Rebekah MacKenzie (beckathesweet) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2012-08-27 12:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | day three, kyle, kyle and rebekah, rebekah |
Let's get creative!
Characters: Kyle and Becka
Setting: Cafeteria, morning
Becka was beyond excited about seeing what of her requests had been filled, though she was assuming that with Kyle’s request for art supplies, that her request for same must have been filled. With the excitement, it was not difficult for her to take a quick shower, dressing even quicker, leaving her hair down in damp curls. Which reminded her that she’d wanted to ask for a hair dryer. Oh well, next time! She made it down to the cafeteria with five of the twenty minutes to spare, taking the elevator down since it was the most direct route, and she couldn’t help the little squee of excitement at the boxes that were there for her and Kyle. And then she realized that they were specifically labeled for her and Kyle. It implied a lot, but she would wait for Kyle to get there to start opening the boxes.
Kyle wasn’t far behind her, though he had stopped on the way to brew a couple of mugs of coffee before heading into the cafeteria. He had already fixed his own - strong, black, a large amount of sugar - but he’d grabbed some creamer and sugar for Becka, not knowing how she would like hers.
He was glad to see that he wouldn’t have to play a game of ‘guess the girl’ when he walked in - the blonde was a give away, being that (a) she was the only person there and (b) she was sat next to a large box, looking excited. “So, you’re Becka. I’m Kyle. I have coffee and should we see what Santa brought then?” he suggested with a wide smile, offering her a mug.
Becka glanced over when a guy walked in, nodding at the observation, not at all surprised to hear that he was Kyle. While she wasn’t much of a coffee drinker normally, she didn’t mind a mug now and then, and she smiled gratefully when he offered her one. “Thank you! And ooh, you even brought cream and sugar,” she noticed with a little laugh. With another glance at the boxes as she doctored her coffee, her smile only dimmed minutely. “Somehow, I don’t think Santa brought what I wanted most, but that’s all right. I’ll be thrilled with whatever’s in those boxes, I’m sure.” She took a drink of the coffee before setting the mug on the table so that she could give the boxes her undivided attention for the moment. “Would you like to do the honors?” she asked with a little dramatic flair.
Kyle brought out his room key and started in on the tape holding the first box closed as he spoke. “And what did you want Santa to bring you most?” he asked her, intrigued. He had only asked for the one thing. Well, multiple items, but all on the theme and with the inclusion of a variety of options, dependent upon how they were willing to let things go. As long as he ended up with items that would allow for some kind of genuine artistic expression, he would be content for now. Otherwise, he was just going to go raiding the kitchen for food dye.
Becka watched, bouncing on her feet a bit, as Kyle sliced through the tape on one of the boxes. “Oh, this quilt from home that I made with my Grandma when I was a kid,” she answered with a small smile. “It was a longshot, but I can’t think of anything I want more here since I’m assuming we won’t be allowed visitors,” she explained. And she was still hoping that it might be in one of those boxes, even if she was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be. “What’s in that one?” she asked, wanting him to hurry up with that tape so they could see the contents. Once they went through that box, she’d go ahead and open one of the others.
“Huh - that’s a very specific type of a request. Where are your family?” he asked her as he peeled back the flaps of the first box. Inside were slotted a number of canvases of varying sizes, all plain. Kyle brought one of them out. “Nice - properly stretched, good quality,” he assessed, handing it over to Becka.
Shrugging slightly and looking down, Becka said, “Yes, I know, but I was only in for ten weeks before they moved me here, and there wasn’t a day gone by that someone in my family visited. It’s hard, harder than I thought even after only two days. Minneapolis; we’re all up there. Well, my mom still has distant family in Mississippi, but almost everyone’s up in Minnesota,” she over explained. It was a fault, she supposed, the over-sharing. She took the canvas, grinning faintly. “I wouldn’t know good quality, so I’ll take your word for it. I wonder if this means they don’t want us painting on the walls,” she wondered out loud.
“I’d say that maybe where we are is far enough from Minnesota that they hadn’t been able to get your blanket for you yet - but that would suppose that I had any clue at all where we might be. BUt, I’ll say it anyway - maybe they’re going to get it for you, but it’s just going to take a little bit of time,” he suggested, putting the canvas to one side and looking into the box to see if there was anything else in there. There wasn’t - it was simply a box full of canvases.
