Cyrin made a disgusted face, “Okay, I take it back, not anything with cow. Steak, burgers, not a hot dg fan, pork ribs. . . Meat. I like meat.” He laughs softly, grinning at Arthur.
He leans back in the seat, rubbing his thumb along the back of Arthur’s hand, quiet for a moment. Contemplating.
Arthur started to get out of the car once they got there, but Cyrin ran his thumb across the back of his hand, and was quiet for a moment, so Arthur froze. He stayed where he was, looking at Cyrin.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked quietly, squeezing Cyrin's hand lightly in response.
Cyri n blinked and looked at Arthur, smiling, "Oh, I was debating something for the apartment." He hums.
"With the living room high enough, I can have my own studio and still have space for other things. I'm trying to decide what I want in it. It may just be a studio, but for my dancing and drawing."
He lets go or Arthur's hand after a moment and gets out of the car, "Or, I can get a TV and a couch and put it in there. There's a lot of things I can do with the space."
Arthur nodded at him, looking just slightly disappointed as Cyrin let go. "There's quite a lot of space, and you've got that second bedroom. It's big enough to act as a smaller studio for your drawing, or as literally anything else you like. The space is yours." He smiled as they headed inside.
"And now, if you decide to add some kind of a loft with the high ceilings in the living room, you're the guy who sets that up. Kinda means I won't have any idea what your apartment looks like." He grinned at Cyrin.
"And if you're looking for a tv and a couch… feel free to use mine. I could just… I mean, you're the building manager… I could just give you a key. Come on in whenever you like."
Cyrin nods, smiling slightly at Arthur. He hesitates, and then takes his hand agian, "Well, okay. . . Um-" He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, "My own TV would still be useful. So, I'll probably still get one. And a nice comfy couch would be nice after I've been practicing for a while, so I mean, these are still things I need to think about."
Arthur's smile widened a bit as Cyrin took his hand again. "I'm not trying to dissuade you from all that, just offering. Most of the bigger stores where you could get all that stuff are closed by now, but… tomorrow maybe?"
In the door, up the elevator, stop at Cyrin's floor. Arthur didn't want him to let go though, but didn't move to get off or anything.
Cyrin looks at him, "Yeah. . . Tomorrow." He doesn't move either, watching Arthur with a slightly warm and happy expression. With trust.
Arthur read the expression in Cyrin's eyes, hoping it was what it looked like, and slowly raised the hand he was still holding into their line of view. His eyes turned gentle, their usual intense gaze ratcheted down a bit, as he looked at their clasped hands.
"Can I, uh… can I assume this means I might see you tomorrow?" He was trying to ask what this meant for them. He was fine with it, he just didn't know exactly what Cyrin was thinking about the whole situation.
Cyrin smiled, nodding, “Of course.” He sighs softly, leaning into Arthur slightly, “Yeah. . . Just pop by my place around. . . 12?” He smiles at him, relaxing. He hums softly, “Or maybe a little earlier and I can make you lunch?”
Arthur nodded quickly, clearly happy about the invite. "Absolutely! I'll text you before, just to make sure you're still home and it's all good still and everything." He sighed, just a little, as Cyrin leaned into him.
"….Well… I guess I gotta let you go for the night then, huh?" he clearly didn't want to.
Cyrin doesn’t say s anything, not moving either. He supposed he should go, but he didn’t want to either. He looked at Arthur, quiet. “I. . . I guess. . .” He mumbles.
Arthur bit his lip for a moment. "Though… I mean… you live just a floor down, so…. wanna come over for a bit?" He reached for the elevator button, ready to send them up to his floor if Cyrin agreed.
His expression as he looked up at Cyrin was… oddly vulnerable.
Cyrin looks at him and then smiles, “Sure.” He leans onto Arthur a little more, relaxing. “I mean. . .” Cyrin laughs softly and closes his eyes for a moment, “Yeah, I can.” He bites his lip, though he looked a little happier at the invitation to come over. Though he felt a little sub-conscious about the fact the he jumped the gun and practically answered before the words had finished leaving Arthur’s mouth. He shifted slightly.
Arthur wasn't bothered by how quickly Cyrin responded, because he was jabbing the button as soon as Cyrin didn't say no. He smiled and squeezed Cyrin's hand, before looping an arm around the dancer's waist. "Well, then we don't have to say bye for a bit."
The elevator dinged, and Arthur stepped out, careful not to pull on Cyrin too much. He opened his door, and they stepped into his apartment.
Cyrin moves with Arthur, leaning on him slightly, not putting his full weight on the other man, but a light and gentle pressure. He nods, “Yeah. . . We don’t.” He smiles and closes his eyes, humming softly to himself.
Arthur stood there for a moment, enjoying the little bit of pressure from Cyrin.
"So… you said you draw?" He couldn't remember if they'd talked about that before tonight. "What do you like to draw?"
Cyrin hums softly, “I can draw anything really, if I put my mind to it. I do realism.” He looks at Arthur, smiling slightly. Of course, Cyrin knew he was good at art, the scholarship he’d gotten to go to the Art school told him so. But he was not one to brag about his talents. He never liked bragging or braggers.
Arthur brightened. "Realism, huh? So, like portraits and stuff?" He wasn't really too sure about art terms and all that stuff, but if Cyrin was interested, he needed to be too.
Cyrin looks at Arthur, nodding, “Yup.” He pulls away slightly, still staying in contact with Arthur and he makes a move to head to the couch. He hums, “Portraits. . . Or, anything really, like a cat, house, cars. Anything.”
Arthur followed him, and plopped down on the comfy cushions, pulling Cyrin into him a bit. "We talking painting or like, colored pencils, or crayons, or what?"
“All of the above.” He says, snuggling close to Arthur, “I’m partial to markers and color pencils.” He smiles slightly, leaning on Arthur. “Though I can paint when the occasions requires it. I can also use crayons, but I avoid it as much as possible.”
Arthur nodded, thinking, before pulling his face back a bit.
"So what do you focus on when you draw? Like if you were to draw my face, what would you focus on to get it right?" It was partially real curiosity, but also just an excuse for Cyrin to take a long look at his face.
Cyrin looks at him, examine the features of his face, “Your eyes. Not the sape of anything, that’s easy, but. . . The life behind them. To make the picture seem real. That’s always the hardest part.”
Arthur blinked his big brown eyes up at Cyrin, a bit flattered. "Oh… Sounds like it would be…" In examining his face, Cyrin had moved in a little closer, and Arthur didn't bother to lean away now.
"Anybody ever tell you you've got pretty eyes?" he said quietly.
Cyrin blushed slightly, blinking, “I. . .” His gaze flicks away, slightly embarrassed, “No. . . Not really. Besides my mother, but that doesn’t count.” He laughed softly, shifting slightly, looking back at Arthur’s face.