forum The Artist’s Muse O/O- closed (stalkers will get some nice art)

Started August 28, 2021 by @Tired-but-passionate

tune

Softly, he hummed in response. He bit on his bottom lip in hopes of containing any laughter that could possibly slip out. Even over the phone, Neci felt this calm and gentle aura about Mister Ashton; he really liked that. He tried not to get jazzed about the day before overmorrow. Too much giddiness would make him very confident, and it could lead him to disappointment if he did not get the job. Yet, Mister Ashton though. There's just something about the man that piques his interest; maybe he'll find out the day before overmorrow.

"Allergic?" The word felt strange on his tongue. It took his mind a good bit to figure out the question. Despite being fluent in three languages, his mind was always getting stuck switching from one to the other, especially when it comes to words he rarely use. With his lips, he mouthed the word over and over as hid mind picked apart the question. A slow exhale came from his nose as he reclined back in the chair.

After a few moments passed by, his peepers widened. He sat up in the chair, grabbing the mouthpiece to bring it closer to him. "Ah…No, I am not allergic to cats," He responded. "I….I do quite well with them as well, so they should not be a problem." He guessed that Ashton owns a purr machine or two; he wondered if he let the purr machine in while working on a painting or what the cute little thing is like. Cats were always a favorite of his, though he never owned one.

"I hope that it would be alright if I do arrive fifteen minutes early," He added. "Even if it is not, I will do my best to be there on time either way….I…uh…know that people are very pressing about time so it should not be a worry. After all, I assume that colormancers are keen on time as well, no?"

After Mr. Bathory repeated the word and there came a stretch of silence, Jayme felt a rush of heebie jeebies in his human syrup. His hands began to shake badly and his muscles stiffened, but he tried to focus on stroking Arty and consuming oxygen to produce carbon dioxide deeply. Had there been some sort of miscommunication? Did the other man not understand? Or had Jayme misspoke, and made things awk-wonky-donky? What had he said right?
The receiver began to rattle slightly in his shaky hand, and he placed his other hand there to still it. Calm yourself. Surely it’s not as bad as you think it is. Meanwhile, the purr machine mewed in annoyance that he had stopped giving her physical attention. She bumped her head against Jayme’s arm, and he sighed shakily, leaning away from the mouthpiece again. Scratching behind Artemisia’s ear calmed him somewhat, at least. It seemed to calm her, too.
Then suddenly Bathory’s voice cut through the silence again and Jayme leaned closer to the mouthpiece. “O-oh, good,” he said, finding his voice to be rather shaky too. He cleared his thought before continuing, “that’s wonderful to hear. My little pussycat is the curious type, so I simply hope she won’t be too disruptive.”
“It is alright either way sir,” he said. “If you want to be a bit early, then I will be early as well.” He forced a chuckle. “And yes, it’s important for colormancers to be on time. Sadly, I think I’m only good at being on time with my work, and nothing else.”
Was one supposed to say things like this before a job interview? Jayme wasn’t sure, and yet it was very easy to say these things to Mr. Bathory. He would’ve felt almost comfortable, though he couldn’t decide if being unable to see the other man’s face helped or not. Whatever the case, he was just very easy to talk to.

Neci tilted his head, pressing the receiver closer to his ear. It sounded like there was a strange noise on the other end. The tone and shakiness of Ashton's voice also caught his attention. Did he do something right? Perhaps he had, and before the actual interview too.

For a second there, the corners of his lips turned down as he shook his head at himself. It probably had to do with the fact his mind wasn't used to such a simple word like "allergic". But how could he explain to someone who could potentially be his boss? His accent already is a dead giveaway, yet somehow it's even more worse once he explains that he's from Hungary. Not surprisingly people's sentiments from the war haven't died down yet.

Another small laugh left him as he eagerly nodded in response. "Ah…I see. That is perfect, I will be there on time anyway," He promised. Maybe it would be alright to tell him. It is already interesting how they are talking about things that necessarily don't relate to the position. Sitting on the edge of the chair, he licked his lips. "Also, my apologies for the inconvenience from a moment ago….English is not my first language so some words still feel laffy taffy to me. I only didn't speak for a while because my mind was trying to understand what you were saying…"

Hopefully he didn't make Mister Ashton feel very uncomfortable. He really prays that he didn't despite hearing the other man's voice shake. Things must only be strange since they are on the phone. the day before overmorrow it will be better since it's the actual interview and he will get to meet Mister Ashton in person.

