Paintings would be lovely. I'm looking for grace and beauty in particular, but perhaps visiting the cafe will show you more of what I'm looking for as well.
I've seen your art before. They're eye-catching, and I hope it shows in your paintings.
[ as 3:30 PM approaches in the city, the lady grey cafe is crowded with the voices of chatty patrons enjoying their afternoon tea and the soft jazz music that plays in the background. a cafe that he tailors for himself mainly, but while in a city with no way to go home he'd have to find ways to earn money that isn't just shedding blood.
it works out when it's crowded during every meal rush.
august waits by a table with a view of the outside, sipping on hot tea as he waits for mia to arrive. the host is instructed to guide her to his table, which has a hot pot of his favorite tea — his cafe's namesake — on the table with plates set for two. a friendly gesture from a man who wants more paintings on the walls of his establishment. ]
[To say she’s nervous would be a massive understatement. Mia doesn’t really… do things like this? Commissions. Her work hardly ever gets noticed, so she’s taken to more conventional ways of making just enough money to scrape by. And even that doesn’t even work out most times. Her art is on the back burner, nothing more than a hobby she partakes in in her downtime. That’s it.
She’s too preoccupied with making herself look somewhat professional for an official work meeting. And that makes her rush to get there on time. A real domino effect. Showing up late would be the worst impression.
Her look is casual as ever, but at least she’s tamed her hair and put the slightest amount of makeup on. Just for funsies.
With her book tucked under her bad arm and bag slung over her shoulder she wanders inside his cafe, instantly enamored with the design of the place, how bustling it seems to be. There’s a lot to work with here already, and she’s opening her book to idly scribble some notes down while trailing behind the hostess.]
You’ve got such a beautiful place. [She isn’t sitting yet, just regards him with a bright smile as she walks in a small circle, pencil moving across the page. The book is open and balanced on her arm, held close enough to her chest so it doesn’t drop.] More than homey I’d say.
Thank you. I made sure that it would suit my taste, and for those who appreciate a good amount of elegance.
[ having tea in a diner hidden away from the public eye isn't new to him, but if he's stuck in this world for a while then he will make do with what he can. his little place in the world that's his. the old apartment he's already moved out of and into a better one that he's able to add additional structure to. can't be too careful with the various people he's seen so far.
august raises a hand towards the host who almost leaves, but they lean in and say, "Yes, sir?" ]
Bring out the prepared tower. [ "Yes, sir." says the host as they leave towards the counter. august turns back towards mia. ] Please, Miss Allen, have a seat. I've prepared this set myself — aside from the scones that is, but it's my recipe anyway.
[ it isn't long until a waiter arrives with a three tier tower. the same exact design other patrons of the cafe have: three tiers of food fit for afternoon tea. the first layer consists of five different sandwiches, the crusts cut off and placed neatly aside from the fifth that rests above the four with the flavors: coronation chicken, egg salad with cress, smoked salmon with lemon butter, cucumber with mint and dill cream cheese, and finally cured ham and mustard. the second tier has two kinds of scones — plain and with raisins — alongside strawberry jam and cream set in place. the third and final tier are the baked goods that he creates a few hours back. ]
Is that your work in your hands?
Edited (LAST EDIT I PROMISE) 2023-05-16 11:07 (UTC)
Well you got plenty of that. [Mia hardly looks up from her scribbling, just occasionally glances around to take in a quick detail or flash a little smile in his direction. Still not sitting. Too much anxious energy.]
Hm? You cook too? What don’t you do?
[Oh. Oh. That’s a lot of food. She catches herself staring. Is her stomach growling? Of course it is. Hopefully the noises aren’t too loud. Always hungry this one. (Not her fault.)
She finally decides to plop into her proffered seat when he asks about her book.]
Yeah! This is uh - mostly sketches? But there’s charcoal, ink, some color work. A little bit of everything.
