#dsamain

Toulouse flipped slowly through his sketchbook, studying each drawing carefully. The subject was the same in all--her brown eyes shone up at him from the page. His finger traced the curve of her charcoal cheek. Maybe, he mused, maybe it was scary to have a writer fall in love with you, but it must be terrifying to have an artist fall in love with you. He turned the page, and smiled. This was his favorite drawing. Alice looked over her shoulder at him, the gentle curve of her spine shading her bare back. She was pulling on side of her dress up her shoulder so he could zip it in place. She had a playful half smile, and a not so innocent twinkle in her eye.

He sharpened his pencil and turned to another blank page. Sketching quickly, but carefully, he smiled as Alice's familiar form began to appear. She stood, hip cocked, her hand resting on it, her ring visible. He knew she would always, and forever, be his favorite subject. He loved her so much that it was never a chore to picture her, and transfer her to paper. Quite the opposite. She was his favorite. He sketched her lines, her messy hair and slim fingers. He soft lips, quirked into an easy smile. Her long legs and her toes. Every part of her that he could, he committed to memory.

Toulouse had never had a problem maintaining a stash. With his barely-there mother and his own bank account and income from his art, that was the easy part. The hard part was finding someone to actually smoke with. Meg usually was game, but she wasn't answering his texts. Alice wasn't as fond of weed as she was acid. He just felt like chillin' though, maybe eating some atrocity of a sandwich that looked like it came from an episode of "Scooby Doo". And to his knowledge, not too many people around here enjoyed grass. Maybe Tiger Lily, but she seemed to be a handsy one.

Toulouse tucked a fresh blunt in his pocket and set off to explore, looking for someone to smoke it with. There had to be someone who would. He wandered through the halls of the hotel, stopping occasionally to ask a friendly face if they would join them. However polite or rude their negative answer was, he just grinned and moved on. There would be someone willing somewhere along the line. Finally, though, Toulouse did run out of people to ask.

He plopped himself down on a bench out of the way, and rested his elbows on his knees while he thought. So he hadn’t made any new friends. He shrugged that off. He didn’t mind. He liked the friends he had.  And it was nice to share a joint, but he didn’t need to. He could always paint. Maybe he’d do that. Call room service, get high, and paint, since his roomie was out for the day.

Something small and white and familiarly furry nosed around the corner and up the hall to his foot. The little white rabbit stood up, little pink nose twitching as he looked at Toulouse. “Hey, Bubblebutt.” Toulouse greeted, scratching the small creature’s ears. “What’re you doing out?” Probably, Toulouse guessed, either Alice or Lilo got too excited going someplace and forgot to check the door, releasing their pet to the wilds of the Cambodian hotel. Toulouse scooped Alice’s friend up and set off to return him.