"Oh. Before we end this call, I want to make sure that I understand everything for the day before overmorrow. Three o'Small Ben. The building is at the corner of 21st and Ingle, brown building, Ashton Place….." He said, while his peepers scanned his notes. Tapping the whimsy flimsy mark and scribbler against the end table, he nodded before speaking again. "And then you have a purr machine who is very curious. Did I get everything right?"

Setting down the whimsy flimsy mark and scribbler, he held up the paper in his hand. On the upper right corner were his little notes that he had written not too long ago. He smiled even though his right leg started to bounce. This could only mean the beginning of something new, a new job with a caring and kind boss; if he passes the interview and gets the job that is.

Artemisia had begun to wander over to his workspace, so Jayme quickly leaned over to grab the purr machine and tuck her under his arm. This earned him a meow of protest.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Arty,” he muttered quietly. Then his peepers widened and he breathed a sigh of utter relief. He would’ve put a hand over his chest if his hands weren’t full. So he didn’t do anything to make things awk-wonky-donky! That was the most wonderful thing he could hope for during this call.
“Oh, of course! That makes a lot of sense; I was worried there for a moment,” he said, chuckling a little. “I‘ll understand if it happens again in the future, sir. I only hope that communication between us isn’t awk-wonky-donky or strained or… on bad terms.”
Besides, better a model who has English as his second language than no model at all.
The purr machine mewed pitifully again, so Jayme set her on the ground as he listened to Mr. Bathory continue. He chuckled again at the last bit. “Yes, that sounds about right. I’ll see you the day before overmorrow, then?”
He couldn’t decide if he was jazzed or terrified now. Either way, he could feel the adrenaline making him shivery. He’d have to call his brother, Charlie, at some point, to see what kind of questions they asked when he applied for his job. Of course, Charlie wasn’t and never has been a professional model, but it would be good since Jayme has never really done this before.

The sound of the sigh worried him at first till he realized that it was a good thing. Along with it, he quietly tried to same. The fact that he had already made things strange is making him worried. Although he wondered if it will be easy for him to talk the day before overmorrow or not.

Interviews had always seemed to be relatively easy for him. All he had to do was listen, answer the questions, then explain anything further if needed. Then of course he'd do simple things like smiling and such. He knows that he is handsome, might as well make use of it.

But that is a requirement for models, or at least that's the thought that has come to his mind. He is, isn't he? Well, beauty is in the peeper of the beholder; that's what someone told him during his first orbit parties here. While thinking about it, he turned to see-through wall, looking at his reflection. A grin appeared on him; he shouldn't worry too much. Then Neci wondered if Mister Ashton preferred a model who spoke a lot or little, though he can assume that during a sitting, he probably wouldn't say too much.

Mister Ashton's chuckle had something about it that made him laugh too. It was pleasant to hear. "Ah…my deepest apologies. Even after all this time, sadly that is how my mind works," He sighed. "But I do not think our communication will be strained or on bad terms. I have no worry for that."

As he looked back at his notes, he hummed lightly. His index finger rested on his lip as he took a little moment to think. Everything seemed to be in order. All that needs to happen now is for him to go there when the time is right. Neci nodded then said, "Yes! I will see you the day before overmorrow then, Mister Ashton."