[She closes the cover over, then holds it out for him to take. She really does mean “a little of everything.” When he flips through he’ll see mostly unorganized pages filled to the brim with art of every possible kind. Realistic line work, fantastical highly-stylized scenery. People, things. Some pieces are light and carefree, others dark and twisted. Highly personal, wholly impersonal. Just what she drew from observation and what she pulled out of her head are difficult to distinguish between.]
Haven’t painted in a while but I think I have some photos on my phone if you want to look. [And she starts fishing it out.]
Yes, absolutely. [ august says as he leans back in his chair, and opens up mia's sketchbook. ] I'd like to see what your skills can do.
[ he wants to pay her, but what she creates must be good for the cafe. it shouldn't push present and future customers away — maybe even welcome back past customers who miss the atmosphere and delicacies it can offer. wow him just like he keeps the audience wide-eyed back in the games with the skills he has and continues to develop.
What do you get the billionare who has everything? he asks himself before. though not as rich as he is back home — how are nathaniel and sok leng? — he's gained enough to live better.
with a wave of his hand towards the table, august speaks: ]
Help yourself. You're my guest, and I would be a terrible host if I didn't offer you anything. There is a delicious and perfectly steeped pot of Lady Grey that goes well the sandwiches and scones. [ he flips another page of her sketches, and another that has him raise his brows. ] How long have you studied art?
[Phone is retrieved from her bag, and Mia busies herself with swiping through it. Does she have a folder...? Maybe. Somewhere. There's so much stupid shit on her phone it's a joke. But there should be -
She looks up, pointer finger brushing over the screen of her phone. Her eyes follow the gesture of his hand. Yes - that's definitely food. She was trying to ignore it. But now that he's said it's okay, she hurries up and gently places her phone down in front of him so he can browse the album of painting photos. Then she's gingerly plucking little sandwiches to pile up on her plate.]
Thank you. [A sheepish little smile.] Uh - well. I've always drawn, took classes in school. I was an art major in college. [The slightest shrug of her shoulders. He doesn't need to know she never completed it.] Most of my life? I guess?
[She picks up a sandwich and starts nibbling at it. Ham. Good.]
[ a hum escapes his throat as he flips her sketchbook page by page as well as look at what art her phone holds. interesting art that she has — good. classy. perfect as a portrait in some parts of the cafe, and others that has him take a sip of the warm black tea that resides in his cup. what inspires her to create such art? what drives her? what resides deep in ms. allen's heart to create such darkness?
now he would be a hypocrite to ask, and it's ungentlemanly to do. instead, august looks up towards her. ]
There's beauty with your paint and coal. It makes me wonder why you haven't made your skills available — aside from my requests, this could bring in money for you.
[ but at least that's a valid question to ask, right? ]
[He's looking through her book and she keeps looking at him but trying not to make it too obvious. The nerves has gotten hold of her something fierce. She's already done with one little sandwich - it was delicious and easily gone in a few bites - and she's starting on a second one. He said she could eat... but she really should pace herself... but she's hungry. And anxious.]
Oh - uh. [She holds up her hand, covers her mouth with it to hide all her chewing. Then puts the sandwich down as an afterthought before doing a better job of covering her mouth with a napkin instead.] I'm glad you like it. Thank you. [Her head ducks a little. She's shy all of a sudden.]
I just... haven't gotten around to it? I guess? It's difficult to stick to schedules and deadlines, I just - do my own thing. Whenever.
[She's lying through her teeth, but only partially. Can't let him know she's pessimistic in regards to her talent. Her worst critic is herself, and she always has been.]
[ im desperate ok how am i spposed 2 pay 4 a masseuse when i cant even pay my rent lmfao
he doesn't forget the text he receives earlier that day. the reason he wants to buy mia's paintings — maybe one would choose the words pity and charity, but he wants to believe it's giving her a chance as well. one where she can find her opportunity to shine and, he hopes, find a spark to continue on.
painting should be a good start. august knows she's good at it. ]
I understand schedules and deadlines. [ august isn't a human lie detector. instead, he decides to place his trust in mia's words. ] Though I would like to have three paintings done within one, two months? How long would you say it would take?
