victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

Victor led Rico over to the Muse's studio, bypassing the welcome mat and walking right in.

The Muse didn't take his eyes off of the painting that he was currently working on, containers full of paint scattered all around him. It looked like he was painting a person walking out of the water, but it was too early to be sure. His third arm painted wildly while his other two remained still at his sides. It was rather unnerving, even to Victor, who had watched him paint quite often.

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And the Muse was happy for that. He could use a day without awkward questions. He didn't mind people staring at the arm though. He waved it around. "I love this thing. So helpful."

The motion catches his eye and he looks back, interested. "Doesn't it get in the way? I'd think that going clothes shopping would be a nightmare."

"I hafta wear a big jacket if'n I leave th' Nexus 'cause of Funny Looks. I need it 'cause I can't drop th' bottle an' the cig. They grow back. Need t' feed myself an' paint, y' know?"

((I've gotta jet at 9:30.))

"Food's important," Rico says absently.

((All right. Nice RPing with you.))

"Yeah. You sure you doan needta eat? I could take you out s'mewhere nice."

((Yep. It was lotsa fun.))

He looks thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure. At least, I haven't tried for a while." His stomach growls and he grins sheepishly. "But I still get hungry, looks like. Where'd you have in mind?"

He shrugged. "Where d' you wanna go?"

"I don't really care. Anywhere with food. Taco Bell?"

He put a jacket on to cover up his prosthetic. "Alrighty. Taco Bell it is. Don't tell Miss Victor tha' I'm leavin' the AVF, though. She's sorta protective."

"I'm not a snitch," he says, getting up and stretching again. "What's the AVF?"

"Anti-Violence Field. Someone took a liking t' the idea of me dyin' a while back. Foun' out I'm still immortal th' hard way."

"Fun," he remarks drily. "How are we getting to Taco Bell? We gonna walk?"

He nodded, making a face. "I don't know any other way." He gestured to a door nearby. "This is th' YMCA. I get in t' use their shower after-hours so no one c'n walk in. I think there's a Taco Bell aroun' tha' area."

Rico heads to the door. "You know I don't have any money, right?"

"I don't have much American money. But I have enough for both of us." He opened the door for him. "After you." It opened up directly to the showers.

Rico looks around as he walks through the shower room. He can practically feel the athlete's foot gnawing at his shoes.

He grinned sheepishly. "What can I say. 'S home."

"Its cool," he says, aware he might have been a little rude. "Home is home."

He led Rico through the showers and over past the front desk. A tall man with a yellow, faded YMCA t-shirt cleared his throat, gesturing to his membership card.

The Muse winked. "Left it in my other pants." They had an understanding.

Rico keeps close to the muse, hoping not to draw too much attention from Mr. YMCA over there.

"I take it you're familiar with these guys, then?" he asks softly.

"I'm on call to paint murals for 'em, an' they don't question my coming and going. It's a helluvan arrangement," he explained quietly.

"Sounds like it." He hangs back to let the Muse lead the way.

He laughed and headed out of the door, grinning at the woman there. "Look lovely today, Miss Dolorous."

He held the door for Rico.

"Why thank you, Morrie," Rico says, grinning as he walks through the door. "How polite."

"You're quite welcome. I like the name Morrie. Thank you." He looked around, and up at the gray sky. "I try."