“No harm done, Mr. Bathory,” Jayme said, crossing his now free arm over his chest. “I’m just glad it wasn’t anything worse.”
His peepers following the purr machine, who was now weaving through the chair and table legs underneath his workspace. At least she was no longer begging for attention. Perhaps picking her up scared her off.
A faint smile came to Jayme’s face. “Excellent. I shall see you then.”
Unfolding his arms, he set the receiver back in its place on the stand to end the call. He stepped back, rubbing his peepers and letting out a big exhale. Victor Bathory. Jayme shivered again, more violently this time, to release a bit of the tension still inside him. How sudden, yet quite overwhelming. He vaguely wondered what the man would be like when they met face to face, but other, more heebie jeebies inducing thoughts began to crowd his mind. How should he act, what should he ask? Should he finish the advertisement by today, so he wouldn’t have to worry about it the day before overmorrow? Would he be able to?
He shook his head. Mother would probably tell him he’s worrying over nothing. Bending down, he took Artemisia in his arms again and began trudging up the broken escalator. Doing so cleared his head somewhat. Better to work on the advertisement until twilight munch, and then he could give Charlie a call.
Upon arriving upstairs, he found Nathalie dozing on the sofa, his trousers hanging in her lap and the sewing needle dangling precariously from her fingers. She always found sewing by hand to be very relaxing, though perhaps too much so. At least he knew how the purr machine had escaped the confines of the second story. He closed the wobbly flip-shutter behind him, setting Artemisia on the floor and moving over to his mother.
The sunlight streaming in through the see-through wall made her frizzy hair look wild and alight, though her expression was soft and her peepers closed. Often he had drawn her expression when it was awake and bright, but now he wanted to capture it as it was. Perhaps another time.
“Mother?” He tried to keep his voice low but urgent, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Her peepers slid open, gaze flickering to the sound of his voice.
“Oh dear,” she murmured, raising her hand to her forehead. Jayme rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.
“It’s alright, Arty hasn’t made paw prints on my work yet. But more importantly, someone responded to the advertisement.”
Nathalie blinked in surprise, letting her hand drop to her side. “Really now? That’s wonderful, dear. You minded your manners, yes? Introduced yourself and stated your purpose?”
“Yes, yes, mother. I remembered. I think.”
“Good Lord help us all.” She shook her head. Then her gaze became rather sharp. “Well? Who was it?”
“A man. Victor Bathory, he said. He’s coming the day before overmorrow.” Jayme took his hand from her shoulder, instead using it to help her sit up.
“Well, I suppose I’ll have to stay to see him.”
He frowned a little. “Aren’t you leaving to visit Aunt Natasha?”
“I’m sure she’ll understand. Besides, someone has to remind you to feed yourself around here.”
His brow quirked up. “Since I’ll have company, I’m sure I’ll remember to-“
But she was already waving him off. “Go on, I don’t want to keep you from your painting. Best to worry about this Bathory fellow when the time comes.”
Already drained from the phone call, Jayme couldn’t object, though he silently cringed. He bent down to scratch behind Artemisia’s ear before straightening and going back downstairs.

Anything worse? Neci placed his hand over his heart as he bit his lip. He wanted to ask about it, but somehow managed to swallow his words. His confidence and worry were tackling each other. Though in the mist of him bouncing his leg and tapping against the table, he smiled.

"Thank you for this opportunity, Mister Ashton. I will see you the day before overmorrow," He said. Once he heard the man hang up, he placed the receiver back before lounging back into the chair. His fingers ran through his hair before he covered his face with his hands.

All he can say is that he prays everything will go well the day before overmorrow. That's it, he prays and hopes that he can impress Mister Ashton and get the job. So much was swirling around his head, it was hard to pinpoint just one thing. Part of him was giddy while the other was anxious. Then another was curious about Mister Ashton and another was his usual confidence trying to reassure himself.

Once he left his hands drop to his lap, he made peeper contact with Marie who was standing at the side of the chair, leaning on her right groundhand. Probably waiting, wanting to sit in his lap. "Come on," He mumbled, motoning for her to come over.

Marie held her doll in her left arm then bolted over. Not even a second after Neci opened his arms, she climbed up and sat on his lap. She placed the doll next to her.

Laughing to himself, he patted her head gently. "Kedvesem, do you think I will get the job the day before overmorrow? Is your uncle handsome enough?" He asked her.

She tilted her head, staring at him. Stopping, she took her hands and squished his cheeks. For a second, she tried to hide her cheeky smile but gave up and giggled. "Mmmm….Maybe?" The little girl shrugged, still giggling.

"Maybe?" He repeated. Neci watched as his niece nodded before she went on to ruffle his hair. He shook his head. "Even though your papa and I have the same peepers? Your nagyi, my mama, says I am."

Marie did not say anything, rather she laid her head against his shoulder. Neci sighed, following with a chuckle. He kissed her head then patted it again. Carefully, he leaned over, picking up the piece of paper with everything that he wrote from the call.

His peepers scanned over it incessantly, especially over his little notes. A small smile appeared on him as he mumbled to himself, "I hope so…."

