stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

It was just the guard, king and were-woman that made their way into the room Harley dubbed as the 'back room'. Okay, maybe it wasn't her most inventive name. It was a question where to sit that prompted Harley to roll her prized rolly chair toward the king. Only Lucas might have treated it light a projectile as he intercepted it with clear efficiency like a threat with his big burly frame. A singular dark brow rose, as she observed the scene as Lucas then righted that chair and presented it to his King to sit upon. She couldn't decide which was more amusing. The scene itself, or a king sitting in her work chair. Harley considered it briefly as Lucas then receded to the corner where he sat wordlessly in the corner, looking much too large and imposing for the small seat he sat upon, remaining the ever-vigilant guard.

Dorian, fancy coat and all sat at her desk that possessed some of the tools of her trade. She studied him silently as he slipped his own sketchbook upon the cleared space as if in silent preparation to do as he promised, to draw that aura that only he could see. It was at that exact moment the door dinged and the errand guard returned with a plethora of goodies. Dorian suddenly making that space his own with various creature comforts, she almost expected the winded guard that appeared to pull out silverware and a table cloth. Although it was close. He did pull out a tea cup. From where, Harley would never know. Nor would she figure out just where he went.

There was a hint of fascination when she observed a glimpse into a world filled with endless protocol and rules that she could never begin to fathom. So entirely complicated an existence. Overly so, the raven-haired woman thought as she considered her own choice of beverage before she mentioned her own preferences. She was more of a coffee drinker herself. Dorian then swiftly agreed that he actually preferred it too, that he chose tea because of his husband's more British preferences seemed to rub off on him. Before she could reply, Dorian merely made a single gesture and the man jumped into action. The fae once more instilled that it was his job to retrieve whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. With a mere glimpse to the spread of tasty morsels the guard had left behind, clearly intended to be presentable. "Multi-talented bunch aren't they." Harley's usual sarcasm still rang clear as she placed a hand on her hip.

The fae king seemed satisfied, he looked like he was right at home before he explained that he liked to do some of his errands himself from time to time. Like it was a rarity that he did. He regaled a small tale how he once bought himself a sandwich and how exciting it was. If she didn't witness it, would never believe someone got their kicks from ordering a sandwich of all things. Hell, that level of wistfulness that he would love to go to a store again some day, could not be adequately faked. She almost felt bad for the guy. He was missing out on a lot of life's simple pleasures.

"That was either some sandwich or you really need to get out more." It was difficult to take him seriously and yet he looked absolutely serious. Damn. Well if that were truly the case, she could take him places that would blow his mind if he thought the deli-place was... that good. Harley's lips quirked into a slight wry grin at the thought, her gemstone eyes landing upon his considering how he came off so very deprived in the most simple of experiences. If it wasn't clear before it was clear now that she had never encountered any one like him. Of this, she was certain. He was a whole other animal... innocent and untarnished by the world (or so it seemed). She astutely studied him for a moment longer as if unsure if he was actually for real or not, almost as though she expected for the pretense to fall at any moment... and not once did it slip.

Her mind shifted topics all at once at the offer to indulge in some of those pastries. The man certainly didn't have to offer her twice, he was met with no hesitation, although normally she was entirely skeptical of the offer of... free anything. Her hand on her hip fell gently to her side and she slipped on over to the display of various treats. She picked up the first one her eyes lay eyes upon and slipped one of those bite-sized treats into her mouth as it melted upon her tongue, unmistakeable was the sound of appreciation from her lips. Okay, these things could be addicting.

Dorian pleasantly and politely remained in that chair sipping upon his steaming tea. The pair were like polar opposites and yet one thing they shared in common. Art. With everything else, she might as well have been a demon in comparison to this man's angelic, refined nature. Before she could say anything else, the door dinged again and...... the guard was back. Damn he was fast. Like the Flash fast. He was still attempting to catch his breath but still moved with great care not to spill what was within that cup. A drink for her! Well, that was nice of him. She hardly expected a drink too out of this whole deal. This was way better than door dash.... Way faster too.

The spread was impressive. He didn't even know how she took her coffee so he brought her...... everything from cream to different sweeteners, sugars. Holy shit. "Woah. You might not be able to order a sandwich all that often but.... This is the life." She attempted the thank the guard and Dorian with one of the four-ish words she knew in Italian. The coffee was still steaming as she put just enough cream to break up the sea of black. She liked her sweets but why drink bold coffee if you couldn't taste it? Might as well drink tea at that point.

Before testing her delicious coffee with clear satisfaction, Harley then swiftly procured and offered her own sketch book for Dorian's perusal. It was only fair, she decided. He did show her his and he seemed genuinely interested in it. The raven-haired spitfire almost didn't know what to do with that strange kind of innocence in comparison to the people she normally dealt with. With her life-giving liquid in her cup, she brought it to where she sat. The woman perched herself upon the client chair, side ways so her feet and lower legs dangled off the ledge.

