Ella B. Jasper (jaspering) wrote in _fracture_, @ 2014-02-06 18:24:00 |
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Entry tags: | chapter 1, ella, kyle, the regent hotel |
Who: Kyle and Ella
Where: Around the hotel
When: Around lunch time
Ella listened to some of her favorite songs on her iPhone for twenty minutes. She listened to forget where she was, to forget she had missed work and to wonder whether or not she was missed by her family. She couldn’t believe she had been plucked away from family so abruptly, but she was trying to make the best of it. Besides she had been arguing with them lately so some time apart could do a lot of good. A few minutes into her music marathon she heard a knock on the door and upon opening it realized it was lunch time. There was a cart outside her room with food on it and she wheeled it inside. It didn’t take her long to finish the tuna wrap, bottle of water and apple she had been provided.
Once listening to music grew tiresome she decided now was a good time to draw. Unfortunately as she rifled through her bag she didn’t see any newspapers. She would need them if she intended on sketching. The medium she loved using, charcoal, had a habit of staining surfaces if you weren’t careful and since she didn’t know who was paying for her stay at this hotel she wasn’t going to risk being charged for damages. She grabbed her room key and headed out in search of newspaper, taking her sketch pad and box of charcoal with her too. She hoped there was some available and that the lady at the front desk would be nice this time. She wasn’t in the mood for another rude encounter with her.
Kyle had decided to get out of his room - and to go somewhere that wasn’t just someone else’s room as well. He had ended up sitting in the lobby - not his intended destination but, given that he wasn’t exactly certain where he had been going when he started out, it would do. He was facing the exit, on one of the seats. He still was having a hard time rationalising it. He had walked through those doors, and into Monica’s bedroom. It made no sense at all. Urg, it made his head hurt. Life was easier when he ignored what was and wasn’t possible.
With an exasperated huff, he got to his feet and turned to leave, running straight into a girl coming the other way.
The minute Ella bumped into Kyle, she dropped her sketch pad and box of charcoal. “Holy crap! Be careful,” she said to him. As she gathered her belongings the first thing she did was make sure her charcoal was still good to use. She was happy to see none of the pieces had broken into small pieces. She didn’t mind working with small pieces of charcoal, but she preferred to determine their size, not leave such things to chance. The sizes of charcoal made a difference to her because they helped her work on different aspects of the various portraits she loved to draw.
Once she was done collecting her things she rose to her feet and asked, “Where’s the fire? Why are you in such a rush?” She tried not to snap at him, but from the tone of her voice it was obvious she was annoyed with him. She couldn’t help it. She wondered if this was how people said hello nowadays.
Kyle took a step back, holding his hands up. “Woah, calm down,” he snapped. “It was an accident - no need to be all bitch about it.” Some people just had no manners. “Sorry. Is your charcoal okay?” he asked, glancing at it. If it was broken, then maybe he’d be able to understand her annoyance - he would have been pissed at that - but it all looked okay from where he was.
“Yes, my charcoal is okay. I came down here looking for some newspaper so I can do some sketching and I didn’t expect to bump into someone in the process. You startled me and made me drop my things, so sorry I’m not more sympathetic to your plight of bumping into me,” she retorted sarcastically. She didn’t usually snap at people so easily, but he almost broke her charcoal and she didn’t take kindly to people messing with her art supplies, regardless of whether or not they did it accidentally or deliberately. She hugged her supplies tightly to her chest and put the box of charcoal in her jean pocket. She didn’t want to risk dropping them again. Once was fine, but twice would further piss her off.
Kyle looked at her archly. Sarcasm in the face of an apology. How nice. He gave her a tight smile. “Then I will remove myself from your way. Good luck with your search for newspaper. I suppose that you’ll be expecting everyone to be duly grateful that you’re looking to put that down before making a mess with your sketches,” he added, assuming that would be what she would want it for. He stepped out of her path and made to walk past her.
