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Dean Thomas (artistdean) wrote in finnigans_rpg,

Dean had just picked up a pot of green paint, not having registered Seamus arriving, and was peering down into it. He jumped and spun around to face the sofa, the paint jumping in the pot and a blob splatting onto his nose.

"Crap on a cracker, Seamus," he said trying to frown down at his nose, crossing his eyes. There were so few people allowed to apparate straight into this space he didn't really feel under attack, just surprised.

"And yeah, it's going well. I was waiting for the windowsill to dry a bit," he said, putting the pot back down and waving at the painting he was working on. "So, you know, music, and er, dancing... did you say evening?" he asked, his brain catching up with the actual words Seamus had said. He looked out of the window and winced at the slightly fading light. The lighting in the studio automatically adjusted to the light of the day, but it hadn't kicked in yet.