The Lone Cowboy
Down the stairs came the fumbling cowboy, taking them two at a time until the last two. He darted away from the light that spilled through the back window. Tucking down his Stetson he slammed the drapes closed them with a satisfied grin and pulled up a bottle of o pos popping off the cap.
She could feel ice drops freezing at the ends of her hair and fur muffle. Elisabetta trudged up the porch steps and across it. A smile was barely managed for Guido as he held open the door for her, too cold for her to find her voice. Inward she moved, the warmth of the empty inn washing over her in relief. "Ooh," was all she mustered, making a beeline for the bar to find something warm to drink.
The smell hit his nose and he took a deep breath. Settling the bottle down he began buttoning the tan shirt that hung open on him. This time of the morning was so peaceful. When the female entered he froze in place. Deer in the headlights, his eyes wide and following every move she made, fingers frozen on that third button. A sweep of his hand sent the bottle into the waste basket before it was noticed.
She hadn't taken notice of him until she heard the bottle drop into the rubbish bin. Feet stopped moving and she froze mid-step for a brief moment, green eyes looking to the man behind the bar. If her cheeks were not already flushed from the cold, they were definitely burning in embarrassment. Casually, she continued her trek to the bar. "Many apologies, sir. Ye tending?" she started to ask, but the words died on her lips as the Nexus ate him up. He would be gone in an instant and then WHAM thrown back into the inn back behind the bar onto his rear hat flew off. A hand shot out to grab it and it was back on his head pulled low in an instant. Reaching up, fingers gripping the edge of the bar top he pulled himself back to standing effortlessly. He tipped his hat to the woman and rubbed idly at the back of his neck. His words were smooth with a deep southern drawl. "No, Ma'am, can't say as I am...But I'll be sure to find ya somethin' if it's what yer wantin"."
Elisabetta withdrew her hands from the muff, taking it off from around her neck. A brow rose at his sudden reappearance. "Nexus likes ye much, eh?" a wry smile. "Just a cuppa orange spice tea, iff'n' it is nae too much trouble, please." Next, the chape's jeweled morse was unclasped and the chape gently folded.
"I bin tryin' to get my head wrapped the thing but it never stops pushing me and pullin me all around." Mason looked around the bar with unfamiliarity. A porcelain kettle found and his neck craned over to look inside of it. Pulling a tap on the coffee machine it hissed hot water and he shoved the kettle under. He set down the kettle in front of her and rummaged for creamer and sugar and honey. All that accounted for, he tussled his fingers through some tea bags finding a bright orange packet and came out with it wedged between two fingers. Setting it next to her other tea paraphernalia. Seemingly pleased with himself the closet vamp took up a just for show bottle of water and unscrewed the top never taking a sip.
Both were set on the stool beside her before she took the liberty of carefully perching herself upon the other. A grateful smile was provided for Mason. "Thank ye muchly, kind sir." Gloved digits soothed out invisible wrinkles in her skirts before they extended for the kettle and tea bag packet. The packet was carefully opened, the tea bag dropped into the kettle as she opened the top. The top was set back down so she could allow the tea to soak and she looked back to Mason. "New to Rhy'Din?"
"No, Ma'am." He shook his head and as long digits curled around the bottle. He had to keep in mind not to squeeze the bottle, for fear of spraying water all over again. He recapped the bottle and both brows raised to her from behind their black brimmed hiding place. "And yerself?"
A bright smile. "Nae, 'fraid not. Been here a while." Perhaps too long, at that. She shrugged lightly as she moved to grab her thick drawing pad and charcoal. "From whence did ye hail from?" she asked, looking back up to him.
Mason was confused at her way of speaking but he got it, "I'm not from around here. By far not even close. But I am makin" the best of what I've got here." He was always vague. People who knew him well enough would realize it was his way of keeping everyone at arms" length. But for those who didn't, it was probably just annoying.
"I know what ye mean," she nodded. Despite her use of old language, she had caught on a bit with the newer dialects a bit. The pad and charcoal lay forgotten on the bar top as she reached for the kettle. Lifting it, she went to pour it into the mug. A blink. An eyebrow rose as she looked up to Mason. "Can I request a mug from ye, please?" she smiled sheepishly.
"Oh...Oh...Umm," He scurried in a full circle and fumbled around lifting things and looking for a mug. He found an ale stein and figured that wouldn't work, finally laying his eyes on a what could be a tea cup. He reached up to the top shelf grabbing a coffee mug and setting it down in front of her. Only after he peeked inside to make sure there was no dust. If he had circulation and were he capable of blushing he'd be on fire. Instead he pulled his hat down further and leaned on the opposite wall. "Beg yer pardon Miss."
"Many thanks!" she beamed up at him appreciatively before pouring the tea into her mug. Returning the kettle to its prior spot, she then moved for the sugar. Several teaspoons were dumped into the cup before she was satisfied enough to idly stir it in.
Mason watched amused, human tendencies fascinated him and this was no exception. His stares may have been felt but with the hat tucked so low he couldn't be seen as staring. A tug inside of him missed coffee for just an instant before he pushed it away rubbing again at the back of his neck. "Welcome."
