To me, you do. Those words pressed sweetly against his cheek. They left his lips quivering, hesitantly trying to hide the shock and confusion. Neci quickly looked back down at the drawings. His hand wrapped around the edges of the pages.
Ashton's words kept tugging at him, but why? Why? They only have known each other not for long. He dared to not glance up from the drawings as his partner spoke, hoping that his heart would calm down. It didn't.
Lowering the notebook, his lips pursed before he nodded. His eyes were lit up as he stared at Ashton. "Maybe art could be the reflection of the heart. Yes, you use your eyes and interpret it, but it's the heart that sees inner deeper meaning. Your eyes see, and the heart that translates it onto canvas."
Shrugging, he gently placed the notebook down on the far right corner of the desk. The recent image of Ashton whispering, "To me, you do." Neci was sure he saw passion in the man's eyes. It burned his cheeks. It made him rub the back of his neck as an unsure laugh narrowly escaped him.
Neci stood to the left of Ashton, watching as he painted. "Art is about passion, yes? Maybe your drawings of me say something about your passion whatever it may be, that is my guess."
He could not look at him anymore. He just couldn’t. What was it about Bathory that had such an affect on him? Jayme could not understand. He kept his eyes on his work, trying not to let his shame and embarrassment show. He always seemed to say and think the wrong things.
Feeling Bathory’s gaze on him, he considered his words. “I suppose that makes sense. I don’t usually think about it like that, however.”
An awkward smile pulled on his lips as his partner laughed. He almost apologized, but something held his tongue. After painting in the man’s lips, eyes, and eyebrows, he moved on to the hair. Although it was dark, he painted it with a lighter greyish purple color first, so that it would look natural with the light hitting it. He would layer it with darker colors later, once this one was dry.
“Passion…” Jayme did not know how to feel. Mr. Bathory was quite the guesser. “I… suppose… I definitely have it. But it’s not all what art is about, I think.”
Everything is strange now. Ashton is acting strange. He is acting strange. His heart is strange. So is the air surrounding them. It is very hot in the room. His cheeks are deep with red shades. Sometimes he could barely look in the same direction as Ashton. Does his partner notice this as well?
Curiosity was eating him up. Hesitation kept him idle. Neci hated this; he hates the feeling of wanting to know or feel something but is being held back. He wants to push forward, yet, he is afraid to. Why? Why does he have this sudden need, this urge to? What is it that is making him so mad all of the sudden?
Taking off his hat, he gently set it on top of Mister Ashton's head. Then he went on to stroll back over to the bench. "Oh, I most certainly believe that you do," He grinned, taking off his coat. "What else is there to art? I want to hear your words on it. I want to hear your passion, Sir." Setting his coat down on the one end, Neci sat down then laid on his back. "I am curious…"
Jayme worked and painted to avoid the strangeness of the atmosphere at all costs. He did not think he could deal with nor remedy it. He became so absorbed that he did not even notice that Bathory had placed the hat on his head at first. Eventually, he needed to stop so that the paint could dry again. The man’s voice pulled him back into the world of social awkwardness.
The smile and cherry-red cheeks caught him off guard. Was Bathory embarrassed? Confused? Possibly, maybe even flattered? Guilt and self-hatred stirred up in Jayme all the same. So unprofessional, so inappropriate. He needs to do better. “I am sorry,” he found himself saying.
Then he blinked. The hat was forgotten on his own head by now. Jayme glanced at the painting, then back to his partner as he moved to the bench. His eyes reveled in the way the man’s body extended along the length of it. Perhaps subconsciously, he began analyzing the sight before him, noting the shapes he saw in Bathory’s form, his relationship and interaction with the bench. His fingers itched.
“Skill. Technique,” he muttered. “Art cannot thrive on passion alone. Art is… an art, no? It must be practiced, improved upon. It’s why I went to university. Why I draw almost all the time. Not only because it is my passion, but because I have a passion for becoming better, to bring my art to new levels.” With each word, his voice became more and more assured. This was something he loved and knew how to talk about. “I have passion, I have talent, but I only am where I am now because I sought to become better through improving my techniques and thought process.”
