at a time.
She thinks about roses and flowers and gardens in general. Sometimes she uses her phone, plugging in search terms, adding things to her seemingly never-ending barrage of browser tabs. The time goes by quickly for her.]
Still here I see. I've been told you've been quite occupied the whole time.
[ from behind her is mr. brinkman, who dons a long coat and messenger bag. ]
Don't suppose I'm allowed a sneak peak? [ he asks as he grabs both sides of his coat and straightens it out. ] A jest. I know that would disrupt an artist and their vision — but unfortunately it's time to set up dinner.
[ three to five is tea time. five to six thirty is prep time. six thirty to nine is dinner before closing at ten. everything is scheduled and orderly and working even when he's out by five. any problems an he can be contacted if the manager he hired isn't around — oh, how a working ship keeps in tip top shape so long as its captain is there and his first mate if not. ]
[She blinks and looks up, her concentration broken. And then she turns around in her chair.] Oh! Hey - sorry. Yeah, I’m still here.
[She’s managed to clear almost all the food and polish off an entire pot of tea by her lonesome. A few pages of ideas and notes have been filled in her book. (She really needs to get a new one to keep these things separate.)]
You can look. I don’t mind. [Still opened, she slides the book over to the side so he can browse if he wants.] I can go if you need me to. But I’ll stop by again tomorrow if that’s cool? [She leans against the armrest, smiling a bit. If he has any questions or comments - he can share them. She’s really been busy. There are scribbled lists of words and phrases all over, little arrows pointing to things she’s sketched. Estimates of measurements. Notes regarding potential color palettes. Thumbnail sketches of the themes he requested. Just a jumbled mess of a brainstorm session.]
[ there's a shake of his head as if to say there's no need for apologies. inspiration is inspiration and one can't help but focus on the emotion that plays through the instrument that's a pencil, a paintbrush, or even coal. he understands because he's the same with his firearms. ]
Cheers. [ he says before taking a glance at the work in progress. ] Interesting what you have here. The building blocks of what's to come...
[ august doesn't forget that she says this is her first time to do commissioned work. a stepping stone, he hopes. ]
Come as much as you need should it help. Same time?
[ because he needs to tell the staff to give miss allen free afternoon tea. august has no doubt he can afford it — she is his guest after all. the artist who potentially can make the cafe even more beautiful. it's only right to treat them well, isn't it? ]
[Organized chaos - that’s how she functions. But she’s also beginning to plan ahead? In her head anyway. Which isn’t something she’s done in a long while. If she plays her cards right she can have drafts partially done by tomorrow, maybe complete by the next day. Just depends on how long this inspirational energy lasts.]
Can I stop by… earlier? Maybe? [No, she hasn’t forgotten that she needs to get a move on. She starts gathering her things together as they talk.] Wanna see how the light comes in through the windows. Get a real feel for the place before it gets super busy.
[ Complimentary tea when she arrives then. Tell staff before I leave today, he thinks while nodding. ]
Of course. We open up at nine, sharp. So long as you tell then you're my guest they'll treat you right.
[ just as august hopes from her: the sound of motivation. drive. familiar to his eyes and soul, so he hopes that is. it makes him think about what lays ahead for mia in this world and, perhaps, an art gallery in the future. that would be lovely, wouldn't it?
he closes the book and returns it back to her. ]
Whatever you need to look at, my staff can provide.
[A nod.] I’ll be here at nine. [Maybe not sharp, but - nine. Ish. She will set some alarms on her phone as soon as she’s out of sight.
Her things in her bag, she scoots the chair back and gets up from the table.]
I’ll try not to be too annoying. But thanks. See you tomorrow?
[She won’t end up sleeping. She’ll just be stuck in a manic, creative episode. Wide awake and working through the night like it means nothing. Hopefully he’ll like the drafts she shows him on her phone once she brings the photos to him.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Her attention follows where he points. She squints, trying to judge the size of the pieces already on the walls with just her eyes. She’s so bad at this, but… it helps a little. She takes note of the estimates while he keeps talking and then—-]
Oh - like a triptych? [The thought seems to brighten her up.] That’s such a good idea. I can really work with that - thank you. A family of roses at morning, noon, and night. Pretty.
[Is she already scratching away at some crude little thumbnails? Maybe.]
no subject
[ what started with extending a helping hand ends with inspiration; the way august hears her say it's a good idea, how mia can work with it — he did something. he helps and not fucks up. a victory in itself as he reveals a pleasant smile and nods. ]
I'm excited to see the results, Miss Allen. It's been far too long since I've hired a painter for a piece of art. [ family portraits of his parents and himself as a lad that still hangs in the mansion as does the one of his own. even with what happened to them. ] "The object of Art is to give life a shape," says the Bard.
no subject
[Mia isn’t looking up, just keeps focusing on the open page. A smile tugs at her lips while she brainstorms. She has a decent idea already: Storybook. Something she’s always wanted to do. Granted it won’t be nearly as many illustrations as a typical children’s book would have - but it’s the same idea. And she likes that. It suits her sensibilities.