Elisabetta was aware of his gaze, but was used to it as she often assessed others of all sorts with that same look. The contours of beings fascinated her and she often would spend much time drawing detailed sketches of beings, then spend days back in her loft sculpting them; hence why she seemed nonexistent more often than not. She raised the mug, deeply inhaling the spiced scent before drawing a sip from it. "Mmm," she breathed out of her nose in joy of the warmth and taste.
That smile burned bright and there was no missing it. Hat pulled low or not. He was certainly a strange one. He would simply wrap his fingers on the counter opposite the bar and pull himself onto it. His hat inched back a little showing he was a tad more comfortable with the situation. "Good?" Curious eyes peeked out at her; they were a chestnut and a lot more kind than that of his kin.
"Extremely. Would ye like to try some?" she inquired, the mug held out for him in case he did want a taste. She liked the angles of his face, and decided that she would sketch him if he consented. "Ye have pretty eyes," duly noted.
His jaw was set and the corners of his mouth turned up at the offer. He seemed in thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I can smell it from here Miss, an' it sure smells great, but no. I'll let you enjoy your tea." He froze again as she complemented his eyes and then fumbled at words. "Thank you. Yer hair smells real pretty." Way to go captain moron. He grabbed the brim of his hat and pulled it down low again. Of all the things to say that probably wasn't the one he would have chosen.
She giggled childishly at his compliment from behind a gloved hand, cheeks inflaming at a slow and steady rate. "Thank ye muchly, kind sir," she thanked him, giggling into her mug still as she drew another sip. Her gaze was torn away from his as he hid behind his hat, and she looked shyly down at her drawing pad in anticipation. Digits were itching to get around to the sketch. Quickly her chin went up as she looked back at him. "May I draw ye?" the words were jumbled and rushed out quickly.
"Do I have to take off my hat?" The way he asked made it clear there would be no deal if the answer was yes. He smiled pulling the hat off long enough for him to brush his hair behind both ears and smooth it back. When he settled it back on his head it rested there normally. His face exposed to her. For the first time his face wasn't in shadows and he smiled to her. A handsome smile. Warm and inviting. His attempt at being charming so he could leave the hat on.::
"Nae, nae, o' course not," Elisabetta responded quickly, not wanting him to back out. She set her mug down and snatched up the drawing pad and charcoal. A booted foot rose to rest on the rung of the stool standing opposite. This provided her a 'table' if you will, the pad settling against her thigh so she could begin her business. "Perfect, thank ye muchly." She liked his posture like that, and began methodologically. His eyes were first, with their genuine intensity, and she spent several long moments on them. Occasionally she'd pause to look back up at his face, analyzing the angles.
A really short woman was just waking up, having slept rather uncomfortably the night before at a local motel. She had just arrived from far away and needed a place to stay. The room hadn't been the best at all, so she was in no mood for being harassed today. With the bar just around the corner from the motel, however, it didn't seem like her wish would be granted....She made her way to the bar anyways after making herself presentable and seated herself near a woman who seemed to be drunk already.
Mason just sat there frozen. His posture just a bit nonchalant, fingers wrapped over the edge of the counter. His only motion was the shifting of his eyes as he watched her. Every stroke with the charcoal made him smirk but when she looked back to him. It was as if he wasn't watching her at all. Just sitting perfectly still, with a self-conscious smirk.
The woman would be looking at the drunk, watching as she held a drawing pad in one hand, charcoal in the other. This is sure to be interesting. She watched without staring too rudely while waiting for someone to take her order. How long is it going to take to wait for a coffee"
Elisabetta did not look up at the woman who sat so near herself at the bar, as she did not even notice her arrival. A small frown tugged downward at her face, and she diverted from the angulations of his chin to darken his eyes a little more. Feeling more satisfied with that, she then touched on the bridge of his nose, trying to make it so life-like it would stick out of the paper upon glancing at it. Looking back up at Mason, she tilted her head and squinted, studying him as if he were a science project she was about to dissect. Maybe that was just exactly what she was doing. A moment passed before she returned her full attention to the pad, the charcoal scratching noisily against it.
Mason's head turned now to the new woman and he canted his head to her. "Anything you'd like you can just come on around and get it. There isn't a tender. I'm more or less just sitting back here." That drawl was thick but he spoke as if he knew what he was talking about. A smile to the new woman before she disappeared. Then he looked back to the one sketching away. The way she looked at him made him double check that he was still dressed. Something about the artist's eyes made him feel exposed.
And exposed he was, they do say that the eyes are like windows looking into the soul, or something along those lines. Elisabetta fell deaf to his comment to the lady as she was so focused on his smile and jaw-line. She did not even notice the woman's disappearance. Trying to sketch lightly again, a change from the expressionate eyes, she made the contour of the lips soft and inviting. Just another touch to make the smile appear more genuine and charming like the subject's was.
Mason's expression went back to being frozen on his stone like features, the set of jaw softer but only because of the soft smile. The ferocity of his eyes seemed a paradox, steely like that of a monster but bright and inviting. The drapes had been pulled when he awoke to come downstairs. His eyes shifting to take into account the light that slanted in through the closed drapes. He would be able to be still for another hour or so before he had to move.
