Chris had hidden from people all his life, really. His family had been accustomed to him and how peculiarly he could behave sometimes, and others he could avoid. He'd spent countless hours in the swamps, either just enjoying the lack of other people or sketching; he had at least three thick sketchbooks completely filled with his impressions of swamp life. It seemed so simple to him, much simpler than actual living in a busy world was.
Where had she come from, he wondered, where politeness was unheard of? He was on the verge of asking, but then he decided not to, because who knew what she might tell him. From where would somebody who had wings and claws in their natural form originate? He just smiled and sipped his own coffee, which he'd sugared lightly in comparison to hers.
Chris had been doing very well, but her saucy words and her wink undid him again. His cheeks colored when she told him all he had to do was ask if he wanted her to model. Because something about her tone was almost... suggestive. "I, um..." he began, tucking his sleeve-covered hands beneath the edge of the table. "I wasn't thinking of... I mean--."
Great. Way to go. How old're you, twelve? He took a breath and tried again. "I gave it to you 'cause you seemed angry that I drew it."