Re: Train tracks: Oliver & Gwen
This one was strange. Strange in the way that she held her fingers close to her face, the way that she inspected the colorful smears of chalk like they were some alien mystery. It was that strangeness that left Oliver staring at her. It was staring like he hadn't really seen her until now, hadn't noticed her in the way that he noticed more interesting things. But, in that moment, she became interesting.
"I'm not… creating anything," and his words cramped together, small and uncertain when he glanced back down to the railroad flower bed. He'd wanted flowers, and so yes, he'd made flowers… drawn them to life, sure… but that wasn't the same thing as creating. Oliver wasn't really sure about the difference, but he knew that this wasn't creation. This wasn't art, it was sidewalk chalk and spare time. This wasn't a cultural statement or a museum. This was an abandoned train station and a whole lot of too much time on his hands. Again, Oliver felt his heart flex with embarrassment.
"I don't care if it goes away tonight, I just wanted to see it today." It was a waste of time, a waste of talent. This was precisely the kind of thing that Oliver would have been punished for, back in the days of the lost boy home. It wasn't a good exploration of his abilities, it was nothing... and now, looking down again with blue eyes just a little more narrow and his mouth in a frown, yeah… Oliver saw nothing.
"Oliver." He muttered his name when the girl asked, but the word was aimed downward at the traintrack flowers, and he was contemplating the vast, but obvious nature of his failures.