Luckily for him, she would not take quite that long, as she was almost finished from that angle. She was finishing up on he ear, shading in the shadows. Again, her attention was drawn back to his eyes, and she looked up at him for reaffirmation before returning to the sketch to add the shadings around his eyes. She looked up again, tilting her head at his slight unease, but she did not comment for fear of embarrassing him. "I promise it shall not take me much longer. Could ye just turn your head the other way, please" I would like to get the other side of it." It was more of a command than a request, but it did not sound as such.
He nodded and turned his head now focusing elsewhere. It bothered him but only because he could no longer watch her as she worked. He wondered how many people lay frozen in the pages of her sketch book, but he didn't dare utter a word again for fear of breaking her concentration. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.
Most that lay frozen in her drawing books were Venetians from a long time ago when she first began. Alas, her sketched have become a little less frequent. The other side of his face would not take nearly as long, so he would not have to focus elsewhere much. She began adeptly, working on the contours of his face, jaw line, hairline, and neck, just to get that backside so she would have almost a complete 360 degree visualization of his face. Later, it would be sculpted, complete with his hat, too.
A stone man turned into a stone sculpture. It seemed all too appropriate. When he heard the scratching of her charcoal he would turn and peek at her. His smile was bright and broad, touching from ear to ear. He got serious again and turned his face back so as not to disturb her work.
Mason was lucky she didn't notice, she might've turned to scold him. Elisabetta often did that, though it was never meant in a mean manner. She tried to explain that to her art students, but they never seemed to understand it. Maybe it was an art thing. After several minutes she looked up, turning her head from side to side as she examined the backside of his head. It was the hat that was throwing her off and the hair a bit, too. Teeth bit into her lower lip absently, another frown tugging lightly before she resumed her sketch. She was trying to texture his hair and not make the hat look so flat. It took her several moments still to correct this.
Mason felt her emotions. More that he heard them. Her teeth chewing down on her lip, the turning of her head. The tiny raise of her blood pressure as she was a bit frustrated. And with his back to her he took a deep breath and slowly reaching up he would pull the hat back and off. Setting it down beside him and running his fingers through his hair. Now he really felt naked. But he hoped it would help her.
She didn't notice he had taken the hat off until she looked back up, and a smile curved across her face in excitement. Looking back down at her sketch, she avidly began another in the corner, beginning with the contour of his head. It hadn't been necessary for him to withdraw it, but it did help her. She sketched off the hairline, texturing it as she saw fit. Briefly, she glanced back up to make sure she had it right, then she would return to it to darken certain areas before beginning on his ear. The ear was really one of the more complex parts, but also one of her favorites.
The smell of the bottle of O-Positive hit him and he glared angrily at the trash bucket, never making a sound. Eyes again sweeping over to the woman, whom he hadn't even learned a name to link with her. A small chuckle and he turned back and returned to being still. It was strange, being scrutinized he wondered if she found imperfections and if they would be immortalized forever in her book. The thought made him nervous and then all at once he let the whole idea go. A slow breath taken. At least he would know if his ears were the same size or not.
Catching his name had not occurred to her yet, as she was used to studying from afar and unseen, names did not come and go so freely. She had already labeled this sketch as 'Lone Cowboy', and that would stick with her. Everyone has flaws and imperfections, but they are not normally seen as so by artists. They are just another part of a being, what distinguishes them from others as well as a defining characteristic. Like the fact his ears were not entirely symmetrical or the same size. That was nothing bad. She liked his hair, the way it framed his almost symmetrical face- which only further accentuated his attractiveness. Little things like that is a blessing in disguise, the little things no one ever notices. Preparing to finish up, she shaded his cheek and jaw line. Frowning again, she looked up at him for a last assessment, tilting her head. Returning her focus to the sketch, she smiled in satisfaction. "Done!" She dropped her leg, turning back in her stool to face the bar and to set the pad and charcoal down. Her not-completely-forgotten tea was sought out, and she took a sip from the now lukewarm drink. From over the rim of her mug, she smiled at Mason. "Thank ye muchly for allowing me the pleasure to sketch ye. Would ye like to see it?"
When she spoke at first he smiled, with the word done he firstly picked up the hat and running his fingers through his hair he held the hat and gently set it back on his head. Hey a man had to have his priorities. He crossed the gap between the back counter and the bar and as if it was a hop. He was sitting there on the bar top now. Two seats down from her, he sat facing her cross legged, neck craned towards her. "I think that that is entirely up to you. It's your work miss. I'd feel privileged to see it."
She watched him put his hat back on, and chuckled. That thing was like a security blanket, in her eyes. Maybe because it covered him up" Replacing the tea on the bar, she lifted the pad and handed it out to him. "I hope ye like it." There was a soft blush, perhaps from an uncanny fear of insecurity, that maybe he would not like it.
He was extremely careful when he took the pad from her, making sure his icy fingers didn't touch her. Making sure to be careful, but most importantly being sure to not get too close. He looked it over and that boyish smile returned eyes looked himself over and he reached up touching his own face. "Its amazin' how fast you got this done I never seen anything like this. Thas' fer sure."
It felt like it took anon," Elisabetta admitted unabashedly. Taking no notice of his space security precautions, she beamed up at him when he complimented her. "I am glad ye like it." She found herself still analyzing him, smiling softly at his boyish look.
