Re: Sam/Eames: art class
A lot of people modeled for the class, huh? Some people did it for the shit pay the university offered when they were hella desperate, but mostly not. Mostly it was either students wanting credit or students wanting the thrill of being naked in front of a bunch of people. Ok, yeah, sometimes it was like NON-students wanting the same thing, like someone had been dared or something. The most interesting ones were the old people, at least to Sam's thinking. You'd get them sometimes, huh? Really old and wrinkly people, and they sat there on the bench and totes relived the naked summer of their youths. Old people were fucking AWESOME because they didn't care. They totes no longer gave a shit what they looked like, and they usually talked and told stories and annoyed the fuck out of the sketchers that considered themselves SERIOUS BSNS.
This guy, the one that stopped in front of her all dressed now, he wasn't an old people.
She tipped her head up to look at him. Not defiant or anything like that, but there was something of warning to the little blonde holding the charcoal. She wasn't comfortable around men very much, but gone was the girl that shied the fuck away on sidewalks and in crowded places. Nah, Sam, now she looked her fears in the face. Not that she was scared, because she could totes tear his throat out before he had a chance to move. Nah, not fear, but there was something that said this was a guarded bitch in bubblegum blonde and don't come too close.
She smiled. "Yeah," she said without any fucking need to say she wasn't. "I'm good." Her paintings had sold for thousands at her show. Yeah, she was fine saying she was good. She glanced at the sketch that would soon become a painting. "Got a suggestion for a name? It's your eyeball or whatever. I'm not big on naming them, but galleries want names, or numbers, or something like that. So, yeah. Eyeball?"