🥊 𝚃𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙾𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙴. — vi & atticus [ closed starter 4 @outlcws ]
Pacing leisurely around the shop, Vi had been idling in last minute cancellation bliss for several minutes now – ridden of the guilt of occupying the space another patron could have fulfilled purely because she’d paid beyond the threshold of in-full to justify her presence’s value as a trade of worthwhile compensation. Her original plans to be on the receiving end had been thwarted less than an hour ago when she’d overstepped a gutter to briskly and earned a new open wound in return, rendering previous ideas of indulgence utterly unpalatable. Thumbing the outer edge of the waterproof square bandaged across her elbow, a shallow red line split across the skin beneath like a lightning bolt, Vi wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "I think this is a sign from Satan that I gotta get into art collecting, like, physically. Something a wall or easel can hold,” she mused aloud, inclined towards problem solving in lieu of complaining. "You wanna take the first spot?” Her gaze lifted for emphasis, darting between Atticus’ hands and expression, uncertain what his reception would be at the loosely deliberated proposal. Equal parts serious and teasing. “I dunno if a single frame could do the job. I mean, Solstice is fucking gnarly." A grimace curled at Vi’s lips, plagued by involuntary thoughts of the place she called home: streaky water stairs, peeling paint, mystery progressive discoloration which spread during summer and froze in winter; her emotional support fraying carpet, unspooling at the divide between living room doorjamb and kitchenette yellowed linoleum. Introducing art into the mismatched space would be like slapping a bandaid on a bullet round. All major damages had preceded her arrival and continued in their gradual downward spiral like some immortal organism. Each quirk was oddly charming to Vi, yet heavily protected from eyes beyond her own. There was a reason she opted to hangout where he already was (be that workplace or residence) rather than let him suffer the dilapidated state of her own apartment. "A mural, now there's an idea..." Surely a canvas, skin, and dry wall shared some commonalities in texture and form. "How long would that take, hypothetically?"