"It takes me ages to write something new." He set the pad down and with two fingers on the edge he gently nudged it back to her. He was utterly fascinated by this human. A small breath and he smiled broad again, the scent of her hair striking him again. "I don't mean to be so...bold miss but I was wondering if you had a name you'd be willin' ta share."
"Oh, ye write?" she asked just before he made an inquiry for her name, then it lay forgotten. A soft, tinkling laugh before she responded. "I doubt that's bold, but you may call me Elisabetta anyway." A gloved hand reached out for the pad, drawing back toward her. "And ye are..?"
"Elisabeta." He whispered as if committing it to memory. A nod noted that he wouldn't forget and he turned his face back to the sketch pad and smiled. "I kinda like that name better, but at any cost I'm Mason. It's a pleasure Miss Elisabetta."
"Likewise, Sir Mason," she smiled warmly at him before finding her tea again for a sip. "Are ye here often?"
"I..." He was about to break his ruling on being vague but he thought against it and nodded his head to her. Eyes shifting to the one who was attempting to bring the bad mood. His ill feelings would wash past mason as if they weren't there. A sigh to her and he nodded again. "More often than not."
Her face lit up when he nodded, and she smiled from behind her mug, unaffected by the dark one's attempt to bring despair upon her. "Then there is a chance we shall run into one another again, yes?"
" I certainly hope so." He smiled to her again with that charming boylike grin. A chuckle to himself as he watched her behind that mug. He knew he should be going back to the darkness granted by his room but he wasn't ready to go yet. An idea that may prove unwise on his part but it wasn't very polite to invite women to a dark and probably freezing room. Even if it was just to talk.
"I like when ye smile like that," she commented nonchalantly, nodding as if that reaffirmed her statement.
Mason's smile turned a bit nervous and his hand went up to rub at the back of his neck. Eyes sweeping over to her with a nod. "I still like the way yer hair smells. And the way it moves when you nod like that." He spoke half through his teeth as if there was more to that statement, but he didn't let on as to what. Eyes shot to the weak one and prayed there was no blood. He couldn't deal with that, one of those "Please not now" looks painted across his face.
A brow rose delicately and she canted her head at his change in demeanor. She smiled, however, at his comment, which enticed a blush to creep up across her face again. Following his gaze, she looked to the others that were occupying the inn. She frowned, looking back to Mason. "One looks injured." She missed out on this pained expression.
A nod and his lips were quickly pulled into a thin line, his glance darting between the injured boy, the waste bucket and the stairs. Then they fell on the artist and the thought of darting off without explanation almost pained him. So he held his breath and sat perfectly still.
She glanced to the time candle then back to Mason, noting his fidgets. Though she didn't know the real causes for them, she figured it was because he needed to leave but didn't want to. "Must ye take leave, Sir Mason?"
"I...Um...This is going to sound wrong. But would you like to continue this conversation upstairs. I swear on my honor that I have nothin' but pure intentions." This was the part where he was either slapped or very nicely told off. Either would be easier than blowing the woman off.
Her first reaction was to slap him, but instead she opted not to and her smile only faltered a little bit. "I do not think so. For one, that is a very improper inquiry no matter how honest and good the intentions may be. Second, I must make my own departure, unfortunately." She rose from her seat and began pulling her chape back on. "But I am hoping to see ye again, aye?"
"I'd love that." He said knowing that the room would stay his little secret spot made him smile, but the smile was torn down when he realized he'd offended her. Even if that was the plan. He smiled and pulled his brim down to her. "I'll be waiting for the day."
Somehow, that comment made her think of a love song. "Ye may call on me if ye wish, I own a loft downtown," she added, looking at him timidly. Now, maybe she was the one being a little too forward.
"I..." The nervous smile returned and he nodded to her. "I'll find you there. Perhaps you could keep your ears honed for music.? He hinted to her as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, paying for her tea on the way. His response may tell her that he did in fact have pure intentions. He stood at the bottom of the stairs wishing he could walk her to the door, but he keeps his eyes protectively on her.
Elisabetta beamed at him, eyes sparkling at his hint. Pulling her muff back on, she tucked the pad of drawing paper and charcoal away. A waggle of fingers before she tucked her hands into her muff, and a last smile for Mason before she makes her way for the exit.
Ca-rash! He crashed through the door, leaving it unharmed but creating quite a ruckus, wearing his usual suit and tie once again. A blink as he struggled to upright himself then brushed his coat off. "Slippery." Was his excuse as loud clacking steps carried him towards the bar. Stop, glance left, glance right, pivot, and out the door! "See ya!" Exclaimed cheerfully as he went back out into the cold.
And out the door she slipped beside the other man, mentally preparing herself for the impending snowstorm.
Seeing the man crash in he stiffened making sure she was alright, exhaling as she walked out unscathed he waited and then went back upstairs. Locking himself in his room he went to the window and though the light burned him something terrible he watched her walk away.
She felt his gaze on her back as she drew away from the inn and made way for her loft. Though she could not see him through the light snowfall, she smiled anyway, before turning back on her trek.
The dark drapes fell closed again and the guitar was pulled from its stand in the corner of the room. He laid down on the never used bed and began strumming out chords, his icy fingers dancing over the strings. He sighed happily to himself. He'd follow her trail later. Find the loft. Maybe play for her.
((Adapted from live role play, edited for better flow.))