Heartbeats filled his ears. They kept getting louder despite his wishes for them to stop. The hand he placed over his chest felt it running inside in circles. His hand is practically as warm as his face along with the air surrounding him. Exhales repeatedly left him once the realization of Ashton's eyes on him returned. But the thing is, he likes it. Not just that, he wants it, he wants more of it even if it is just Ashton needing reference for his work. He wants more.
Neci also realized that his body was stiff. Turning to his side facing Ashton, he forced himself to relax. "You're sorry?" His eyes squinted as he tilted his head a little. "What are you sorry for? That look in your soft brown eyes? My suddenly redden cheeks? Why are you sorry, Ashton?"
All those words rushed out of him before hesitation could keep him from holding them back. It may or may not have led him to become rigid again then laying on his back. His eyes stared up at the ceiling.
He cannot help himself. Even as Ashton spoke about art, Neci found himself being pulled in, being fully interested in what the man had to say. Watching as Ashton lit up, becoming confident in himself and his words, left him awestruck. There was nothing for him to say except for: "Wow"
His own cheeks warmed. As is his habit, he reached up to nervously run his fingers through his hair, but upon doing so found the hat instead. Jayme reached up and pulled it off, unsure what to do, what to say. When he looked at Mr. Bathory again, he became lost in his lovely form, the icy lightning in his eyes.
Somehow he found his voice again. “I… I must have made you… uncomfortable… I must have said something….” He coughed. Soft brown eyes. Was that a compliment? “Your red cheeks, sir… I suppose I am sorry for them. I must be responsible for their color.”
He kept staring at his partner, quite unable to look away. Surprising himself, an uncontrollable grin spread on his face as laughter burst out. “Ah… yes. I suppose this is what it’s like to work with me, Bathory. Perhaps expect more grandiose speeches in the future.”
Briefly, he checked the dryness of the paint. It wasn’t quite dry yet, but Jayme decided to move to another part of the piece. All of those cats were looking quite washed out. He began using the purplish grey he had used for the man’s hair and used it for the black cats in the painting.
"Uncomfortable?" His brows raised at the word. No, that was not the word he would use. Not even remotely close to uncomfortable, it is oddly pleasant. "No….I just don't want my heart to get exhausted from looking at you and listening to you…that's all…." His voice grew quite with each syllable. Timid….that's the word he is looking for. He feels timid all of the sudden. Is it natural to be this timid around such a person?
Although, the timidity was washed over with the sounds of laughter. Neci had no idea what was going on. His eyes lit up while watching Ashton. Still, his face and neck were warm. It took him a moment to realize what was going on before he tried to laugh along too.
He stood up from the bench, strolling back over to Ashton. Noticing the man's slightly messy hair, he grinned. As he stood to the side, he moved the hat over before carefully doing his best to make his partner's hair somewhat neat. "Grandiose…." The word felt strange on his tongue. "I do not mind your…grandiose speeches, just as long as you end up smiling and laughing like that. It makes my red cheeks all worth the while."
“Your heart…” Jayme repeated. He was starting to get confused too. What did he mean? And he’d never heard Mr. Bathory get quiet like this, either. “Well, I am at least glad that it’s nothing else.”
As the man got up from the bench, he put a hand over his mouth. “Ah, I just thought your simple response was amusing,” he muttered. Bathory’s red face paired with the flash of a grin caused a pang in Jayme’s chest. There was also no warning when he reached for his hair, but the gesture reminded of the same thing his mother would sometimes do, and so he did not flinch or give it a second thought.
Then he realized something. Not only did he revel in his partner’s looks, he found his voice captivating as well. The way his tongue felt around the foreign word like it was some strange object, the smoothness and timbre of his voice as he continued to speak.