Something soft and warm and comforting. Dreamy. Notning dark or twisted or terrifying for once.]
You won’t be disappointed. Promise. [She finally looks up, gives him a direct smile. The pencil is placed in the book to free up her hand - her pesky hair needs to be tucked behind her ear.]
Um - can I look at the china? [She gestures back towards where they were sitting.] I didn’t think about the detail before. [This isn’t just a thinly-veiled attempt at asking for more food. Honest.]
no subject
[ whatever he can do to help continue the young girl's inspiration. whatever he can do to make sure she goes on with the motivation to live better than before — how he wishes he found the same during his own isolation from the world. ]
As my personal guest for today, this afternoon tea is free of charge. Feel free to stay until the service is done by five. [ he says as he makes a hand gesture towards the rest of the cafe. there's another waiter with a cart and various cakes — chocolate, strawberry, lemon — that stops by a table and slices several pieces for a group. ] I'll be off by five as well, so I'll be able to help you here until then.
no subject
Don’t worry about it. You go do you. I’ll be fine.
[He’ll barely even notice she’s there. Sure she’s clearing the plates that had been brought out for their tea spread in record time (the girl’s got a metabolism on her), but she’s also quietly observing and storing away details and images and ideas for later. She‘ll ask to come back for atmosphere, sure. But this is when she does the bulk of her planning.
If he watches her at all while she keeps to herself, he’ll notice her copying the details of the various pieces of china, taking into consideration the utensils and the table settings. The food itself. The menus. She keeps herself busy while she eats, her pencil rarely leaving her hand for more than a minute or two at a time.
She thinks about roses and flowers and gardens in general. Sometimes she uses her phone, plugging in search terms, adding things to her seemingly never-ending barrage of browser tabs. The time goes by quickly for her.]
no subject
[ from behind her is mr. brinkman, who dons a long coat and messenger bag. ]
Don't suppose I'm allowed a sneak peak? [ he asks as he grabs both sides of his coat and straightens it out. ] A jest. I know that would disrupt an artist and their vision — but unfortunately it's time to set up dinner.
[ three to five is tea time. five to six thirty is prep time. six thirty to nine is dinner before closing at ten. everything is scheduled and orderly and working even when he's out by five. any problems an he can be contacted if the manager he hired isn't around — oh, how a working ship keeps in tip top shape so long as its captain is there and his first mate if not. ]
no subject
[She’s managed to clear almost all the food and polish off an entire pot of tea by her lonesome. A few pages of ideas and notes have been filled in her book. (She really needs to get a new one to keep these things separate.)]
You can look. I don’t mind. [Still opened, she slides the book over to the side so he can browse if he wants.] I can go if you need me to. But I’ll stop by again tomorrow if that’s cool? [She leans against the armrest, smiling a bit. If he has any questions or comments - he can share them. She’s really been busy. There are scribbled lists of words and phrases all over, little arrows pointing to things she’s sketched. Estimates of measurements. Notes regarding potential color palettes. Thumbnail sketches of the themes he requested. Just a jumbled mess of a brainstorm session.]
no subject
Cheers. [ he says before taking a glance at the work in progress. ] Interesting what you have here. The building blocks of what's to come...
[ august doesn't forget that she says this is her first time to do commissioned work. a stepping stone, he hopes. ]
Come as much as you need should it help. Same time?
[ because he needs to tell the staff to give miss allen free afternoon tea. august has no doubt he can afford it — she is his guest after all. the artist who potentially can make the cafe even more beautiful. it's only right to treat them well, isn't it? ]
no subject
[Organized chaos - that’s how she functions. But she’s also beginning to plan ahead? In her head anyway. Which isn’t something she’s done in a long while. If she plays her cards right she can have drafts partially done by tomorrow, maybe complete by the next day. Just depends on how long this inspirational energy lasts.]
Can I stop by… earlier? Maybe? [No, she hasn’t forgotten that she needs to get a move on. She starts gathering her things together as they talk.] Wanna see how the light comes in through the windows. Get a real feel for the place before it gets super busy.
no subject
Of course. We open up at nine, sharp. So long as you tell then you're my guest they'll treat you right.
[ just as august hopes from her: the sound of motivation. drive. familiar to his eyes and soul, so he hopes that is. it makes him think about what lays ahead for mia in this world and, perhaps, an art gallery in the future. that would be lovely, wouldn't it?
he closes the book and returns it back to her. ]
Whatever you need to look at, my staff can provide.
no subject
Her things in her bag, she scoots the chair back and gets up from the table.]
I’ll try not to be too annoying. But thanks. See you tomorrow?
[She won’t end up sleeping. She’ll just be stuck in a manic, creative episode. Wide awake and working through the night like it means nothing. Hopefully he’ll like the drafts she shows him on her phone once she brings the photos to him.]
no subject
[ with that said, august nods with a smile on his face before he heads towards the head of the house to give them instructions for the next few days.
this should be interesting, and already he wonders how the outcome will be. ]