Down the stairs came the fumbling cowboy, taking them two at a time until the last two. He darted away from the light that spilled through the back window. Tucking down his Stetson he slammed the drapes closed them with a satisfied grin and pulled up a bottle of o pos popping off the cap.
She could feel ice drops freezing at the ends of her hair and fur muffle. Elisabetta trudged up the porch steps and across it. A smile was barely managed for Guido as he held open the door for her, too cold for her to find her voice. Inward she moved, the warmth of the empty inn washing over her in relief. "Ooh," was all she mustered, making a beeline for the bar to find something warm to drink.
The smell hit his nose and he took a deep breath. Settling the bottle down he began buttoning the tan shirt that hung open on him. This time of the morning was so peaceful. When the female entered he froze in place. Deer in the headlights, his eyes wide and following every move she made, fingers frozen on that third button. A sweep of his hand sent the bottle into the waste basket before it was noticed.
She hadn't taken notice of him until she heard the bottle drop into the rubbish bin. Feet stopped moving and she froze mid-step for a brief moment, green eyes looking to the man behind the bar. If her cheeks were not already flushed from the cold, they were definitely burning in embarrassment. Casually, she continued her trek to the bar. "Many apologies, sir. Ye tending?" she started to ask, but the words died on her lips as the Nexus ate him up. He would be gone in an instant and then WHAM thrown back into the inn back behind the bar onto his rear hat flew off. A hand shot out to grab it and it was back on his head pulled low in an instant. Reaching up, fingers gripping the edge of the bar top he pulled himself back to standing effortlessly. He tipped his hat to the woman and rubbed idly at the back of his neck. His words were smooth with a deep southern drawl. "No, Ma'am, can't say as I am...But I'll be sure to find ya somethin' if it's what yer wantin"."
Elisabetta withdrew her hands from the muff, taking it off from around her neck. A brow rose at his sudden reappearance. "Nexus likes ye much, eh?" a wry smile. "Just a cuppa orange spice tea, iff'n' it is nae too much trouble, please." Next, the chape's jeweled morse was unclasped and the chape gently folded.
"I bin tryin' to get my head wrapped the thing but it never stops pushing me and pullin me all around." Mason looked around the bar with unfamiliarity. A porcelain kettle found and his neck craned over to look inside of it. Pulling a tap on the coffee machine it hissed hot water and he shoved the kettle under. He set down the kettle in front of her and rummaged for creamer and sugar and honey. All that accounted for, he tussled his fingers through some tea bags finding a bright orange packet and came out with it wedged between two fingers. Setting it next to her other tea paraphernalia. Seemingly pleased with himself the closet vamp took up a just for show bottle of water and unscrewed the top never taking a sip.
Both were set on the stool beside her before she took the liberty of carefully perching herself upon the other. A grateful smile was provided for Mason. "Thank ye muchly, kind sir." Gloved digits soothed out invisible wrinkles in her skirts before they extended for the kettle and tea bag packet. The packet was carefully opened, the tea bag dropped into the kettle as she opened the top. The top was set back down so she could allow the tea to soak and she looked back to Mason. "New to Rhy'Din?"
"No, Ma'am." He shook his head and as long digits curled around the bottle. He had to keep in mind not to squeeze the bottle, for fear of spraying water all over again. He recapped the bottle and both brows raised to her from behind their black brimmed hiding place. "And yerself?"
A bright smile. "Nae, 'fraid not. Been here a while." Perhaps too long, at that. She shrugged lightly as she moved to grab her thick drawing pad and charcoal. "From whence did ye hail from?" she asked, looking back up to him.
Mason was confused at her way of speaking but he got it, "I'm not from around here. By far not even close. But I am makin" the best of what I've got here." He was always vague. People who knew him well enough would realize it was his way of keeping everyone at arms" length. But for those who didn't, it was probably just annoying.
"I know what ye mean," she nodded. Despite her use of old language, she had caught on a bit with the newer dialects a bit. The pad and charcoal lay forgotten on the bar top as she reached for the kettle. Lifting it, she went to pour it into the mug. A blink. An eyebrow rose as she looked up to Mason. "Can I request a mug from ye, please?" she smiled sheepishly.
"Oh...Oh...Umm," He scurried in a full circle and fumbled around lifting things and looking for a mug. He found an ale stein and figured that wouldn't work, finally laying his eyes on a what could be a tea cup. He reached up to the top shelf grabbing a coffee mug and setting it down in front of her. Only after he peeked inside to make sure there was no dust. If he had circulation and were he capable of blushing he'd be on fire. Instead he pulled his hat down further and leaned on the opposite wall. "Beg yer pardon Miss."
"Many thanks!" she beamed up at him appreciatively before pouring the tea into her mug. Returning the kettle to its prior spot, she then moved for the sugar. Several teaspoons were dumped into the cup before she was satisfied enough to idly stir it in.
Mason watched amused, human tendencies fascinated him and this was no exception. His stares may have been felt but with the hat tucked so low he couldn't be seen as staring. A tug inside of him missed coffee for just an instant before he pushed it away rubbing again at the back of his neck. "Welcome."