Momentarily, he forgot about painting. “W— well,” he stuttered. “I certainly… I certainly hope so.” His own cheeks grew warmer.
He shook his head. There's more. Oh great God and all the saints, there is so much more. He does not even know where to start or how to say it in a way that is comprehensible. Is there such a way in doing so?
Neci said nothing for a while, except for the slight hum that resonated within his throat. He mindlessly ran his fingers through Ashton's hair, enjoying its texture and softness. Though when he came to realize it, he stopped. He stepped to the side in order to get a good look at Ashton. His curiosity is in full bloom. What if his partner is going through the same thing? What if?
And there's the stuttering again. He recalled the previous times these have happened before, but Ashton had a blushed face too. His partner even forgot about the painting. There's just something about him right now, but he isn't sure if it is because Ashton looks quite swell with redden cheeks.
"But what about you and your blushing?" He whispered. "I do not make such grandiose speeches as you do, but here you are, red as a rose. What is that I am doing, Ashton? Is it all worth the while?"
He did not think Mr. Bathory would keep going. As soon as Jayme realized that his fingers had been in his hair for longer than a second or two, he actually became aware of what he was doing. Why? That is what he wonders. He became uncomfortable, not exactly because of the gesture itself, but of how it had happened. But then, just as quickly, his discomfort eased. They were both being rather unprofessional and inappropriate, seeming to say and do things they shouldn’t. But how did it get to this point? Nevertheless, he still felt heat in his cheeks.
His partner’s whispering caused Jayme’s voice to lower as well. “I…” He did not know how to feel about him noticing his red face. He did not know how to feel in general. “It’s… the little things, I suppose. You don’t make speeches, but your voice, it… I— I don’t know. Your… your eyes too, I think. The curvature of your jaw and your cheekbone. It’s nice to look at, and I like to draw it too. I—“ He stopped, frowned at himself. What was he saying? Shame creeped up his neck, making the heat in his cheeks rise even more. “Nevermind.”
He turned to the painting. He started mixing colors. “I’m sorry,” he murmured again.
Worry scaled up onto him. What is he doing? Why is he doing this? Neci does not know. In this case, he knows anything except for the fact an urge is eating at him. It sighs everytime he looks at Ashton with those wide blue eyes of his or when his ears are full with his partner's voice. He keeps on going with full curiosity and fascination despite the fear, despite the possible shame. There is something about Ashton that makes him believe it is okay to act in this strange way. But is it really true?
Lowering his chin, his lips thinned into a smile. A shivering breath slithered past them. Whatever he expected his partner to say, it was not this. Not anywhere near this. Direct explicit detail of himself; he never could have expected this. Rubbing the back of his neck, he noticed his feet shifting his weight.
Nevermind? All movements within him stopped. He was sure that his heart did too; he could swear there was no heartbeats for a moment. "No no, Ashton. Please do not have the need to be sorry, it is alright," He assured. Reaching his hand out, he forced it to stop for a second before slowly setting it on Ashton's left shoulder. Bottom of hand, palm, then fingers.
He looked up at the painting, watching as his partner began to mix with colors. "I don't know if I am right, but I feel the air surrounding us is funny, and that shouldn't be something to be afraid of," He stated. "You said it yourself that we are partners in this, and even if it troubles you, tell me. Talk to me about it please, Ashton, please. All the tension you hold in your shoulders will leave you with aches and sores. Believe me."
Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the man’s movements. How his chin lowered, how his posture shifted. It made Jayme’s words wobble, only increased his incentive to look away.
The touch to his shoulder made him freeze. He became very aware of his heart pounding inside of him. Ironically, Bathory’s words made him want to apologize even more.
Jayme set down his paintbrush and sighed. Bathory was right, he had even experienced it for himself, but now it was difficult to make himself speak. How could he speak his thoughts now? It was like he had done something wrong and had not known, and now Bathory was giving him permission to do that thing he now knew was wrong.