Dorian's familiar silver eyes seemed to rove over the first page, the moment he cracked open the cover. The man soon lit up with surprise and delight all at once. That comment that his brother adored puns despite the man's serious nature. The brother.. She had remembered the other name Matteo had tattooed and yet wondered if they all looked like him like Dorian did.... If that description were correct, how vastly different sides of the coin his sons were. How different Matteo was.

"He does? Although, pretty sure that the frequent use of puns and appreciation of them is a sign of intelligence. At least you brother finds humour in something. Nothing worse than someone being too serious and stuck up. Mine can't even dredge up that. But that might just might be around me." Her slender shoulders rose and fell in a dismissive shrug that the mention of her brother. His continual disapproval of her was almost a given at this point.

It perhaps spurred the next question. If Dorian had a brother, that would make him a prince, right? She never knew the rules to those titles and she supposed she never would. Then the matter of immortality just went and made things entirely confusing. "Are you and your brother close?" She enquired casually as she drank that really good coffee while Dorian continued to flip through the pages of her creations. She was hardly shy by it, but usually people that got to see those personal pieces weren't exactly strangers.

Those astute violet eyes watched him intently over the rim of her coffee as she made herself comfortable, one leg left dangling, the other lifted to tuck into her as if she was sitting half cross-legged as Dorian flipped through page after page without much commentary. At least at first.

He claimed her works were unique and he liked it immensely. She almost snorted at the politically correctness of his comment. "Honestly, I wasn't sure it was going to be your... cup of tea. Its very different than yours and those flowers you took a liking to up front." Then again, politicians all spoke in that way that disguised their words so perfectly. She hardly expected from the man to comment more. Let alone something so.... observant. It caught her off guard, as well as the deeper meaning behind it.

It was astute, perhaps more than anyone else had garnered from her work before him. How she seemed to look at him a little differently from that point on, resting the bottom of her cup on her thigh, those sharp eyes met his gaze as her gaze narrowed in consideration.

"You are the first person who noticed that." There was something appreciative about her tone, perhaps... only another artist could pick up on that. Or maybe Dorian was more in tune than she had first realized. But his question... if greyscale was how she saw the world. "Yeah, I guess I do. I also like it because I find it honest. Colour can distract. You can take colour away and still see a full picture... when you remove the shades, all it is... is blobs of colour. Maybe greyscale to me is the closest to truth I'll ever get. Although, I never used to think that way. I thought it was either one way or another for the longest time." She seemed almost surprised by her honest answer, almost wishing she could stuff it back ad yet it was out. She leaned forward to reach for the sketchbook that Dorian offered back. She welcomed the book back and placed it beside her on that tattoo bed.

All was fine and dandy as he began to pull out his own sketchbook to begin his work. He made it seem like a natural place to start and yet she hardly enjoyed being under someone else's microscope. But Dorian then went and asked her to speak of herself? She could feel the internal groan. Ugh. Who enjoyed that? It felt way too much like a job interview. Forced and formal. She sighed.

"My aura not being all that helpful?" She considered that question again, not hiding that face that she hardly found it enjoyable. Harley was many things.. Subtle, she was not. "Well that's a loaded question. I like and dislike a lot of things. I hate questions like these. Does that count? The whole getting to know you stage with awkward questions is my least favourite thing. I do like this coffee though and those pastries are damn good too." If this is what he meant, than she could manage. But he suspiciously probably meant more...

"But I can answer what you asked at least, in part. You come across weirdly genuine and I kind of like that. I guess I can return the favour. I had family. They died. I do have a brother but I rarely see him and we don't have much of a relationship. He is a hunter used to be quarterback captain kind of guy." It was easier to keep it glossed over, plus, no one ever really wanted to know the real shit. This was a superficial world after all. That particular topic was a whole other can of worms. It was easy to veer away from.
"Me? What you see if what you get. I'm an all or nothing, ride or die kind of chick. Probably why I can count the people in my life on one hand. I lack a filter more often than don't. I'm really good at pissing people off, its a special talent. I have plenty of those. I love my dog and umm witty conversation.. That counts, right? I love the unexpected. I like honesty even though I can also hate it. This also feels like a dating ad, I hate that." Then again, the idea of anyone truly knowing her felt odd. She was in a world that was determined to not. To the vampires she was nothing but a pet. A tool. To everyone else, she was... everything they chose to see in her.

"Onto the things hate... Most vampires, alpha male syndrome, small talk, serious people are not my kind of people. In fact, I don't think most people are. I can do this all damn day but I don't think you'll know me anymore than when you walked in here. Besides, you aren't really interested in any of this, are you?" That was some honesty and yet there was so much more.. Unfathomable, exhausting, irritating. That final question was almost a challenge onto itself. She waited for the answer with that no bullshit expression plastered on her face.

"Now that you know a bit about me... because there is no way in hell we could cover it all. I want to know something about you. Does it ever bother you not being able to live your life without restrictions? Don't you ever crave freedom? Free from all the rules and what society dictates?" How good did that sound? The notion of freedom. What she would do to be free from this city.. Especially when it didn't equal her death sentence. Hey, a girl could dream.

Harley Westward