Elisabetta was aware of his gaze, but was used to it as she often assessed others of all sorts with that same look. The contours of beings fascinated her and she often would spend much time drawing detailed sketches of beings, then spend days back in her loft sculpting them; hence why she seemed nonexistent more often than not. She raised the mug, deeply inhaling the spiced scent before drawing a sip from it. "Mmm," she breathed out of her nose in joy of the warmth and taste.
That smile burned bright and there was no missing it. Hat pulled low or not. He was certainly a strange one. He would simply wrap his fingers on the counter opposite the bar and pull himself onto it. His hat inched back a little showing he was a tad more comfortable with the situation. "Good?" Curious eyes peeked out at her; they were a chestnut and a lot more kind than that of his kin.
"Extremely. Would ye like to try some?" she inquired, the mug held out for him in case he did want a taste. She liked the angles of his face, and decided that she would sketch him if he consented. "Ye have pretty eyes," duly noted.
His jaw was set and the corners of his mouth turned up at the offer. He seemed in thought for a moment and then shook his head. "I can smell it from here Miss, an' it sure smells great, but no. I'll let you enjoy your tea." He froze again as she complemented his eyes and then fumbled at words. "Thank you. Yer hair smells real pretty." Way to go captain moron. He grabbed the brim of his hat and pulled it down low again. Of all the things to say that probably wasn't the one he would have chosen.
She giggled childishly at his compliment from behind a gloved hand, cheeks inflaming at a slow and steady rate. "Thank ye muchly, kind sir," she thanked him, giggling into her mug still as she drew another sip. Her gaze was torn away from his as he hid behind his hat, and she looked shyly down at her drawing pad in anticipation. Digits were itching to get around to the sketch. Quickly her chin went up as she looked back at him. "May I draw ye?" the words were jumbled and rushed out quickly.
"Do I have to take off my hat?" The way he asked made it clear there would be no deal if the answer was yes. He smiled pulling the hat off long enough for him to brush his hair behind both ears and smooth it back. When he settled it back on his head it rested there normally. His face exposed to her. For the first time his face wasn't in shadows and he smiled to her. A handsome smile. Warm and inviting. His attempt at being charming so he could leave the hat on.::
"Nae, nae, o' course not," Elisabetta responded quickly, not wanting him to back out. She set her mug down and snatched up the drawing pad and charcoal. A booted foot rose to rest on the rung of the stool standing opposite. This provided her a 'table' if you will, the pad settling against her thigh so she could begin her business. "Perfect, thank ye muchly." She liked his posture like that, and began methodologically. His eyes were first, with their genuine intensity, and she spent several long moments on them. Occasionally she'd pause to look back up at his face, analyzing the angles.
A really short woman was just waking up, having slept rather uncomfortably the night before at a local motel. She had just arrived from far away and needed a place to stay. The room hadn't been the best at all, so she was in no mood for being harassed today. With the bar just around the corner from the motel, however, it didn't seem like her wish would be granted....She made her way to the bar anyways after making herself presentable and seated herself near a woman who seemed to be drunk already.
Mason just sat there frozen. His posture just a bit nonchalant, fingers wrapped over the edge of the counter. His only motion was the shifting of his eyes as he watched her. Every stroke with the charcoal made him smirk but when she looked back to him. It was as if he wasn't watching her at all. Just sitting perfectly still, with a self-conscious smirk.
The woman would be looking at the drunk, watching as she held a drawing pad in one hand, charcoal in the other. This is sure to be interesting. She watched without staring too rudely while waiting for someone to take her order. How long is it going to take to wait for a coffee"
Elisabetta did not look up at the woman who sat so near herself at the bar, as she did not even notice her arrival. A small frown tugged downward at her face, and she diverted from the angulations of his chin to darken his eyes a little more. Feeling more satisfied with that, she then touched on the bridge of his nose, trying to make it so life-like it would stick out of the paper upon glancing at it. Looking back up at Mason, she tilted her head and squinted, studying him as if he were a science project she was about to dissect. Maybe that was just exactly what she was doing. A moment passed before she returned her full attention to the pad, the charcoal scratching noisily against it.
Mason's head turned now to the new woman and he canted his head to her. "Anything you'd like you can just come on around and get it. There isn't a tender. I'm more or less just sitting back here." That drawl was thick but he spoke as if he knew what he was talking about. A smile to the new woman before she disappeared. Then he looked back to the one sketching away. The way she looked at him made him double check that he was still dressed. Something about the artist's eyes made him feel exposed.
And exposed he was, they do say that the eyes are like windows looking into the soul, or something along those lines. Elisabetta fell deaf to his comment to the lady as she was so focused on his smile and jaw-line. She did not even notice the woman's disappearance. Trying to sketch lightly again, a change from the expressionate eyes, she made the contour of the lips soft and inviting. Just another touch to make the smile appear more genuine and charming like the subject's was.
Mason's expression went back to being frozen on his stone like features, the set of jaw softer but only because of the soft smile. The ferocity of his eyes seemed a paradox, steely like that of a monster but bright and inviting. The drapes had been pulled when he awoke to come downstairs. His eyes shifting to take into account the light that slanted in through the closed drapes. He would be able to be still for another hour or so before he had to move.