Silence hung in the air for a few moments. His gaze flickered from the painting to his partner’s face. His beautiful, beautiful face.
“I… I had wanted this to be a professional environment, but I feel that what we are doing… it— it’s inappropriate,” he said slowly. “But we’re… we’re both participating and…” he sighed again. “I don’t like what I am feeling right now. There’s heat in my cheeks, and pounding in my chest… it’s not anything you’re doing, it’s just… you, as a person. And I don’t know why.”
He almost wished he could fade from existence, but then he would not be able to feel Bathory’s hand on his shoulder anymore.
He is the reason why Ashton's shoulders tense up. He is the reason. Neci swiftly removed his hand, forcing it to stay at his side. His skin was warm, but this time with a different kind of shame. What kind of shame? He does not know. Just the same with everything else. That is what makes him so frustrated. He does not know at all.
Ashton's words kept replaying in his mind. I don’t like what I am feeling right now…It’s just… you…. Him? What about him? Is he loud? Are his casual gestures too much? What? What? What is it about him? Perhaps he is making Mister Ashton uncomfortable. Maybe that is it.
No….No it couldn't be. If it were so, then he would be fired and kicked out already. Americans are quick and very serious about time being money. Yes, that part is very true. He wishes he knew more though.
Scratching the back of his neck, his eyes wandered over to the painting then the brush. Neci did glance over at Ashton, but only for a second until he went back to staring at the floor. "I am sorry…" He shook his head while wandering over towards the window. "I am sorry…"
Words had utterly failed him. Both now, and even when he was speaking. Everything inside of him tightened severely, and he almost wanted to weep. This was what he had been afraid of. Not even of what would happen if they continued on with their ways, no, it was the straining of communication, the misunderstandings, that strange kind of fading that happens when two people fall out of sorts with each other. He had experienced it too many times now, he could not bear to go through it again.
Jayme’s breath became shaky. His gaze also slid numbly to the floor. “No, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “This is all my fault. I’m so…” he trailed off. Words have failed him again.
Just then, he felt something brush against his leg, along with a small mew. Apparently the cat had decided to join them again.
“Arty…”. He murmured, reaching down to pet her. Her presence calmed him, if only slightly. Then, he looked to Bathory. He wanted to explain himself, he could not leave the conversation like this. It would just get worse and worse until they are no longer speaking to each other.
“I…” he swallowed. “I shouldn’t be feeling this. But I cannot… I cannot stop looking at you…” his voiced lowered and lowered. “You’re so… so beautiful… I’m so sorry, Bathory. This is my fault.”
Neci needed to be silent, even if it were just for a few minutes. He needed to collect his thoughts, figure out what was going on with himself, and then find a way to make Ashton feel better. No matter how much he tried to push it away, his concerns, his thoughts, they all went back to him. Ashton. His long breaths slowed, but his heart is beating at the same pace as before.
The wall of frustration and shame cracked. The instant he heard Ashton, it all went down. Those soft shaky murmurs caused a chill to run down his spine. Guilt overtook him. He shouldn't have said anything, he shouldn't have whispered or touched Ashton or anything. He should have stopped himself so he wouldn't have hurt his partner.
In the corner of his eye, he watched him as the cat returned. He barely caught a glimpse of the man, and yet his whole body went into some state of shock, of wonder. Why? Why? Why? Everything in him had become stiff; it even impacted the way he walked as he did so back to Ashton once again.
But he stopped himself. "Beautiful?" Sure, he has heard it from Ashton before, yet this time was different. Neci ran his hand through his hair and sighed. Going up to his partner, he gently turned his seat so they could face each other.
"Yes…It is your fault. It is your fault." He stood there, staring over until he decided to walk over. His feet dragged. "You want to know why? It's your fault because there is something about your gaze that makes me freeze. It makes me greedy, I cannot get enough of it, I want it. I don't know why, but the way you look at me….I don't need anyone else's gaze but yours. And I cannot help staring back, I want to even if it is wrong."
