Re: Sam/Eames: art class
Sam didn't remember her dreams. She'd had a hella lot of nightmares once, but she didn't have those anymore, and she didn't dream now. Maybe her brain wouldn't or whatever, since she was pretty fucking sure that sleep was kinda just like breathing or eating food, huh? Shit she didn't need anymore, but that her body kinda did out of habit. She'd gone three days without sleeping once, and she hadn't been like tired or anything, but she hadn't liked how inhuman it made her feel and so she hadn't done that shit again. Nah, now she slept, but she never remembered dreaming or anything, which was a welcome fucking change from waking up the whole house screaming, huh??
"Canals. That's what he did. You should look his ass up sometime. He's hella popular." Which was true, and Sam wasn't the type to like INSULT other other artists, but she just didn't feel Algernon's shit. She liked realism and people drawn gritty. She didn't like that prettified shit that played into media and popularity. Nah, not her shit, just like canals weren't her shit. "Degas. What kinda native girls?" Sam wasn't hella PC, so he wasn't like on shaky ground or anything.
She gave him a LOOK. "Yeah, I told you to name it, but I didn't tell you to phone it in and half-ass it, huh?" Algernon wasn't a real name, and they both fucking knew it. He'd admitted it. And, yeah, so she rolled her eyes when he said that thing about the chair. "You get to decide how vain you are. I just care about how vain your eyeball is," she assured him with a grin, and more liver spots appeared and were carefully smudged into skin. "I absolutely recommend my shit, and that isn't vanity, it's just truth. You better have some thou to throw down though." She glanced at the eye again. "Murphy, huh?" At least he had a REASON for Murphy. "I seen your names on the town forums. F Eames, yeah? Unless there's another Eames in like a 100 mile radius, which maybe, but I fucking doubt it." She leaned back a little. "Yeah, ok, Murphy."