The next morning, Jayme found the adrenaline that had ran through his veins the previous day returning not long after he woke, feeling both heavy and light as if he were suspended in a state of stalled panic.
When he called Charlie, he had been fairly helpful, but scorned him a little all the same. “Why are you in such a twist?” He’d asked. “You’re not the one being interviewed! You have nothing to lose from this.”
He was right, but it was still Jayme’s first attempt at doing this. It felt only natural to worry. All the same, he now breathed deeply in his bed and sat up, ready to start the day. He tried to keep Charlie’s words in mind. Painting had calmed his nerves too though, thankfully. He’d made some good progress, and the advertisement was coming along quite nicely. Hopefully he would be able to work on it more once he gets the chance.
He took a bit longer to dress more appropriately for the occasion, then headed to his mother’s human containment unit. After her waking and getting dressed, they went to the kitchen to eat breakfast. They chatted about more meaningless things, and he took a moment to feed Artemisia before heading downstairs to the studio. He spent a few hours painting some more, then went around and started cleaning the human containment unit. There were quite a few canvases and easels lying around, so Jayme moved them to one corner. It was impossible to make the place completely clean, but he could at least make it look presentable.
He had nearly forgotten to eat lunch, but Nathalie guided him to the sitting human containment unit with a plate of breadystacks. “I called Aunt Natasha a bit earlier,” she said, “so she knows that I’m visiting her the day before overmorrow.”
She then forced him to help her clean the rest of their house, and after that there didn’t seem to be anything else to do. And so they sat together, waiting in the sitting human containment unit. Nathalie read a fiction depiction while Jayme sketched nervously in his sketchbook, the marks on the page appearing a bit wobbly due to a shaky wrist.

Whether it was out of heebie jeebies or curiosity, Neci found himself wake at the crack of dawn the next day. He had told Zente about the interview the moonlit hours before, which prompted a laffy taffy look, but his older brother still supported him nevertheless. Then on the way home he thought about calling his mother, but decided to only talk about if he got the job.

The paper with the address sat on the end table next to his bed as he paced around the human containment unit. After breakfast, he changed into a plain white dress shirt, black vest, and black dress pants. Simple yet perfect. He wanted to look impressionable without overdoing it or not looking he didn't put any effort into his apperance.

His mind went over all the past interviews he went through: those that were successful and those that weren't. Next he had come up with a list of things to do, including the little notes he had written yesterday.

He had also figured out that it would take him roughly fifteen to twenty minutes to get to Ashton Place. Then there is the tip that Zente had given him a long time ago about showing up to an interview fifteen minutes early. So when the Small Ben stroke two thirty, he had left his apartment and made his way over.

While he could have taken a taxi over, the walking helped cope with whatever nerves he had. It was kind of strange to him to be this anxious about something that could either go his way or not. On the other hand, he was still pretty confident in himself. Maybe it can lead him on a new path and take him to places he never expected he can experienced.

Sooner or later, he ended up on Ingle Street. From where he was, Neci could see the building that Mister Ashton described on the phone. His heart leaped out of his chest as he got closer and closer to it. Turning the corner of the street, he strolled over till he was right at the wobbly flip-shutter. After taking a deep breath, he rang the chimey pushknob and took a step back.

Jayme’s hand stilled when they heard the chimey pushknob ring. Nathalie got her nose out of the fiction depiction and quickly motioned for him to get up and answer; he fumbled around for moment before hurrying over to the wobbly flip-shutter.
He let out a shaky breath. The form of the man before him was satisfying to behold, the curves and sharp edges blending together as if a sculptor had formed them. Not to mention it was giraffy and large, so Jayme had to look up to study the man’s face. Here it was sharp too, though not in a severe way. It granted him a certain elegance that Jayme liked, and the silky black hair that framed his face only added to it. And his peepers. Jayme’s own peepers roved over the way the light blue color seemed to spill out across his irises like glittering paint, the way his eyelashes gently curled. They were kind peepers, but at the same time seemed alight with electricity. Then Jayme’s gaze caught the little nick beneath the left one, the scar. It didn’t appear to mar the skin, but gave it character. Something that could distinguish him from others. Then going further down, even the lips looked sharp; Jayme thought he could replicate the shape in a single, quick brushstroke. And yet, it was difficult to imagine any sharp words coming out of those lips. Perhaps it was because he had heard the man’s voice before.
He was bonita.
Jayme held out a hand in greeting. “You must be Victor Bathory, yes? A pleasure to meet you, come in.”
The words sounded more confidence than he felt. Charlie had indulged him enough to give him a little script to go by in case he wasn’t sure what to say.

