nate arnoult.

“Ok, fair enough. but five minutes is hardly worth it for me,” he commented, in a candid yet cordial tone. He’d been trying to solve the riddle of where to go to find a classy, impressionable gift at the last minute in a small ass town (not that he didn’t understand the appeal of small towns. Shit, the air even smelled better. Plus people were kinder, for the most part.) 

The gallery had come up on his radar on a tireless search of the net. He was desperate to say the least. 

“I’m confident I can make staying open worth it for you though. You own the place or just work here?” He asked, a last ditch effort as he scoped out the pieces through the window.

-

Confident I can make it worth it... Nathan’s brow quirked at that and his dropped his cigarette, crushing it under his boot and scraping it off the curb into the gutter. “I own it,” he started, “ ‘S not my art though.” Nathan gestured to a small info card under a piece in the window display, denoting the young artist name and home town of Indianapolis. “I travel a lot, like to bring something different to this town. Got any ideas what you’re looking for? Or just waiting for something to catch your eye?” He stepped back, waved a welcoming hand into the building, and followed after the other as he crossed the threshold into the gallery. 

x

Sofia wasn’t sure what she was doing wandering the streets as the sun started to set but she was tired of being cooped up in her apartment and she didn’t start her shift at the diner for another hour so she was exploring a little more than she usually did. Starting over was harder than she thought it would be and the fear of what might be lurking in Heartsdale was enough most of the time to keep her to a strict schedule. But she was trying. Hudson had promised to help keep her secrets safe and make sure nothing happened to her so she was trying. A voice brought her out of her thoughts as she looked into the little gallery through the windows. “Oh, I was just…” She shook her head and turned dark eyes on the man sitting outside. “Is it your place? All that art in there?”

-

He glanced over his shoulder into his gallery, as if he had to double check if any of the art was his. “Nah,” he replied, still gazing into the interior of the building, “Right now I’m featuring a kid from Indiana.” The cigarette bounced in his hand as he gestured to the inside, ashes falling languidly as he flicked it with the nail of his thumb. It’d been a long time since he displayed his own art, finding some weird comfort in separating the two parts of his life - artist, an intimate, quiet affair with canvas or clay, and gallery owner, charismatic, affable, open. “Y’wanna take a look?” 

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 dips further beneath the horizon with each passing step,  his languid strides growing more purposeful as the gallery’s awning comes into view.  the broader the distance grew between august and his own place of work,  the more he found himself shedding his practiced placidity  (  people,  he’d learned,  generally preferred a calmer bedside manner from the person taking a needle to your skin  )  for the restless energy he’d spent the better part of a day cultivating  —  mostly through iced coffee and red bull.  squinting the glare from his eyes,  a bright grin tugs at his features at the sight of nate camped out up front.  “  just five minutes ?  damn.  so much for the heist i had in mind  —  my fence is gonna be so bummed.  ”  a joke,  of course,  but his words catch the attention of two old ladies,  both of whom clutch their massive handbags a little tighter as they cross the street.  he had a feeling the duo was at least partially responsible for nathan lighting that cigarette.  “  thoughts on locking up early ?  i hear there’s karaoke at the nickelback tonight   —  bad dolly parton covers and all you can drink tequila shots.  ”

.

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. Nathan was thankful for the familiar face, especially after the day he just had. Even before those ladies had come in and lectured him for 3 hours on the importance of protecting the craft - bitch, he went to college & it was much more recent than you. He sighed, took another drag from his cigarette and let the tension release from his shoulders; there was no reason to still be upset. “You had me at locking up early.” As if those weren’t the first words out of his friend’s mouth. Fluidly, Nathan reached his hand into the inside wall of his gallery and flicked off all the lights, pulled the door shut, and twisted a key in the lock. “Tequila... “ He laughed, shook his hair off his face. “Y’know I don’t fuck with tequila anymore, man.” Though, despite his best protest, they both knew Nate would knock back at least 4 tequila shots that evening. 

Kit was waling back to her car after a great meal with a friend at the Juniper Cafe when she paused in front of the local gallery. She had passed it’s window many times and always made sure to peek in. Upon the sound of a voice her attention turned to a man smoking a cigarette. She hated the smell, and hated that it also made her want one too.

“Are you the artist featured tonight?” Kit glanced into the gallery. She had been there a couple of times and thought she recognized the man speaking to her, though that was was typical of a smaller town like this. Her eyes followed his cigarette up to his lips, she smoked the last of her pack a few days ago and has been too busy to drop by the gas station and grab another one. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra one of those, would you?” She asked.

