dark cloud;

“Yeah!” He responded enthusiastically. “The ‘painting fake leaves onto fake trees’ field is rapidly expanding, I hear,” He noted. Unlike the acting business; he was beginning to believe he’d never get his foot in the door. “Uh… Have you thought about where you’re gonna go to college at all?” It was a random question, but to be fair, the conversation about painting trees was rapidly dwindling and he was hoping to get maybe some ideas from her. He hadn’t even dared to start an application yet.

He sure was a master at changing the subject. She pressed her brush back onto the wooden surface of the tree, letting out a soft sigh. “I’ve been looking at a few places. My parents are pushing for Berkeley, but...” She trailed off, returning her focus to the blobs of green paint in front of her. She wasn’t prepared to delve into her personal problems with Connor; at least, not now.

“I don’t doubt it,” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m sort of mediocre when it comes to the tree-painting front? I’m aight on stage, though,” He shrugged, attempting to fix some dripping green paint with his thumb but only making it worse. “Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. “You’re already wiping the floor with me and I’ve been painting this for… What, two minutes? A minute and a half?”

She stifled a laugh, averting her eyes from his mishap to refocus on her work. “Where some are masters at acting, others are masters at painting fake leaves onto fake trees.” After a few more dabs of paint, she stepped back to survey her handiwork thus far, a small smile gracing her features. “We can learn from each other, you know?”

He looked at her for a few minutes, studying her expression before breaking into the first genuine smile he’d given all day. “Really?” He asked. “I mean– yeah, definitely,” He nodded. He was always down for pizza with a buddy, no matter how rotten his mood was. “And, uh, I’ll finish the tree. Don’t worry about it,” He reassured her quickly.

Was sacrificing her alone time worth seeing him smile? She supposed it was, though she would likely need a nap afterwards. With a small smile, she plucked a brush out of the paint can. “I’ll have you know, I can wipe the floor with you when it comes to leaf detail.” She shrugged a shoulder, moving to begin dabbing paint on the wooden tree.

“Uh,” He paused, shrugging his shoulders and moving to pick up a paintbrush. “Nothin’,” He responded casually, waving a dismissive hand as he accented the detail on a leaf. He knew why she was asking– should’ve went with Mona Lisa. “I think I might’ve just got a bad night’s sleep. You ever sleep too much and feel even more tired?” He asked with a laugh, attempting to change the subject.

Though her suspicions still lingered, she wasn’t one for prying. “Sure.” She silently watched him paint for a few moments, before breathing out a long sigh. “Look -- I was going to go get some pizza after rehearsal, and it might be more enjoyable with a buddy.” That was a lie. “You wanna come along?”

“C’mon, man. The play’s in mid November,” He said. He had to admit– he did sort of have a lot going on right now, especially with being cast as the lead at nearly the same time as his exposure and a pretty intense breakup. He supposed that was the universe’s way of balancing out the good and the bad in his life. “Y’know what? Nevermind, you’re right. Sorry, Ramona.”

The use of her actual name was an immediate hint that something was not right. Not Mona Lisa, Rambo, Rome... just Ramona. Her brows furrowed, arms uncrossing to drop to her sides. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m stretching my legs,” He countered, before deciding that it probably wasn’t a good idea to dick around– not in front of Ramona, anyway. Whatever– he was getting into character. “I’m, uh… Waiting for the base coat of green to dry before I get on the detail, ja feel?” He explained, standing up and motioning to the set piece in front of him before turning to her. “Hm. Did you do something different with your hair?”

Sometimes, she couldn’t understand how she was friends with this kid. “While you were waiting for that to dry, you could have been helping out with costumes,” she replied, arms crossing over her chest. “And no. Paint the tree, Connor.”