Quickly, he took up Artemisia in his arms. She would have to serve as emotional support. Fear and shame and wonder seemed to course through his veins all at once, making his blood heat up. Jayme hugged her against him, the mottled fur brushing against his Adam’s apple. It bobbed as he swallowed. He could feel her purrs as much as he could hear them.
“Beautiful…” he echoed, staring up at the man before him. Then his eyes widened; he thought he was being shamed. His heart started to beat faster than it already was. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the cat’s ears twitching in the direction of the man’s voice. The situation began to overwhelm him, so he busied himself with stroking the cat’s fur and looked somewhere over his partner’s shoulder.
“Ah… Mr. Bathory…” he said, his voice as low as it had ever been. “I think—“ he blinked. “I think you just made a grandiose speech.”
A nervous smile flitted over his face, but quickly disappeared. “U-um. Sir, I—“ his gaze cautiously made its way back over to Bathory’s striking eyes, then quickly moved away again. “It’s your— your first day and—“ Words were useless. Words always failed. “I just… I mean…”
Finally, he fell silent. His gaze fell to the floor again. Artemisia mewed. At the sound, he sighed, somehow taking it as a prompt to speak again.
“Well then…” he looked up. “You have it. I will look at you in that way, and I… don’t think I’ll know when to stop.”
Whatever this feeling, this madness is, he is scared and yet, he welcomes it. He wondered if he has ever felt something like this before for he cannot ever recall such a feeling. If God or his mind is letting this happen, then it must be for some reason.
Neci stared at Ashton. His eyes…they could not look away from him this time. No matter how hard he tried, they refused and stayed put. They watched as his partner's pupils widened, lighting up startlingly. His hand twitched, wanting to grab Ashton's or run through Ashton's hair. Words built up on his tongue. His knees slightly bent, ready to collapse on top of the floor as he begged for forgiveness.
And yet, he stayed still. Practically a statue. "A grandiose speech," He muttered. "Did I? Really?" The heat of frustration faded out. All he felt left was whatever heat and sparks arose from looking at and being in Ashton's presence. He tried to make sense of all the words, yet he just blinked while breathing deeply.
"Don't stop, please….Never…." Neci paused. This always happens whenever he is caught in such a daze-like state. His mind is full of things to say, but he has to translate them so that it's understandable, but he doesn't even know how to. "I want it….I want it as much as I want you….to be alright and smiling and laughing the way you do."
Again his hand tried to reach out, but he stopped himself. Disappointed, he looked away towards the wall as he spoke again. "I shouldn't have started out by shaming you, that was not my intention. I want to do the opposite of that. Honestly. Both my head and heart are swrilling around, and it's peculiar to me….I worry I will speak freely in Hungarian or that my words come out wrong….They did…It's my fault."
He made another nervous laugh. “I mean, seems like it. A grandiose speech if I’ve ever heard one.”
Being this close to Bathory overwhelmed him, but now that he looked up he could not look away again. The man seemed to hold him captive. He did not even notice Artemisia jumping down from his lap and moving under the desk again.
His heart pounded. Words always failed. He didn’t know what to say. If only he could paint something right now, something that would visualize the things going through him.
Jayme caught the hand twitching towards him. He thought to take it, but it seemed like he was frozen to his seat. He tried to remember to breathe. “I… no, I understand now. W— we must be… be feeling the same things… “ he swallowed. “Please, sir, it’s not even lunch yet. We should… we should probably get back to work.”
"Well…if I may speak the truth here, I sort of learned what grandiose means about five minutes ago…I learned it from you…"
The thought of asking Ashton to teach him unfamiliar words came about; he just shook it off giving the current state of mind. Neci softly gasped at the man's words. Are they feeling the same things? "Really?" He whispered underneath his breath. He wasn't even sure if the tone of his question was out of uncertainty or something else.
