"You look anything but a boring landscaper, my dear," he shook his head, flashing his teeth in a smile. He tilted his head slightly, thoughtfully to one side, and held his hands out in front of him, fingers framing her in a little square shape as if he were going to take a picture of her. "Quite the contrary. I think the artist bit rather suits you."
When she asked him about being a writer, he smirked, leaning forward on the table thoughtfully. "Well... I am a writer first, yes. Tried my hand at writing novels for a while, but it didn't really catch on... That was before my journalism career really got going. I am working on a new novel now that ties into that career, but I've never thought of myself as 'just a journalist.' I can understand the misunderstanding - there are quite a few blokes out there who aren't very creative with their stories. But me, I like to put some of myself in my writing; give it my own little spark of life and really capture the essence of what I'm writing about." His smile turned slightly bittersweet. "Otherwise, it is just a load of rubbish."
As if in answer to her thoughts, finally, the waiter returned to get their orders. Graham let her order first, before he ordered himself - a lemon chicken plate that sounded good.
[ OOC: I'm so, SO sorry it took so long to get back to you! I suck. If you want to wrap this up, or not continue it, I'll totally understand! ]