Luckily for him, she would not take quite that long, as she was almost finished from that angle. She was finishing up on he ear, shading in the shadows. Again, her attention was drawn back to his eyes, and she looked up at him for reaffirmation before returning to the sketch to add the shadings around his eyes. She looked up again, tilting her head at his slight unease, but she did not comment for fear of embarrassing him. "I promise it shall not take me much longer. Could ye just turn your head the other way, please" I would like to get the other side of it." It was more of a command than a request, but it did not sound as such.
He nodded and turned his head now focusing elsewhere. It bothered him but only because he could no longer watch her as she worked. He wondered how many people lay frozen in the pages of her sketch book, but he didn't dare utter a word again for fear of breaking her concentration. The last thing he wanted was to upset her.
Most that lay frozen in her drawing books were Venetians from a long time ago when she first began. Alas, her sketched have become a little less frequent. The other side of his face would not take nearly as long, so he would not have to focus elsewhere much. She began adeptly, working on the contours of his face, jaw line, hairline, and neck, just to get that backside so she would have almost a complete 360 degree visualization of his face. Later, it would be sculpted, complete with his hat, too.
A stone man turned into a stone sculpture. It seemed all too appropriate. When he heard the scratching of her charcoal he would turn and peek at her. His smile was bright and broad, touching from ear to ear. He got serious again and turned his face back so as not to disturb her work.
Mason was lucky she didn't notice, she might've turned to scold him. Elisabetta often did that, though it was never meant in a mean manner. She tried to explain that to her art students, but they never seemed to understand it. Maybe it was an art thing. After several minutes she looked up, turning her head from side to side as she examined the backside of his head. It was the hat that was throwing her off and the hair a bit, too. Teeth bit into her lower lip absently, another frown tugging lightly before she resumed her sketch. She was trying to texture his hair and not make the hat look so flat. It took her several moments still to correct this.
Mason felt her emotions. More that he heard them. Her teeth chewing down on her lip, the turning of her head. The tiny raise of her blood pressure as she was a bit frustrated. And with his back to her he took a deep breath and slowly reaching up he would pull the hat back and off. Setting it down beside him and running his fingers through his hair. Now he really felt naked. But he hoped it would help her.
She didn't notice he had taken the hat off until she looked back up, and a smile curved across her face in excitement. Looking back down at her sketch, she avidly began another in the corner, beginning with the contour of his head. It hadn't been necessary for him to withdraw it, but it did help her. She sketched off the hairline, texturing it as she saw fit. Briefly, she glanced back up to make sure she had it right, then she would return to it to darken certain areas before beginning on his ear. The ear was really one of the more complex parts, but also one of her favorites.
The smell of the bottle of O-Positive hit him and he glared angrily at the trash bucket, never making a sound. Eyes again sweeping over to the woman, whom he hadn't even learned a name to link with her. A small chuckle and he turned back and returned to being still. It was strange, being scrutinized he wondered if she found imperfections and if they would be immortalized forever in her book. The thought made him nervous and then all at once he let the whole idea go. A slow breath taken. At least he would know if his ears were the same size or not.
Catching his name had not occurred to her yet, as she was used to studying from afar and unseen, names did not come and go so freely. She had already labeled this sketch as 'Lone Cowboy', and that would stick with her. Everyone has flaws and imperfections, but they are not normally seen as so by artists. They are just another part of a being, what distinguishes them from others as well as a defining characteristic. Like the fact his ears were not entirely symmetrical or the same size. That was nothing bad. She liked his hair, the way it framed his almost symmetrical face- which only further accentuated his attractiveness. Little things like that is a blessing in disguise, the little things no one ever notices. Preparing to finish up, she shaded his cheek and jaw line. Frowning again, she looked up at him for a last assessment, tilting her head. Returning her focus to the sketch, she smiled in satisfaction. "Done!" She dropped her leg, turning back in her stool to face the bar and to set the pad and charcoal down. Her not-completely-forgotten tea was sought out, and she took a sip from the now lukewarm drink. From over the rim of her mug, she smiled at Mason. "Thank ye muchly for allowing me the pleasure to sketch ye. Would ye like to see it?"
When she spoke at first he smiled, with the word done he firstly picked up the hat and running his fingers through his hair he held the hat and gently set it back on his head. Hey a man had to have his priorities. He crossed the gap between the back counter and the bar and as if it was a hop. He was sitting there on the bar top now. Two seats down from her, he sat facing her cross legged, neck craned towards her. "I think that that is entirely up to you. It's your work miss. I'd feel privileged to see it."
She watched him put his hat back on, and chuckled. That thing was like a security blanket, in her eyes. Maybe because it covered him up" Replacing the tea on the bar, she lifted the pad and handed it out to him. "I hope ye like it." There was a soft blush, perhaps from an uncanny fear of insecurity, that maybe he would not like it.
He was extremely careful when he took the pad from her, making sure his icy fingers didn't touch her. Making sure to be careful, but most importantly being sure to not get too close. He looked it over and that boyish smile returned eyes looked himself over and he reached up touching his own face. "Its amazin' how fast you got this done I never seen anything like this. Thas' fer sure."
It felt like it took anon," Elisabetta admitted unabashedly. Taking no notice of his space security precautions, she beamed up at him when he complimented her. "I am glad ye like it." She found herself still analyzing him, smiling softly at his boyish look.