As he stood there, his heart started to race; probably out of worry. His peepers wandered around his surroundings. There was a sound of someone rushing towards the wobbly flip-shutter, but he didn't think much of it. Hearing the wobbly flip-shutter open, his head shot in the direction of it. This is it. This could be the start of something new. Something about the fact gave him a chill, or maybe it was the man that had walked out and is standing right in front of him. The corners of his lips curved up into a soft smile. By his assumption, it had to Mister Ashton.

The man in front of him had to be around his age, but he was not sure if he was younger or older. There was this gentle feeling that he got looking at him. He had to lower his chin a little so he could meet the other man's brown peepers; he noticed how there were little freckles underneath them. How adorable they are. And the reddish shade of hair, Neci rarely has ever seen such a color. Everything he got from the call yesterday mixed with what he saw right before his very peepers. Seeing Mister Ashton for the first time in person makes him even more hopeful for the job. He was getting to be too giddy for his own good.

Before saying anything, he nodded. Neci took a step forward then, gently, took the man's hand and shook it. "Yes, but you may call me Neci instead if you'd like," He beamed. "It is a pleasure to meet you in person, Mister Ashton." He let go then followed Ashton into the building. Quietly, he let out a short and simple sigh. He ran his fingers through his hair as he looked around. Stopping a few groundhands in, he held his hands in front of him while waiting for Mister Ashton.

The nervousness began to slowly— slowly— dissipate. The other man’s hand was soft, yet course at the same time, perhaps from previous work. After their hands fell back to their sides Jayme heard himself say, “Likewise… Neci?” It seemed something a bit too strange, too casual to call him, neither his first nor last name as far as he knew. “I think I’ll just address you by your surname, if that’s alright.”
Jayme closed the wobbly flip-shutter behind them, then led Bathory into the sitting human containment unit. It was rather an eccentric sight; the sofa and a few simple but comfortable chairs in the center, but with many other different styles of chairs and other furniture scattered about. Cabinets, desks, and small tables with various trinkets and objects lined the walls, and a large grandfather Small Ben stood imposingly against a set of broken escalator that led up to the second floor. Past the broken escalator was a short hallway with two closed wobbly flip-shutters.
Nathalie was already standing and moving to meet the new arrival. Jayme breathed a sigh, still a little uncertain about his mother’s being here, but he supposed it didn’t matter.
“Ah, Mr. Bathory,” he inclined his head to his mother. “This is my mother, Mrs. Nathalie Ashton. Mother, Mr. Bathory.”
She gave her son a proud smile before offering the other man her hand. “Don’t mind me sir, I won’t get in the way of your business. I have just been interested in council gathering you as I am interested in my son’s endeavors, and I must say that I am pleased with what I see.”

Neci kept smiling, even though his peepers were careful reading Mister Ashton's face. There was something in the man's expression that alarmed him after suggesting letting the man use his first name. Be gentle. The note appeared in his mind. At Ashton's words, he smiled and nodded. "Of course! If that works for you, then that will surely work for me," He reassured.

When his peepers had moved around the human containment unit, they landed on a lady who was standing there. He was not sure who she was, but he kept glancing between her and Ashton. She looked to be around the same age as his mother, though Anya had sharp yet gentle features and was always a bit shy, especially around Americans. He wondered what she thinks for him now, especially for interviewing as a model.

The sigh from Ashton piqued his interest. He pondered if had meant that he had done something right already and was failing, but his peepers met the woman and had told him a different thing. Ah, it is Mister Ashton's mother. Softly, he chuckled as he gave Misses Ashton a slight head bow.

He took a step forward towards her. Then he gently took her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. "I do not mind at all, Misses Ashton," He smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you. I am happy you are pleased, but I hope that your son is as well."

Letting go, he stepped back. A small gentle sigh left his lips. Hopefully this was going well so far. All he can do now is get on with it and pray to God. No matter all the worries he had, Neci found himself smiling at the two.