Three? [She nearly chokes on the bite of sandwich she tried sneaking during the conversation. Hold please. Her hand curls into a fist and she thumps at her chest a few times. Following it up with a sip of tea.]
Fuck - uh. S-Sorry. Yeah - yeah I can definitely do that. Give or take a week? Maybe? Depends on what you were looking for.
[She gestures at the book. Her hand is shaking a bit. Nerves. She needs to take notes, so if he could just hand it back to her…]
…What were you looking for? Specifically? I can do anything. [As exhibited by the examples she’s shown him.
And here she thought she was just going to do a portrait.]
I'm looking for the kind of painting that, when someone sees it for the first time, mutters "beautiful" as they take a seat. It also has to compliment the decor — actually. Come along.
[ with a wave of his hand towards mia, august gets up on his feet before straightening out the blazer of his outfit. he also raises a hand towards a waiter that walks towards them before shaking his head — leave it because they'll come back. what he doesn't stop them doing is a restock as another waiter walks over with a plate of various sandwiches, refilling the tower with what's missing.
august guides her over towards another part of the cafe, where it's adorned with lights and wonderful paint and yet — ]
These two walls [ one adjacent to the other. ] may be decorated, but they lack pieces of art that I'd like to put up there. I desire something graceful, and modern yet with a touch of classical. To be more specific, I want... flowers in the painting. In the morning, afternoon, and night.
[Mia smiles, giving slight nods of her head as she listens. When he tells her to follow, she does. Book open, pencil in hand, she goes where he leads her without a second thought.
She’s already sketching quick thumbnails, leaving notes in regards to what he would like. Three pieces, flowers, morning-noon-night.]
Do you have a favorite flower? What about color? [Her pencil keeps moving and she doesn’t look up, at least not for the moment.]
[ where mia says you, there's only one person in august's mind as he replies: ]
Roses. [ the rose bushes at home predate his existence, but he remembers sok leng enjoying them. the way he can always pluck one straight from the garden — he cuts off the thorns — and give it to the woman that holds his heart in her hand. ] The vibrant red kind that represents love and passion — they have to be the star of the show.
[ in the back of his mind, august takes a mental note to look for pottery, rose seeds, and good soil in this world. perhaps he can grow some here as well. it would bring some more life in his new apartment despite already having some plants... how could he forget about roses in the first place?
Shameful, August. You're forgetting things. he thinks to himself. ]
[He says roses and she scribbles that down. It’s a classic choice - but red? A vibrant shade? Doesn’t really fit with the decor. She can make it work though. It’s whatever he wants. The gears are already turning inside her head.]
‘Course. No problem.
[Hm.] Depends on canvas size? Amount of detail… I can send you an invoice. Really need to think about it. [And look up how much people usually charge for these things??? She has no idea.]
[ if the both of them were back home on gaea, august would respond with: money isn't an issue. it never will be when he's the billionaire who has nearly everything, but in this world it's different. he had to save and invest in various businesses while doing a little more work on his own until he's finally in the comfortable present, but that doesn't mean he can blindly give whatever amount he feels like.
august would, however, like mia to suffer less; he nods. ]
I'd like for it to match the other paintings sizes, [ he says as he waves towards the others as an example. ] but I wouldn't mind, say, three smaller paintings that can fit together so to speak. Like a set that enhances each other — like a family, so to speak.
[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? ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I've seen your art before. They're eye-catching, and I hope it shows in your paintings.
I'll see you later then. Be well.
no subject
i can do that no prob
i dont have a fancy portfolio or anything
BUT i can bring some things 4 u to look @
in case ur worried lol
im not the most trad
but im good
promise
ill c u there :)
no subject
it works out when it's crowded during every meal rush.
august waits by a table with a view of the outside, sipping on hot tea as he waits for mia to arrive. the host is instructed to guide her to his table, which has a hot pot of his favorite tea — his cafe's namesake — on the table with plates set for two. a friendly gesture from a man who wants more paintings on the walls of his establishment. ]
no subject
She’s too preoccupied with making herself look somewhat professional for an official work meeting. And that makes her rush to get there on time. A real domino effect. Showing up late would be the worst impression.
