There was a thing, when it came to Eloise and feelings.
She knew that she had them. And she knew that generally, they were simple -- the same kinds of feelings anyone might have, and therefore easily explained, easily considered. But somehow that just wasn't true.
Being happy or sad was easy: like light or dark. But Ellie herself tended toward shadow, some variant in between that she never totally strayed from. And then there was everything in between...? She could have told Evan she wouldn't mind spending time here, either, or that it would definitely be nice. She just... didn't.
Let me show you, Evan was saying now. She nodded, thinking that that would definitely also be nice. "Okay," Ellie told him quietly, still half in whisper. "I think I could draw how I feel."
He was flipping through the sketchbook. Eloise paid close attention to nearly all of it, and after the first few pages it was like watching some sort of unmoving film, a novel in pictures, and she found herself thinking about what it could mean. Nothing definitive, or judgmental -- mainly she was wondering about Evan, which was easier to do through images.
But then there was... One image in particular. There was nothing outwardly special about it, apart from the woman's beauty, or perhaps Evan's talent in capturing her beauty. Really it was like any other picture he had drawn: simply one in an unintentional sequence. But still Ellie paused, as if to consider it.
Then she looked at Evan, smiling again, and touched the sketch as she had the balloons. "So pretty."