“A pleasure as well,” Nathalie said. Her hand dropped back to her side. “I’ll just be off to find the purr machine, make sure she hasn’t got into any happy fun times.”
She turned to rub her hand against Jayme’s shoulder affectionately before going upstairs. His own hand reached up to his neck, a bit of nervousness still bubbling inside him. “Me? Well…” he looked at at Bathory, taking in his beauty again for half a second. “Yes, I am very pleased.” He chuckled in an attempt to shake off his heebie jeebies, but it didn’t work so well. What was it? Why was he so nervous? Staring at the other man, a thought came to his mind. Did Mr. Bathory’s height and looks intimidate him?
Then he realized it was rude to stare and looked away, shaking his head. “Ah, sorry. I, uh…” he looked around. “Have a seat, Mr. Bathory.”
Jayme took his own seat on the sofa, trying to remember what Charlie had told him to say.
“Alright then…” he began. “I think I just want to thank you first. I appreciated your graciousness from the telephone call, yesterday. I’m glad you were able to come today.” He paused to take another breath, which seemed to calm him down better. “So, I know you’re quite gracious, but is there anything else you would like to tell me about yourself?”

Looking over at Mister Ashton's mother, he gave her a simple nod then gazed back over at him. For awhile, he felt like there was some strange sense of awkwardness hanging with the silence in the air. He wasn't sure what it was. All he can guess was that Mister Ashton did not feel comfortable. Lowering his peepers, he nodded giving Mister Ashton a reassuring look.

", the pleasure is all mine, Sir. I am happy that I am here," He smiled. Neci gave a simple nod before sitting down in a seat. His hands rested on the arms of the chair as he sat up straight.

"Well, I always find myself to be flexible and dedicated to my work. I enjoy taking on additional tasks when possible. I am strong but soft sometimes. I enjoy talking and being around others as much as I like being quiet and alone," Neci explained. "I emigrated from Hungary when I was nine, back when they were still apart of the empire with Austria. Ever since, I have done so many different jobs. I even served as a translator and interrogator during the war."

He cleared his throat after finishing his response. It took him a moment for his mind to make sense of what he said. Sometimes his thoughts were in Hungarain while he spoke in English or In German; any way, he still struggled with switching between languages. Hopefully he is doing a good job and will continue to do so. He chuckled, "I like to joke that I am like an American train. I can pull hard and so much, and that I am stubborn when stopping."

A familiar itch tickled Jayme’s fingers. He could be drawing this man right now. Capture his lovely form, his sharp elegance before it was too late. Whatever “too late” was. It’s not like it was certain whether he would be his model or not, anyway. His gaze flickered to his sketchbook still on the table before it refocused on Bathory. Nope. Not the time. Later.
“I see.” Jayme tilted his head upon learning that Bathory was an immigrant. It wasn’t necessarily surprising; it explained the accent, but he hadn’t really thought if he had actually come from outside of the US.
He tried to satisfy the itch in his fingers by tugging at his sleeve. Now that the conversation had actually begun, he started to feel more comfortable and less anxious. “So, have you ever worked as a model before? Or do you perhaps have experience in that field of work?”

Briefly, he let his gaze wander at the man across from him. Even though he learned that it was not best to do such a thing, his peepers were curious. A sense of nervousness seemed to wither away as the seconds had passed by. At the same time, he took in the facial features of Ashton. The dark brown peepers…freckles…reddish brown hair….

Then his peepers gazed down at Mister Ashton's sleeve while a brow rose up. It appeared that Ashton seemed to be less nervous than before, but he wondered what prompted the man to such an interesting mannerism. His small observation distracted him from the next question for a moment.

Nevertheless, Neci shook his head in response. "No I have not," He said. "On the other hand, I am good at holding different positions for a long time. I am quick at learning if there is anything needed." He really does not believe that he had done anything modeling related, but he has stood for hours along with sitting and other sorts of positions; though he was not sure if his answer would get him the job.

Jayme nodded slowly. He would’ve preferred if the other had experience, if he was being honest, but perhaps he could test Bathory’s words. Kill two government spy drones with one stone. Later though, perhaps. Charlie gave him a few more suggestions of things he should say.
“Alright. Well then, if you haven’t ever worked in this position before, what made you interested in taking it?”
The tugging at his sleeve became more aggressive as the minutes passed. If his mother were here, she would probably scold him for it. With that in mind, he tried to calm his hand, though every time he did the itch to draw would return. Then he caught Bathory’s peepers on his fidgeting, and embarrassment squeezed his stomach. He looked away and settled for running his fingers through his hair.