He pushed it to one side and reached for the next. It was heavy and a little unwieldy. “Maybe they don’t - I suggested canvases if they didn’t want me to start painting murals,” he told her, sliding his key along the tape line on that one to open it up. He looked across at her. “You want the honours of looking in this one first?” he asked.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Becka said, tilting her head as she considered it. “I have no idea where we are, but it’s totally possible that it would have taken them longer than half a day.” So maybe she shouldn’t stomp out the hope that her quilt might come. She did feel a bit better about it all, and she smiled at Kyle in a silent thanks.
Becka carefully put the canvas back in the box, laughing at his admission. “I asked for canvases, too, if they didn’t want us painting on the walls. Looks like our requests in this area were pretty similar,” she observed, amused. Which explained why the boxes were addressed to the both of them. He got to the next box before her, but she wasn’t bothered by it, and she smiled, nodding. “Yes!” She pulled open the tabs of the box, eyes widening a bit at the bulk and variety of paints stacked inside the box. “Wow! They really did go all out, huh?” she said as she lifted a medium sized can of paint that had a sky blue dot on the top out of the box. “This is probably gonna be a heavy box.”
Kyle was already opening the next box, now definitely into seeing exactly what they’d been given, since it did seem that everything he had asked for was going to be provided. Sure, before he’d hoped, but there was nothing like actual evidence. “Oh - look, oils!” he said, gleefully, pulling out a smaller box containing a veritable rainbow of small tubes. He put them to one side as he reached in and brought out a sheath of fine artist’s brushes. He ran his fingers almost lovingly through the bristles. It had been so long - too long - since he’d felt anything like this.
Looking over at Becka, he nodded, a strange sad/happy look on his face. “Yeah - looks like that box’ll be heavy. Is it all paints?” he asked, making himself stay with the conversation.
Becka laughed at the gleeful note to Kyle’s voice as she glanced over at the small box of tubes he’d pulled out of the box. “That’s great!” she said, though she wouldn’t have any idea how to use them properly. Maybe she’d have him teach her a few artsy things. She was determined to find many things to fill her days with here, having never been a fan of monotony. “Hmm, oh! No, look here,” she said, lifting a folded tarp she hadn’t noticed right away out of the box and spotting a stack of paint pans. “I’m betting one of these boxes will have roll brushes and stuff like that, so maybe they aren’t worried about us painting the walls.”
“Nice to know that we have options,” Kyle said, still absently stroking one of the brush heads. These were quality, he could tell that just by the feel. They seemed to have gone all out. Yes, things were definitely an improvement here. “Which leaves us with the question of how we’re going to do this,” he mused, looking over at her.
Becka bit her lip, looking at all the boxes of supplies. “Goodness, I don’t know! I guess the first thing to figure out is where we should store everything? I mean, it’s not like our individual rooms are designed to leave much space for things like all this.” They could keep a few things in their rooms, of course, but there was so much.
That wasn’t quite what Kyle had meant, but he dealt with that point first. “I’d say the large pots of paint and the rollers, as well as the tarps should all go in the tool shed. There should be space in there, if it’s organised properly.” He had spent quite a lot of time in the tools shed, though there was little of the equipment he would have wanted - not that that was a surprise. This facility was hardly geared towards hardcore metalwork, after all. “The canvases we can put in the activity room. The oils too. The fine brushes...” He sighed. “-Should go in there was well,” he added, reluctantly. “But, what I meant is - I know I can work with what we have here. And I already have plans for my own room. I’m definitely helping you with whatever you want, because without you I’m sure we wouldn’t have all of this. I promised to do something for Adam, because - well, I promised. But everyone else... Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely no problem with doing the work. But I really do feel that, if I - and you if that’s your intention - are going to be labouring for other people, then it wouldn’t be off for us to expect something in return.” What, he wasn’t sure. He certainly wasn’t going to be suggesting anything underhand. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t want to be taken for granted either. If they were meant to be establishing a community here, then there was nothing wrong with some sort of a barter system for their skills and time.
Becka’s cheeks flushed faintly, automatically when Kyle mentioned the tool shed, her mind jumping to the night before and how she’d hidden in there with Adam, but she pushed those thoughts away, forcing herself to focus on the conversation at hand. “I do think the tool shed should work for that stuff, yeah,” she agreed. And they should be able to get everything over there without too much difficulty, especially if they got some help, and she didn’t think Adam would be against helping. She noticed the way he sighed at the mention of putting the fine brushes in the activity room, and she bit her lip briefly. “No, you should keep them with you. Or at least some of them, that way you can make sure you’ll always have a set that are properly taken care of,” she pointed out. While she did try to remain optimistic, she knew that not everyone knew how to properly care for art supplies, remembering the art elective she’d taken in high school.
