[misha & jude: the capital]
[Misha, he was wandering. He'd been out near to an hour, and his feet hadn't been headed anywhere real defined. He'd popped into a cafe, and he'd stopped and talked some with actors on the green nearest to the community theater, and he reckoned it was 'bout time for him to be meeting Jude. Damian, he reckoned, was off somewhere in a suit, and Misha looked on up once, as if he could see the tall rooftops from where he was striding 'cross a busy street with a walk sign lit up green and neon. Course, he could feel where Damian was, but he didn't let himself do that. Instead, he just wondered 'bout the other boy and fretted some, and he kept on walking.
He'd been to the museum here a few times, but Misha wasn't so fond of art. It was too still for him, even when the colors were vibrant and seemed like they had movement to them. Oliver's paintings, back when he'd watched the other boy work, had seemed more alive than the ones hanging carefully on the museum walls, but that was on account of Oliver. It had been 'bout fingers on the brush and the concentration in eyebrows. And, he hadn't seen Damian bent over his easel in a real long time, but he could remember the line of the other boy's jaw when he concentrated, and that was what was beautiful 'bout art to Misha. It was 'bout that boy, dark skin and darker hair, bent and focused as he worked. He reckoned he should surprise Damian with some art things, but that would take some actual working. He had the job waiting at the gas station, and he reckoned he could do some shows. Even local, peep shows paid real well near the Red Light.
His thoughts wandered and tangled 'round each other and came on back to his worry for the boy on the rooftops. And, then, 'fore he even expected it, he was on them steps and trying to find Jude 'midst ambling folks and loiterers. Misha, he stood out some. He was dressed in loose jeans that sagged just past the waistband of pink boxers, and he wore a henley that matched, 'long with scuffed pink Converse. His fiddle was in a worn leather bag and strapped 'gainst his back, and he held onto the straps crossing shoulder to hip as he walked. And, Jude, he wasn't real hard to find, even without any use of Grace. Misha walked on up to the boy, and he smiled warm and only some distracted, as if there wasn't a thing odd 'bout seeing this man without Oliver present.] You been waiting long? I lost track of time some.