Steven Rogers (
juststeverogers) wrote2015-11-08 01:49 pm
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Entry tags:
The First Commission (Open, tagging Verity)
Steve has had some time to adjust to his new life in the Nexus. His suit he arrived in is hanging neatly on the front door to his hotel room, which sways when he pulls the door open to welcome his first official guest to his temporary home.
Aside from the art supplies taking up the large workdesk (covered in newspaper, he's careful not to mess up the nice furniture in this place) the room is rather well kept.
"Come on in, I've got it all ready to go."
Aside from the art supplies taking up the large workdesk (covered in newspaper, he's careful not to mess up the nice furniture in this place) the room is rather well kept.
"Come on in, I've got it all ready to go."
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"My sketchbook's over by the bed." He points to the brown covered notepad on the far table. "You can look through it if you want." It's got more in it than the last time Verity saw it. A sketch of an undead man with a huge smile and unattached hands. A sketch of Verity drinking a cup of coffee, staring out the window of the diner.
And more sketches of his home. Of his mother. Of Bucky. But there's new people too, and that's important to Steve. He has more people to draw, now.
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Good technique. A realistic, almost formalist style, but there's a spark of life to them, too. Capturing not just what something looks like, but what it feels like. Verity's right, Steve, you are a worlds-class artist.
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"When did you draw this? Do I really look like that?" It's not criticism. She's never considered herself to be attractive and is surprised he'd want to draw her. She suspects Steve was being generous with the depiction.
This is not a bad surprise.
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"A few days ago." Steve admits, ducking his head. "I don't think I got it quite right." And before Verity can sell herself short, Steve's talking again. "You always look like you're waiting for something. And despite it, you're so caring to everyone around you. I got the first part, but not the second. Not good enough." Samus will get it, Steve knows.
Verity doesn't see herself entirely. But most people don't, so she's not alone there. Steve certainly doesn't see all of himself.
"I'll have to keep trying."
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*She gives Verity a sidelong glance.*
Somehow, I don't think you'll have any problems getting your model.
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"Well, I know I don't dare skip brushing my hair anymore if you're going to be sneaky." It's easier to make the joke than to admit to the feels. She knows who she's waiting for in that picture.
And she knows he isn't coming.
"I'm not. I mean. If you want me to." But she'd be super embarrassed about it until she got used to being looked at that much.
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He's never had the luxury outside of classes to have someone sit around and pose for him. He's learned to adapt.
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"You must have an amazing memory," she agrees quietly. "Have you started the other painting we talked about?"
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Steve rubs at his bangs and shakes his head before a coughing fit sinks him back down into his blanket for a moment or two.
"N-no. I haven't. Sorry..."
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Seems like the housekeeper is done in the bathroom and is moving on to the bedding, if Samus wants to start with the sterilights?
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"I remember you helping me come up with a lotta stuff, but..then things got kinda heavy."
Cough, cough. Someone's just so tired of being sick and miserable and bleh. Thinking about the diner just makes him sink deeper into the chair and blanket.
Committing Germicide
She's got to learn better ways to phrase things.
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He flips through his sketchbook, staring down at the pages listlessly while he sinks deep into thought.
Sounds like quitter's talk, ya punk. You giving up that easy?
"I haven't given it much thought since the party." Steve starts again abruptly, shutting his sketchbook and twisting to meet Verity's gaze. "What did you say he liked?"
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*Die, germs, die!*
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Verity won't press. While he's quiet she is too, helping the housekeeper make the bed and getting it ready for Steve. Those pillows are being fluffed with love.
"He likes bright colors. Not neon bright, but... rich. Intense colors. And intricate patterns. He would love the peony you painted for me. He might try and fight me for it." That's a joke, Steve. Please, give her a sympathy laugh. "You know those Dutch still lifes? He likes that sort of thing. But maybe, you'd been thinking autumnal, a big vase of branches with different color leaves instead of flowers? Or is that silly?"
She's quite nervous that it's a very silly idea, and that it's rude to even make suggestions.
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"...Mm ah!" He bolts upright and nearly falls out of the chair scrambling for a pencil. His sketchbook goes toppling to the floor along with the blanket.
"What if I had them coming out of a carved pumpkin?"
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She can't fight the instinct to pick up behind him; when he comes back to his chair she's got his sketchbook and blanket waiting. "Maybe having to relax for a few days isn't so bad?"
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...Promptly interrupted by another coughing fit that turns into very weak wheezing.
He's trying, bless him.
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Steve, is the air in here too dry for you?
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Followup question: "Do you need your inhaler?"
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"I..." Steve clears his throat after a minute. "Felt like things were starting to loosen a bit, but then it just started dripping and irritating my throat. Guess I overdid it."
Aww man, he needs to sit back down. He feels like he just ran up a flight of stairs. Which is a lot, for him.
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Soooo Harrowheart kind of wants to set these two up now...
Harrowheart is the Ultimate Shipper
He's going to have a bad time with that.