Ella’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like where this conversation was going, but she wasn’t going to back down just because she didn’t like what she was hearing. “I do believe there will be gratitude. I’m not one to make a mess of things and expect others to clean up after me. Are you?” she asked. She would’ve let him be on his merry way but she couldn’t let the conversation go just yet. She hadn’t expected to add fuel to the fire so quickly, but being in this hotel was making her feel hostile. She hoped cabin fever wasn’t creeping up on her because if it was then she was in trouble since there was no way out.
Kyle laughed. “God no,” he said, turning to face her again. “Charcoal is such a limited medium - I generally try and avoid it where I can.”
This comment piqued Ella’s curiosity. “You draw? What’s your preferred medium?” she asked. She didn’t expect Kyle to know anything about drawing. Most people she encountered on a daily basis weren’t artistically inclined. She usually had to answer many questions, which was fine at first but after a while it grew tiresome. Charcoal was her first love, but when she was low on supplies she didn’t mind using a pen or pencil. Love of the craft usually dictated when and where she drew.
I don't Kyle thought. Though that was a lie. He drew. He was an artist, even if he considered himself a failed one. Still, he absolutely refused to admit failure to... this girl. "I'm a sculptor," he said, with a tone of arrogance which was simply inbred.
"That's an entirely different beast then isn't it?" Ella hadn't expected this reply from him. By looks alone he didn't look very artistic to her, but then again his arrogance said otherwise. During her undergraduate years she had encountered her fair share of artists who thought they were better than everyone else and she couldn't help but wonder where he went to school. "Where'd you go to hone your skills?"
"Does it matter? Really?" Kyle asked though he figured it must to her. "I was accepted pretty much anywhere one may want to go," he told her - the truth, rather than exaggeration. "I chose the Art Students League, in New York."
"I'm just curious, was trying to make conversation. You seem to know a lot more than you're letting on," she replied, keeping her tone even and calm. Ella didn't want to accuse him of withholding information, especially since she didn't know him very well but she couldn't shake the feeling that he would rather be talking to someone else. She couldn't blame him for that if her thought process was accurate. She did come off as a bitch earlier, but she didn’t feel bad about that since she felt it was deserved in the moment. “I went to the University of Denver, wasn’t really in the mood to leave Colorado, even though I did have a chance to move to New York for school.”
Kyle laughed at the way the girl seemed to be insinuating that he should give her his entire life story just because. Still, his interest was piqued by the fact that she almost went to school in New York. “Why did you turn New York down? Which school?” he asked her, trying to judge her age. She didn’t looked a few years older than him, but that wasn’t saying much, given he was only twenty.
“There was a lot going on with my family back then and I wanted to be around just in case things took a turn for the worse,” she explained. Ella wasn’t going into details about her personal life. Besides she assumed he would think it was stupid that she was worried about her mother’s cancer scare. She didn’t feel comfortable divulging that piece of her past that may be construed as a moment of weakness.
“Pratt Institute in Brooklyn. I loved the idea of it and the adventures that were implied, but alas it wasn’t meant to be,” she finally answered. Ella glanced at her watch and noticed they were talking longer than anticipated. “Well, anyways thanks for the conversation. I didn’t mean to keep you. I’m sorry about that.” The tone of her voice was more genuine and remorseful, even though he had bugged her at first. She wanted to end this conversation now before it took a turn for the worst.
“Pratt - not bad, I looked at there,” he told her. He had chosen his own school on the basis of wanting to be somewhere he felt he would be entirely free. Unfortunately, it had all crashed and burned. Now he didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t going to admit to that though, and the girl was giving her farewells. “Sure,” he said. “Good luck with the newspaper.” As much as he wasn’t sure what to make of her, he had been raised to be reasonably polite - though his inner bitch did fairly easily come out to play.
“Thanks. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again...without actually bumping,” she said, trying to keep the conversation light. She walked over to the front desk and prayed this time the interaction would lead to her getting the newspaper she needed. She needed to relieve some stress and art was always the way for her.