Her look is casual as ever, but at least she’s tamed her hair and put the slightest amount of makeup on. Just for funsies.
With her book tucked under her bad arm and bag slung over her shoulder she wanders inside his cafe, instantly enamored with the design of the place, how bustling it seems to be. There’s a lot to work with here already, and she’s opening her book to idly scribble some notes down while trailing behind the hostess.]
You’ve got such a beautiful place. [She isn’t sitting yet, just regards him with a bright smile as she walks in a small circle, pencil moving across the page. The book is open and balanced on her arm, held close enough to her chest so it doesn’t drop.] More than homey I’d say.
no subject
[ having tea in a diner hidden away from the public eye isn't new to him, but if he's stuck in this world for a while then he will make do with what he can. his little place in the world that's his. the old apartment he's already moved out of and into a better one that he's able to add additional structure to. can't be too careful with the various people he's seen so far.
august raises a hand towards the host who almost leaves, but they lean in and say, "Yes, sir?" ]
Bring out the prepared tower. [ "Yes, sir." says the host as they leave towards the counter. august turns back towards mia. ] Please, Miss Allen, have a seat. I've prepared this set myself — aside from the scones that is, but it's my recipe anyway.
[ it isn't long until a waiter arrives with a three tier tower. the same exact design other patrons of the cafe have: three tiers of food fit for afternoon tea. the first layer consists of five different sandwiches, the crusts cut off and placed neatly aside from the fifth that rests above the four with the flavors: coronation chicken, egg salad with cress, smoked salmon with lemon butter, cucumber with mint and dill cream cheese, and finally cured ham and mustard. the second tier has two kinds of scones — plain and with raisins — alongside strawberry jam and cream set in place. the third and final tier are the baked goods that he creates a few hours back. ]
Is that your work in your hands?
no subject
Hm? You cook too? What don’t you do?
[Oh. Oh. That’s a lot of food. She catches herself staring. Is her stomach growling? Of course it is. Hopefully the noises aren’t too loud. Always hungry this one. (Not her fault.)
She finally decides to plop into her proffered seat when he asks about her book.]
Yeah! This is uh - mostly sketches? But there’s charcoal, ink, some color work. A little bit of everything.
[She closes the cover over, then holds it out for him to take. She really does mean “a little of everything.” When he flips through he’ll see mostly unorganized pages filled to the brim with art of every possible kind. Realistic line work, fantastical highly-stylized scenery. People, things. Some pieces are light and carefree, others dark and twisted. Highly personal, wholly impersonal. Just what she drew from observation and what she pulled out of her head are difficult to distinguish between.]
Haven’t painted in a while but I think I have some photos on my phone if you want to look. [And she starts fishing it out.]
no subject
[ he wants to pay her, but what she creates must be good for the cafe. it shouldn't push present and future customers away — maybe even welcome back past customers who miss the atmosphere and delicacies it can offer. wow him just like he keeps the audience wide-eyed back in the games with the skills he has and continues to develop.
What do you get the billionare who has everything? he asks himself before. though not as rich as he is back home — how are nathaniel and sok leng? — he's gained enough to live better.
with a wave of his hand towards the table, august speaks: ]
Help yourself. You're my guest, and I would be a terrible host if I didn't offer you anything. There is a delicious and perfectly steeped pot of Lady Grey that goes well the sandwiches and scones. [ he flips another page of her sketches, and another that has him raise his brows. ] How long have you studied art?
no subject
She looks up, pointer finger brushing over the screen of her phone. Her eyes follow the gesture of his hand. Yes - that's definitely food. She was trying to ignore it. But now that he's said it's okay, she hurries up and gently places her phone down in front of him so he can browse the album of painting photos. Then she's gingerly plucking little sandwiches to pile up on her plate.]
Thank you. [A sheepish little smile.] Uh - well. I've always drawn, took classes in school. I was an art major in college. [The slightest shrug of her shoulders. He doesn't need to know she never completed it.] Most of my life? I guess?