"It takes me ages to write something new." He set the pad down and with two fingers on the edge he gently nudged it back to her. He was utterly fascinated by this human. A small breath and he smiled broad again, the scent of her hair striking him again. "I don't mean to be so...bold miss but I was wondering if you had a name you'd be willin' ta share."
"Oh, ye write?" she asked just before he made an inquiry for her name, then it lay forgotten. A soft, tinkling laugh before she responded. "I doubt that's bold, but you may call me Elisabetta anyway." A gloved hand reached out for the pad, drawing back toward her. "And ye are..?"
"Elisabeta." He whispered as if committing it to memory. A nod noted that he wouldn't forget and he turned his face back to the sketch pad and smiled. "I kinda like that name better, but at any cost I'm Mason. It's a pleasure Miss Elisabetta."
"Likewise, Sir Mason," she smiled warmly at him before finding her tea again for a sip. "Are ye here often?"
"I..." He was about to break his ruling on being vague but he thought against it and nodded his head to her. Eyes shifting to the one who was attempting to bring the bad mood. His ill feelings would wash past mason as if they weren't there. A sigh to her and he nodded again. "More often than not."
Her face lit up when he nodded, and she smiled from behind her mug, unaffected by the dark one's attempt to bring despair upon her. "Then there is a chance we shall run into one another again, yes?"
" I certainly hope so." He smiled to her again with that charming boylike grin. A chuckle to himself as he watched her behind that mug. He knew he should be going back to the darkness granted by his room but he wasn't ready to go yet. An idea that may prove unwise on his part but it wasn't very polite to invite women to a dark and probably freezing room. Even if it was just to talk.
"I like when ye smile like that," she commented nonchalantly, nodding as if that reaffirmed her statement.
Mason's smile turned a bit nervous and his hand went up to rub at the back of his neck. Eyes sweeping over to her with a nod. "I still like the way yer hair smells. And the way it moves when you nod like that." He spoke half through his teeth as if there was more to that statement, but he didn't let on as to what. Eyes shot to the weak one and prayed there was no blood. He couldn't deal with that, one of those "Please not now" looks painted across his face.
A brow rose delicately and she canted her head at his change in demeanor. She smiled, however, at his comment, which enticed a blush to creep up across her face again. Following his gaze, she looked to the others that were occupying the inn. She frowned, looking back to Mason. "One looks injured." She missed out on this pained expression.
A nod and his lips were quickly pulled into a thin line, his glance darting between the injured boy, the waste bucket and the stairs. Then they fell on the artist and the thought of darting off without explanation almost pained him. So he held his breath and sat perfectly still.
She glanced to the time candle then back to Mason, noting his fidgets. Though she didn't know the real causes for them, she figured it was because he needed to leave but didn't want to. "Must ye take leave, Sir Mason?"
"I...Um...This is going to sound wrong. But would you like to continue this conversation upstairs. I swear on my honor that I have nothin' but pure intentions." This was the part where he was either slapped or very nicely told off. Either would be easier than blowing the woman off.
Her first reaction was to slap him, but instead she opted not to and her smile only faltered a little bit. "I do not think so. For one, that is a very improper inquiry no matter how honest and good the intentions may be. Second, I must make my own departure, unfortunately." She rose from her seat and began pulling her chape back on. "But I am hoping to see ye again, aye?"
"I'd love that." He said knowing that the room would stay his little secret spot made him smile, but the smile was torn down when he realized he'd offended her. Even if that was the plan. He smiled and pulled his brim down to her. "I'll be waiting for the day."
Somehow, that comment made her think of a love song. "Ye may call on me if ye wish, I own a loft downtown," she added, looking at him timidly. Now, maybe she was the one being a little too forward.
"I..." The nervous smile returned and he nodded to her. "I'll find you there. Perhaps you could keep your ears honed for music.? He hinted to her as he made his way to the bottom of the stairs, paying for her tea on the way. His response may tell her that he did in fact have pure intentions. He stood at the bottom of the stairs wishing he could walk her to the door, but he keeps his eyes protectively on her.
Elisabetta beamed at him, eyes sparkling at his hint. Pulling her muff back on, she tucked the pad of drawing paper and charcoal away. A waggle of fingers before she tucked her hands into her muff, and a last smile for Mason before she makes her way for the exit.
Ca-rash! He crashed through the door, leaving it unharmed but creating quite a ruckus, wearing his usual suit and tie once again. A blink as he struggled to upright himself then brushed his coat off. "Slippery." Was his excuse as loud clacking steps carried him towards the bar. Stop, glance left, glance right, pivot, and out the door! "See ya!" Exclaimed cheerfully as he went back out into the cold.
And out the door she slipped beside the other man, mentally preparing herself for the impending snowstorm.
Seeing the man crash in he stiffened making sure she was alright, exhaling as she walked out unscathed he waited and then went back upstairs. Locking himself in his room he went to the window and though the light burned him something terrible he watched her walk away.
She felt his gaze on her back as she drew away from the inn and made way for her loft. Though she could not see him through the light snowfall, she smiled anyway, before turning back on her trek.
The dark drapes fell closed again and the guitar was pulled from its stand in the corner of the room. He laid down on the never used bed and began strumming out chords, his icy fingers dancing over the strings. He sighed happily to himself. He'd follow her trail later. Find the loft. Maybe play for her.
((Adapted from live role play, edited for better flow.))