( open ) everything else was just remembering.

[wising]

It isn't a feeling Sarah is used to anymore.

Boredom.

It has been a long, long time since she's been able to stand still, and she finds, more often than not, she does not know what to do with this stillness. Being on the ship means having an imposed vacation from her real life and her real problems, and while she can't say she's entirely against that - it also feels like hiding. Pretending. Waiting can be more excruciating than having no time at all, and Sarah would know. For the first eighteen years of her life, she thought she wouldn't have the time to wait.

Now she has it to spare, and she is reacquainting herself with pleasures she's forgotten; watching old school movies while indulging in chocolates and staying up late into the night to watch the stars. These pleasures are age-worn in her memory, like a picture that is fading. She also finds, like most people do, some things are like riding a bike. A sketchpad and charcoal pencils have been located, and the rest becomes simple.

There is a bar by the pool and there is a fallen angel by the bar. She holds the sketchpad in one hand and the charcoal pencil in the other, like she is remembering.

She will offer to draw a face portrait to anyone who is interested, like she did the first day she ever arrived to Chicago.

There's a symmetry to that.


( ooc: prose or spam, i will match you! )

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[wising]

Sarah smiles a tiny bit, and shakes her head in negative.

She doesn't smoke, but she knew someone who did, a very long time ago. It's why the sight of the cigarette makes her smile. Glancing down at her notepad, she contemplates the question. "... Actually, I'm looking for people who wouldn't mind if I did portraits of them. You interested?" she asks, lifting up her charcoal pencil and tapping it lightly against her cheek.

He seems like an interesting man, one who has many stories to tell or conceal. It means she'd like to sketch him.

[altor]

Nathaniel nods in reply and shoves the pack back in his back pocket. He's quiet for a while, alternating between taking drags and shorts of his whiskey. It's very calming, calm being something he hasn't been in a long time. It's strange and comforting all at the same time.

He pauses for a moment, thinking it over. He points to himself. "This face?" he's actually amused. Ah, hell. He'll humour her. She seems like a nice kid, so why the hell not? He chuckles and moves down the bar to side beside her. "Sure, no one's ever drawn me before. Could be fun."

He is certainly a man of stories, he never conceals them, but just rarely talks of them.

But first, introductions. "Nathaniel." he says, offering a hand.

[wising]

"Sarah," she says, without missing a beat.

She shakes Nathaniel's hand, something about him almost familiar - though she is certain she has never met him before. Her memory isn't fuzzy like it used to be. "And why not your face?" she asks, amusement thinly veiled.

Curiosity often gets the better of her when it comes to people's answers.

They're more revealing than most understand, and it helps her capture their faces better.

[altor]

Nathaniel takes a long draw on his cigarette and flicks ash into a nearby ashtray as he considers the question. It’s a good enough question, but not one he has an easy answer for.

“I don’t know.” He says after a short pause. “Never seen myself as havin' an interestin' face, I’m just… a kind of background guy.” It’s a lame response, he knows. Or maybe too simple of a response, too quiet. He feels the need to expand on it.

“I’m a body guard. No one pays attention to the body guard, they’re more focused on the person that body guard is protectin’.” He explains. “Everyone else seems to become background noise. It’s… not a bad thing to be, there’s a degree of privacy and peace to it.”

He takes a small sip from his drink. “It’s a nice juxtaposition considering the job I do.” He says as an afterthought.