-

“Not so much,” Nathan shrugged, taking a peek inside his gallery as though he didn’t know every piece that was hanging on his walls - he was sure he knew those canvases better than he knew his own body. “I do own the place, though.” He continued, sure that he’d lost at least some portion of her attention.

Her eyes had been following his hand, drawn in by the glowing tip of the cigarette. Nathan recognized the look and was already pulling his pack before tucking back in his jacket and replacing it with a lighter. His thumb flicked and the fire burned bright against the coolness of the setting sun. Nathan held the flame out, allowing her to light the cigarette before tucking that away in his pocket again. “Tryin’ quit or just in between packs?” He questioned with a chuckle, trying to gauge this woman. 

James let out a laugh at his old friend’s expression, he had very little filter and most people who knew James knew that about him. “I know, I know, been relying on the cute my whole life,” he joked along with him. “You know me, the bad jokes just pop into my head and I say them out loud. Like I do with most things really.” He laughed. “I’d like to say I have some better jokes, but that would be a lie.”

-

Nathan chuckled and swigged down his drink - the glass made a satisfying thunk as it met the wood of the table. “Not a lie,” he retorted, “I’ve definitely heard better.” The man thought back to their time in England, when they were growing up. He was a bit too young at the time to have specific memories of their time together as kids, but he did remember running, laughing, truly being a kid. He missed that kind of carelessness.. “I’m not sure how, but you were funnier when we were kids.” From anyone else, that may have sounded like an insult but from Nathan, and he was sure James knew it, it was in a most complimentary manner.

“Just five minutes?” Yasemin’s brows rose on her face, giving a mixed look of surprise and wistfulness.

Having only been in town a few days now, she had been splitting her time between her sister’s couches and was working double time to find a rental to move into so she didn’t cramp either of their style. Thankfully, Halime was a realtor and that helped when it came to options and access, but money was also the issue. Her savings was good but how long could she survive jobless?

“I don’t know if that’s going to be enough time for me to find something good for the walls of my new place…” Whenever she should get it in the coming week or two.

The best thing since leaving Paris behind was that everything was so much cheaper in Heartsdale, so there was comfort that her money could go a little further. Though, someone would argue, her parents most likely, that spending on art might not be the wisest choice when it came to tight budgeting and finances.

“I mean, I could come back. What are your hours usually?”

-

“Well, if you’re buying -” Nathan jumped up from his perch, or rather lean, against the tall window and held out his hand to her, a small smile tugging up the corner of his lips as they shook. After those old ladies, he wasn’t sure he could remember the elated feeling of selling a piece, of calling an artist and giving them the good news. Maybe she could change that.

“I’m Nathan, owner.” He smiled and ashed his cigarette, holding it as far away from the pair as possible. When he took a drag, Nathan made a point to blow it to the side, away from her - his mom had long ago taught him common decencies like that and despite a rather rocky relationship with the woman, he was thankful she’d taken the time to make sure he wouldn’t be a total asshole. “Usually open ‘til seven on weekdays but if you’re serious about buying, I s’pose I can stay open.” The cigarette was dropped and crushed under his boot, kicked into the street - he wanted to keep his storefront clean and welcoming, but didn’t give enough of a shit about the planet to pick up the butt ... Priorities. “C’mon in.”

-

Colt was working on buying a house. The furniture and art and really everything from the house he shared with Aly during his marriage had been ceremoniously sold or donated. Each thing he sold he sent half of the check to Aly’s lawyer to give to her. It really wasn’t part of the legal agreement but both of their money had been spent on the furniture and he… well, he wanted to make sure she was fine. Colt had long since given up trying to apply reason to his thoughts. He was the one who fucked up, but it didn’t mean the rest of the feelings went away. At the artist’s words, Colt gave him a grin. “Mrs. Danes and Mrs. Calloway really gave you hell, huh?” He knew the two. They came into his practice a week after he opened it to talk is ear off. And likely gather information on why he was back in town. “Careful with those two, they’re head of the town grapevine. Solid vignerons, those two.”

.

Nate gave the man an apprehensive look - he usually didn’t trust people whose first instinct was to talk shit, but ... “Three hours, man. Three hours they set up camp and scared off anyone else who walked through the doors with their -” air quotes “- critiques.” Indulgence, he thought to himself, is one of the small pleasures of life. Let them talk shit! He raised a curved hand against his brow, daring another glance into the sinking sun, at the pair down the street. Back at UCLA, when he was studying for his art history, Nathan had promised himself that he would never judge someone’s interpretation of a piece, everyone was looking at it through different life experiences, through a different lens, but he’d made an exception for those two ladies. “So I probably shouldn’t have told them off for being ignorant and uncultured?” He shrugged and took a drag off his cigarette, breaking into a smile. “Maybe not in so many words but -- well, I can spare the business of those two.” A chuckle, another wave of his hand as he gestured along the shop-filled road. “You own anything along here?”

