Dean Thomas (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} artistdean) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} finnigans_rpg, |
Usually after Battlescars Dean would hang around and eat a roast from the pub, or be visiting his parents' house for lunch. Neither of those was something he wanted to do in that moment so he'd apparated home. Of course upon arriving he'd just felt a bit trapped. He'd spent too much time moping around his flat recently and it was time to do something about that. In deference to his stomach he made a couple of slices of jam on toast, put them face to face, wrapped them in kitchen roll and apparated with them to his studio. It was time to make preparations for his project.
He unwrapped the toast, peeled the slices apart and stuck one in his mouth as he walked around assessing the various abstract pieces he'd produced in the last week or so that were in a variety of stages of drying. There was nothing figurative about them, or even anything that had a basis in any actual objects. Just a lot of swirls and swipes of paint. He liked them but they were vastly unlike his usual work and he wasn't sure how they'd end up going down. He reached out to test the paint with his clean hand and was surprised to hear the sound of apparition.
He spun around, seeing Seamus immediately, the toast drooping dangerously in his hand as his grip loosened in shock. He hadn't expected him here.
Maybe that's why he'd come here, not feeling cooped up, but the expectation that Seamus wouldn't look here first. Not that he'd ever think to ward him out of here, so it made little difference.
"Umm, hi," he said uncertainly after several long seconds of silence. His hand tightened again and his toast didn't end up on the floor or down his front.