"It is not lunch yet?" He looked down at his watch. "Feels like it should be late afternoon at this point." Shaping an o with his lips, he glimpsed back at Ashton. Stuffing his hands inside his pockets, he sighed and made his way back over to the bench. Laying back down on it, he stared up at the ceiling. Move on from it already. Can't you see he is distressed because of you? Neci bit his bottom lip.
“Ah, I see.” Another laugh. What was wrong with him? He certainly was not amused, anxious more like. “Well, um. If I knew the Hungarian equivalent I would… I would tell you. But…”
Jayme brought his hand up to his cheek, rubbing over his left eye then reaching up into his hair. “I… I don’t know…” he whispered, just as faintly. “How can I really say for sure? The… the physical things, those feel the same. I don’t know.”
He remembered to breathe. The moment Bathory looked at his watch, Jayme felt released from his captivating gaze. Letting out an exhale, he glanced worriedly at the painting and turned his seat to it. “Yes… it does. Lunch is soon, though. Maybe we should… mmm.” He trailed off, his mind immediately focusing on the painting as if it were an escape from this strange conversation. He went back to mixing and diluting colors, but remembered to check with how the colors looked on his model. Even in this lighting, there was still a lot of contrast between the clothes, as well as the skin and hair. He made some of the colors to be a bit darker, then laid them overtop the first layers of the hair, coat, and slacks. He tried to leave room for where the light was hitting them, however, so that they wouldn’t be completely blocked in and there would be a more three dimensional look.
The tensed laugh did not help his notions. It was adding fuel to one of the many fires in his heart and mind. His brows furrowed. Neci was not sure whether he is frustrated enough to give Ashton a piece of his mind by telling him that he's beautiful too, hell very cute actually, and then hug him or not. He shook his head in response to himself then muttered, "No…" Men don't do those things especially when they're mentally torn and timid with something.
"Sure you do, Mister Ashton….Or at least, your body does. That's what a doctor told me, the body knows beforehand then soon the mind will know too. Maybe since we both feel the same…." He stopped. Actually, he had no idea where his words were going. "Ah sorry, my mind's kind of fuzzy right now."
His lips thinned as they curled back. What? Maybe we should what? The suspense is worse then any nickelodeon he's gone too. He has to know! Every word and glance from Ashton is like a nickelodeon given his emotions, but it's all real. It all makes him very warm and have butterflies in his stomach. Such a weird English expression.
Playing with the buttons on his shirt, he sighed. "What is it Sir?" He finally asked. "What is that we should do?" The bench creaked as he shifted his head to look over at his partner. "As long as you don't use words like grandiose, I'll understand. And even if it's crazy, I'll understand too, Jayme."
His hair must be an absolute mess, after both he and Bathory ran their hands through it. Realizing this, he tried to smooth it down, though it was impossible for him to say how successful he was. Jayme could not help but raise an eyebrow at his partner, but he listened and tried to finish, “Since we both feel the same, our minds will eventually also come to the same conclusion?” With a sigh, he nodded. “It’s alright. Mine too.”
As the second layer he put down dried, he went back to the cats. Not every cat looked the same, after all, and he would have to paint in their patterns and spots and stripes galore. He started mixing more colors, but they always seemed too bright for the scene. The tip of his tongue poked out in between his lips in mild frustration.
He looked up at Bathory. For a moment a soft smile and chuckle spread over him; it was genuine this time, the way his partner said not to use words like grandiose (grandiose words, if you will) was funny to him. But then it stopped abruptly at the sound of his first name, and he had to take a moment to recover. It sent a chill down his spine for some reason, and did nothing to cool the heat in his cheeks.
“I…” Jayme cleared his throat. “I had planned to discuss salaries and such over lunch… but, ah, perhaps we should, if you’re comfortable that is, discuss these… feelings… again. Just so… I don't know… we should understand each other, right?” His voice again quieted the longer he spoke.