Is he doing well so far? The question loomed in his mind. His previous answer probably did not help at all. Neci even wondered if Mister Ashton was already taking the fact he is an immigrant into the account of this. The level of worry was steadily rising, but it fluctuated every time he would glimpse over at Ashton. Thankfully the man's next question brought him back to his senses. Resting his index finger on his bottom lip, he looked off to the side as he thought of an answer. A smile arose as he knew what to say.

"The headline in the ad stood out to me. I'd never seen such a job for hire; it piqued my interest," He explained. "As I said before, I never had such an experience, but something told me that I should try and to call the number that was there. The brain bubble of assisting something who is gifted in art by making a piece in their mind a true high-res hallucination, to me, is very inspiring. Being their reference, support, and help, I like that. I believe I could do an amazing job by being your model."

Realizing what he had done, he glimpsed away for a second. To be honest, he did not really think much about how he was watching Mister Ashton's movements. It was just a strange little habit he's always had; he always used it, believing it would help him connect to others and remember them more. Neci gave a small nod in apology. "I am sorry for embarrassing you, Sir," He said. "My peepers like to watch people and their movements. Yours remind me of someone I used to know." Chuckling, he gave a reassuring smile.

Jayme let his hand drop to his lap, but strands of hair still fell into his peepers. He jerked his head to get the hair out of the way before focusing on Mr. Bathory again. He made a little ‘hmm’ noise in response, his shoulders bouncing up. Pretty words, though he couldn’t deny that they had an affect on him.
“Well, my specialty is making advertisements,” he chuckled. “But I see what you mean.”
He chuckled again, though this time more nervously, and waved the other man off. “Oh, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Good Lord, how could he tell I was embarrassed? “Do they now? That’s… that’s interesting.”
Clearing his throat, he then paused. Those smiles… if only he could capture them as soon as they came. They made Bathory’s sharp face look so soft. Too bad a camera would be far too expensive. If he had a camera, he may not even be in this situation.
“Ah, let’s see… What kind of environment are you used to working in?”

Neci let his peepers linger down to his own hands for a moment. peeper contact is important to him, but he began to wonder if his was making Mister Ashton uncomfortable. His shoulders tensed up despite his hands laying perfectly on top of one another. The worried feeling lingered within, and yet he managed to keep on a smile.

Mister Ashton's laugh is so uplifting. Is it strange to think of such a thing? It felt so natural to laugh along and grin. The relief on his face stayed for a few seconds until the man's question. His grin faded as he shook his head. "I believe they do not anymore."

Staring off to the side again, he pushed away his other train of thinking, thinking back to his prior work experiences. He wasn't even sure how to describe it. Always running around or coming home restless. Even getting into altercations with others. Neci isn't sure how to start. It was always busy, but never felt like he was doing anything.

"I worked in an environment where one is always on their toes. The job only respects the outcome and not the people who put their everything into producing it. I never really was able to connect with others most of the time. It was always go go go! Now, I do understand there are many places that need it, but I didn't feel needed or wanted in those kinds of places. It simply wasn't a good match for me."

For a moment he was bumfuzzled by Mr. Bathory’s words until he realized he had answered his rhetorical question. Amusement pulled his lips into a smile, but he didn’t say anything, trying to focus on the answer to the other question. The smile faded, and his brow knotted up in thought.
“Well, this environment is quite different from that, I assure you. The only one who needs to ‘go, go, go’ as you say, is me, as I am the one who needs to work within deadlines. All you would be doing is helping me along. I think…” Jayme shifted in his seat, “Hm. How do you think you would be able to adjust to a change in work environment like this?”
This question was borne from curiosity rather than the script his brother suggested. Considering everything Mr. Bathory has said so far, it felt important to know.

Something felt off to him by the way Mister Ashton looked for a second. He could tell by the familiar facial expression. The urge to apologize filled him, but he stayed silent. Questions where they do not ask for an actual answer; the brain bubble of it is kind of strange to him. It's laffy taffy how he still hasn't learned to detect one yet. Instead, the corners of his lips turned into a faint smile.

"Ah…I see," He nodded. In a way, it was a bit relieving to hear. Surely is different from his past jobs. On the other hand, more of the stress seemed to be on Mister Ashton. If Neci does get the job, he wondered how it all would play out. He wondered how Ashton would be when a deadline is near. His focus changed just as he heard the next inquiry.