[She picks up a sandwich and starts nibbling at it. Ham. Good.]
no subject
now he would be a hypocrite to ask, and it's ungentlemanly to do. instead, august looks up towards her. ]
There's beauty with your paint and coal. It makes me wonder why you haven't made your skills available — aside from my requests, this could bring in money for you.
[ but at least that's a valid question to ask, right? ]
no subject
Oh - uh. [She holds up her hand, covers her mouth with it to hide all her chewing. Then puts the sandwich down as an afterthought before doing a better job of covering her mouth with a napkin instead.] I'm glad you like it. Thank you. [Her head ducks a little. She's shy all of a sudden.]
I just... haven't gotten around to it? I guess? It's difficult to stick to schedules and deadlines, I just - do my own thing. Whenever.
[She's lying through her teeth, but only partially. Can't let him know she's pessimistic in regards to her talent. Her worst critic is herself, and she always has been.]
no subject
how am i spposed 2 pay 4 a masseuse
when i cant even pay my rent lmfao
he doesn't forget the text he receives earlier that day. the reason he wants to buy mia's paintings — maybe one would choose the words pity and charity, but he wants to believe it's giving her a chance as well. one where she can find her opportunity to shine and, he hopes, find a spark to continue on.
painting should be a good start. august knows she's good at it. ]
I understand schedules and deadlines. [ august isn't a human lie detector. instead, he decides to place his trust in mia's words. ] Though I would like to have three paintings done within one, two months? How long would you say it would take?
no subject
Fuck - uh. S-Sorry. Yeah - yeah I can definitely do that. Give or take a week? Maybe? Depends on what you were looking for.
[She gestures at the book. Her hand is shaking a bit. Nerves. She needs to take notes, so if he could just hand it back to her…]
…What were you looking for? Specifically? I can do anything. [As exhibited by the examples she’s shown him.
And here she thought she was just going to do a portrait.]
no subject
[ with a wave of his hand towards mia, august gets up on his feet before straightening out the blazer of his outfit. he also raises a hand towards a waiter that walks towards them before shaking his head — leave it because they'll come back. what he doesn't stop them doing is a restock as another waiter walks over with a plate of various sandwiches, refilling the tower with what's missing.
august guides her over towards another part of the cafe, where it's adorned with lights and wonderful paint and yet — ]
These two walls [ one adjacent to the other. ] may be decorated, but they lack pieces of art that I'd like to put up there. I desire something graceful, and modern yet with a touch of classical. To be more specific, I want... flowers in the painting. In the morning, afternoon, and night.
[ three paintings. three moods. ]
What else do you need to know of my request?
no subject
She’s already sketching quick thumbnails, leaving notes in regards to what he would like. Three pieces, flowers, morning-noon-night.]
Do you have a favorite flower? What about color? [Her pencil keeps moving and she doesn’t look up, at least not for the moment.]
no subject
Roses. [ the rose bushes at home predate his existence, but he remembers sok leng enjoying them. the way he can always pluck one straight from the garden — he cuts off the thorns — and give it to the woman that holds his heart in her hand. ] The vibrant red kind that represents love and passion — they have to be the star of the show.
[ in the back of his mind, august takes a mental note to look for pottery, rose seeds, and good soil in this world. perhaps he can grow some here as well. it would bring some more life in his new apartment despite already having some plants... how could he forget about roses in the first place?
Shameful, August. You're forgetting things. he thinks to himself. ]
How much will you charge for all three?
no subject
‘Course. No problem.
[Hm.] Depends on canvas size? Amount of detail… I can send you an invoice. Really need to think about it. [And look up how much people usually charge for these things??? She has no idea.]
no subject
august would, however, like mia to suffer less; he nods. ]
I'd like for it to match the other paintings sizes, [ he says as he waves towards the others as an example. ] but I wouldn't mind, say, three smaller paintings that can fit together so to speak. Like a set that enhances each other — like a family, so to speak.
[ god he misses them. ]
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.]
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[ 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.
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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.]
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[ 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. ]
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[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.]
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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? ]
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