He shrugged. "If I would have known you then, I would have asked him. Maybe that is something for us to find out together." However one would go about that, Neci wondered. Really he should have asked that doctor long ago, but he probably cannot now. He cannot even go about what he is sensing within his heart. It's dangerous, it's full of fire. A deep long sigh drew out.
Like a bomb, the awareness in him ticked. Tick…Tick…Tick… His mouth turned into an o shape. A whole dictionary worth of swears in his native tongue developed in his mind. Did he just call Mister Ashton by his first name? Oh no oh no oh no. With his head shot up, it turned to get a quick glimpse over at his partner. Surely the use of "Jayme" is the cause. Unless he is going mad, Mister Ashton…Jayme….Ashton….Jayme…Ashton…Ja- No. Well, anyways, the man (there we go) looked stunned for a moment. Although his partner was even more captivating in that moment of bewilderment, he lowered his head and muttered an apology.
"Well…." His mouth was moving faster than his mind. Neci bit on his tongue while getting the opportunity to sit up. Thanks to lying down, it made it all messy. "We should. Better discuss them than rather dance around it, I suppose. It is very important, I want to understand you. I also want you to try the lángos too, you'll like it."
For what simultaneously seemed like a fraction of a second and a million years, Jayme stared at Bathory with a sort of confusion combined with amazement. From the look on the other man’s face, it seemed that what he said had not been sincerely intended, a slip of the tongue, but it did not do much to calm his shock. If anything, it reinforced it. In a way, it was kind of funny. Jayme stuttered incoherently at the apology, so that he eventually stopped and had to start over. He set down his paintbrush and put his head in his hands for a moment. Then with a sigh, he raised his head and held out a hand towards him.
“Hold on, hold on,” he said, and wetted his lips. “Sir, it’s alright. There’s no need. I know you were not trying to be rude or anything… It happens, I’m sure.”
Letting out a sigh, he lowered his hand. Suddenly he felt an echo of that self-loathing. Why did he react so strongly? It was so small, there was no need to look at his partner so dumbly and then stutter like a madman. What was he doing?
Out of shame, he looked away from Bathory. “I want to understand you as well,” he said, his voice soft now. Then he smiled, but just faintly. “I think so too.”
He looked to the painting, then bent down to look underneath the desk. Artemisia was still there, curled up and busy grooming the space between her back legs. Jayme rolled his eyes. “See, Arty here is being more impolite than you, sir.”
He tried to study the color of her fur. When satisfied, he straightened and focused back on the painting. Perhaps muddying the colors a bit would not be so bad in this case. He tried mixing in more brownish colors to desaturate them.
Jayme…The name just slipped so easily off of his tongue. He is cursed with the fact that his tongue tends to follow his heart more rather than his mind, and he does not know how to control it. It was an accident, he swears to God that it was an accident. Yes there is no to blame except himself and he actually likes the name Jayme and how it is sweet like Mister Ashton, but it is his own fault nonetheless. Mistakes happen frequently though, is that not true? And yet, it was a mistake, but he feels terrible over the fact that he does not regret it majorly. He wishes they could go on a first name basis. Oh what he could do just to hear Mister Ashton say, "Neci"; it would be an absolute dream.
The thought of it left him with a goofy grin on his face. One corner of his mouth shamlessly hung higher than the other. His weight pressed down on his right hand. All of this occurred until his eyes widened for a second then he was back to slightly slouching against the bench like normal. The blushing on his cheeks are not as prominent as they were before, or at least, he hoped so.
"Thank you, I was awfully worried for a second. Oh good" Neci breathed. "I wasn't planning on bringing it, but my sister made it then forced me to. She said that even painters and models have to eat, might as well eat Hungarian food while they're at it. I don't know."
He shook his head. "Hm?" Crossing his arms, he tilted his head. His eyes glanced across underneath the desk at the cat. Jokingly, he frowned while moving his head in disapproval. "Your kitty is quite bold to say the least," He chuckled. "This is her home though. I am merely the guest in her case."