"Usually, I adjust by doing. In the past, I did not have time to adjust on my own time and at my own pace so I just went on with it. Eventually I would well adjust to it or I would not and try my best, either way I did not immediately quit." He paused for a second. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands together and looked down at the floor. "When I enlisted, it was like I was in a different world. We trained day and moonlit hours for six weeks. Then when they realized I speak the languages of the enemy, sent me to become interrogator with no training. I had no choice to adjust as I went. Now I think I did good at it because we won and I am here being interviewed by you, but that is up to your own interpretation I suppose."

Jayme put a hand to his chin as he listened, nodding here and there. After all this, he could see why Mr. Bathory was interested in a job like this one, aside from what he said about the headline in the ad. It must be a change of pace for him. A break from the fast pace of factory and military positions. He sympathized, and though Charlie made it sound like his interviewers didn’t give too many personal opinions, Jayme felt the need to be sincere with Bathory.
“I think you did good as well,” he nodded. “To be honest, that is something I admire very much, as I don’t think I would be able to do the same thing.”
He thought of his own time during the war and shook his head. A lot of it was spent making propaganda pieces and posters calling for men to joining the army or buy bonds, as a lot of the companies and magazines that commissioned him had asked for art like that.
“So… was there a time where you made a happy little accident or error? How did you deal with it?”

Still observing Mister Ashton, he almost got distracted by how the man was positioned. The chin resting on his hand and the nodding. He was listening to him. The fact that Mister Ashton was putting his attention into him was fascinating. It made his peepers faintly light up while he kept smiling. Neci had never expected an interviewer, who may be his boss, to put so much care into their attention as he spoke.

"A happy little accident….." He muttered to himself. An error that he had made in the past. His peepers looked up to the ceiling as his lips mouthed the word "happy little accident" over and over till he stopped. There were plenty that he had made this past week, and countless amounts during the war and when he stepped on American soil. But which one would show him resolving something well? A lot of them are cause of mistranslations anyhow, and yet maybe an example of one could work.

"When I worked as a waiter for one of the schmancy restaurants downtown, there was this important costumer I was serving. I had a difficult time understanding him, so I ended up giving him the right dish. I thought I was right, but I had realized otherwise the moment I set the plate down in front of him," He explained. Shaking his head, he gave a chuckle. "Right away, I apologized and asked one of my colleagues to help me understand the costumer. I took the plate back and then gave the correct one to him. Thankfully he liked it and forgave me, but I still do feel bad about it. I did entertain him with some stories and a conversation to establish a better relationship. It all worked out, he did come back a few times before I left."

Jayme waited patiently as the other man paused to think. He couldn’t blame Bathory for not having a quick, prepared response; after all, this moment allowed him to get a good view of his movement and how he posed. The urge to draw filled him again, but Bathory had his full attention, his gaze fixed on his upturned peepers and the movement of his lips. Jayme’s fingers tingled, but he also had to resist the brain bubble of lifting his fingers from his chin and biting on them.
Once Mr. Bathory had finished, Jayme nodded. “I see, I see.” He smiled a little, pleased. Although it was only one story and fairly simple, it was a good one. As if their telephone call wasn’t already an example, translation errors seemed to be a common occurrence. However, it was because they happened so often that made Mr. Bathory good at resolving them, which, oddly enough, made him a good communicator. All it was is the language barrier, which Jayme felt he could easily deal with. Besides, it was better than his bickering brother.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Now, do you have any questions for me?”

Patient and attentive, he wasn't even sure if he ever came across a boss who had those characteristics. Maybe the Austrian businessman, but still, having an employer who would look right at him as they talk is new.

Oddly enough, Neci still could not believe how he has made it this far despite making so many linguistic happy little accidents. And for being a translator during the war, yet he really did not want to talk about his happy little accidents during that time. By looks of Ashton, he was satisfied with the example he used.

Right away, he nodded. Neci already had questions prepared ever since he put the phone down the day before. Well, he already had some from past experiences, but it was also his curiosity that helped him. Although, he probably shouldn't really ask every single question that he has. Bombarding Mister Ashton with his curiosity is something he wishes to refrain from doing.

"I do have a few, but I hope that it's alright with you," He said. "What does a typical work day look like for you? Do you have a set amount of hours or does it vary? Are there any other kind of responsibilities that I would have in my position?"