#lenayener

character — @lenayener

It had been far too long since he'd stumbled past the threshold of the gallery that was far too fine for his tattooed and leather presence. Without fail, onlookers took an interest in him being there, their wandering eyes always finding him rather than the art streamlined along every wall. Despite the attention, he put his focus into the pieces that captured his own attention. Seeing as it'd been awhile, none of them were familiar to the tattoo artist. Max stood in silence as he drank up the details of a particular piece. Realism had been a favorite of his father, the man having worked hard to create the perfect display for those willing to commission from him. A breath bobbed in his throat as he trailed over the line work, his heart sinking a bit at how familiar it seemed. After a few lingering minutes, he forced himself to move on, not even allowing for an over the shoulder glance as he turned for the next room where a female stood within. "What do you think about it?" His voice echoed quietly off the walls, his dark hues bouncing from the painting and down to the woman who'd seemed captivated by it. "I'm sorry to bother," he added in a nonchalant tone. "Sometimes I forget that some people come here to escape from conversation." He wasn't one of those people though. When it came to art, he'd speak freely as if he weren't a man who had lived most of his life in silence. "But... if by some chance you don't mind, I'd give my take on it too. It's only fair, right?"

character — @lenayener

He bobbed and he weaved through various vendor booths, each othering different products to appeal to virtually everyone. He'd sipped on wines, tried a variation of liquors, and had snacked on more samples of fudge than he'd ever had in his entire life. The downtown area was even more full of life than it usually was and while it caused hope to bloom in his chest, there were still too many factors that left him wondering what would happen next. The overthinking was paused by a street artist working on what seemed to be a sketch of the downtown area itself. It was beautifully done, every line perfectly placed on the canvas in a way he admired. "It's crazy," he hummed, more so to himself before he realized another had stopped to take a look at what was being drawn. "That's the kind of art I like. The real stuff. The line work and the focus... makes me feel like an amatuer."

status: closed for @lenayener

It had became a bit of a routine, on the days before the dinner rush really set it, when he trusted the rest of the kitchen staff to be prepped enough, to head out into the main restaurant floor. There were a few regulars he had known by name now, who talked to him about recipes and how they enjoyed the food, where Albie told him he just cooked it, it was all really Emmy’s brainchild. But even so, it was nice to see people in a busy place, a successful place, happy and satisfied with their food and service. He was doing his regular rounds at the tables, stopping at one where he couldn’t quite peg the face of the customer. “Hey there,” He said in greeting, “I hope your day here at Amelie’s has been pleasant so far. I’m Albert Torres, the chef, so if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”