The rock that lived just outside the gallery’s front door was nudged into place, keeping the swinging door open while Nathan stepped outside. He tucked a cigarette between his lips and pulled the flame against its tip with a deep inhale. The man had a long day - a couple of ladies had decided to set up shop in his gallery for 3 hours & they’d only just left. The pair had hounded him about every piece and while Nathan usually loved the excuse to chat up about the art on his walls, they were just ... rude. He sighed out the smoke, sitting against the ledge of the tall windowsill & watching the rest of the town go by. The man spotted the pair of old ladies, meandering down the street, probably off to bother another poor shop owner before dinner. His eyes shifted, away from the sharp glare of the sinking sun and towards a figure pausing in front of his windows. “If you’re planning on going in, you’ve got about 5 minutes - “ Nathan waved the hand holding his cigarette as a vague gesture, “ - before I close up.” He took another drag, grinned, shrugged. 

“Here, here, I’ve got one for you. Okay,” he pretended to clear his throat as he prepared to tell his joke. “My girlfriend asked me to stop singing ‘Wonderwall’ to her.” He paused. “I said maybe…” the male grinned, hitting his hands against the table.

With an eyebrow shot high on his forehead, Nathan resisted the urge to laugh. He loved the guy, he really did - they’d been friends for longer than Nate could remember and were lucky enough to have reconnected in this tiny town -- but that was so terrible, it was almost funny. James was one of the reasons he decided to come back to Heartsdale after he finished his van trip. Clapping a hand on James’ shoulder, Nate shook his head and gave a chuckle. “Lucky you’re cute, mate,” he grinned. He’s been in the States half his life, but ... old habits die hard, mate. “What other jokes y’got?”

who: open 

where: downtown

when: now

@heartsdalestarters​

Leaving the movies with popcorn and a flat soda in hand, Vivienne didn’t have time to scold herself for putting off unpacking another day when she caught the sight of a small dog in the road. Aimless, lost and in more danger than she could stomach. Nearly stumbling out of her boots to reach the small thing, Vivienne scooped it up into her arms and ambled clumsily back onto the sidewalk. She spoke to the dog while petting it gently behind the ears. “This wasn’t a part of my plan.” She said more to herself than anyone else. A distraction, another thing to keep her from where she was supposed to be, albeit a cute, sweet fury thing. Stopping the next person to pass her by Vivienne looked to them with hopeful eyes, “Do you happen to know if anyone around town has lost a dog?” Nodding to the furry thing in her arms. “It’s got no collar- and seemingly no sense of self preservation.” Vivienne nodded to the traffic in the road. “Was almost sad day.” 

Engrossed in his phone, Nathan pushed the door of his gallery closed as he stepped out. The pocket of his pants fell heavy with the weight of his keys after he locked the door behind himself and tucked a cigarette between his lips, lighting it before beginning down the street. He shouldn’t be closing up this early, he knew that, but Nathan just wasn’t feeling very ... inspired? Artsy? He’d spent the whole afternoon critiquing the pieces hanging on his walls, wondering if the artist from Oklahoma, whose work was currently being shred to bits in Nathan’s mind, truly was ‘the next big thing’ or if he’d done one too many shots with her at that dive bar. He thought back to his time in Oklahoma, one of many trips he’d taken and tried to look at the work hanging with a revitalized mind, reminiscent of the mindset he was in on that trip. Nathan’s brow had furrowed. He had sighed. He had, eventually, given up - looking at a word for too long makes it seem like a jumble of shapes thrown together, Nathan supposed the principle held true for art too. It was only when he caught a figure out of the corner of his eye, practically diving in the street for a small something in the middle of the road, did Nathan look up from his phone, sighing. Well, he thought, at least this gives me something to do. He stepped forward and did a once over of both the girl and the animal - she seemed okay, but the dog had probably seen better days. It wasn’t injured but seemed terrified and covered in dirt. Nate was thankful this woman had picked it up - he didn’t want to get this shirt dirty. “I don’t know,” he replied quickly, ashing his cigarette to the side of them, “But I’m sure we could figure it out.” The man stepped forward, looking for any sign of identification but the dog only had on a collar, no tags. “Definitely looks like he has an owner,” Nate frowned and craned his head. “We could see if someone, uh, posted signs on the light posts or something? Or take ‘im to a vet? Animal shelter, maybe?”

hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D