“Oh!” she said, surprised when he explained what he’d actually meant. She hadn’t even thought of it all that way, didn’t really consider that everyone else wouldn’t chip in with wherever their strengths were. “No, you’re right. There’s nothing wrong with expecting something in return. I know that Carmel already does a lot, with the cooking and whatnot and well, Cal’s a doctor, but I’m really not sure what anyone else has to offer in the way of usable skills around here.” It didn’t even occur to her that what they might seek in return wouldn’t be useful for the community as a whole.
“Maybe we should find that out then,” Kyle suggested. “And right - the doc I will do whatever he wants, in all honesty. If something goes wrong, I want him there. So he’s a given, nothing else asked for. Carmel - I saw she put a note on the journals about that and that’s great. Again, in my book, that would qualify as something back. I’m not talking about huge things. I just would like everything to balance out. It’s not fair if half this place is giving and the rest are just sitting back and taking.”
Becka grinned faintly when Kyle said he’d do whatever Cal wanted since he was a doctor. “I’m a nurse,” she pointed out. Which meant that she was more accustomed to doing the tedious work the doctor’s were too educated to do, but she didn’t have the cynical outlook on it that a lot of nurses did. They worked together as a team, and she hoped that her and Cal might be able to get along and establish some kind of rhythm in all that. “But no, it isn’t fair if it goes that way. Perhaps a few of us should call a community meeting or something of the sort. If anyone doesn’t come, it would be pretty telling as to whether or not they intend to contribute,” she pointed out.
“I like that idea,” Kyle told her, with regards to a community meeting. “I think that would be a plan. Maybe, ahead of that, we should ask people to declare their skills over the journal system. It might be easier for people, rather than sitting in a circle and everyone trying to talk all at once. We could find out what people can do, then we could have the meeting. Hell, if nothing else it would let people get to know each other. You’re only like the fourth person I’ve met.” He shook his head at that: he needed to get out more. “And a nurse. Wow. I could never do that. I’m not too hot with the sight of blood.”
Becka smiled widely when her idea was received positively, and she nodded along with his suggestions and reasoning. “Yeah, that would help, I think, though Carmel did try to get people to volunteer for clean up on the journals already, but a more specific ‘what are your skills’ type of thing so we can organize things would be good.” So maybe once they got the paints and such put away, they could work on figuring out just how to word things and get it all sorted out and set up. “It’s... I have to admit, it’s a little easier to interact with certain people on the journals. I mean, from the names in the questionnaires, I’d only heard of a few people before. But everyone I’ve met in person have been nice enough.” She knew that she’d interacted with Dominic some on the journals, even if every time she’d seen a comment from him it had twisted her stomach in knots. She hadn’t interacted with Megan at all, though, and she could admit that she was very anxious about the possibility of meeting them both. She laughed at the comment about blood. “Yeah, some people can’t hack it, but I grew up with three brothers, so I wasn’t a stranger to blood and ick. It doesn’t even phase me now.”
“Same here - but from what I’ve seen on the journals, I’m not sure that’s going to hold true. I’m trying not to prejudge though,” Kyle told her, a little sheepishly. He knew he could be judgemental at times. “Okay - well, look. You come across as a really sweet, lovely person. I’m... not so much. So I’m gonna nominate you to put forward the journal post suggestion of skills. I’m certain you’ll handle it far better than I could. And in return, I’ll paint you something really special in a style, or of a subject of your choice.”
Becka nodded in understanding that he was trying not to prejudge. It wasn’t always easy, but she tried hard not to prejudge as well. She almost thanked him for the compliment, but as he continued talking, she wasn’t so sure it was actually a compliment anymore. “You seem nice enough to me,” she disagreed lightly. He certainly hadn’t been rude, unless she’d missed some cue or another; it wouldn’t be the first time. “I can do that, though. But, I was hoping to be able to do most of the painting in my room. It’ll be more satisfying that way,” she said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t mind getting some artsy tips from you, though, and some help. Or if you wanted to paint a canvas for me, I wouldn’t say no to that.” And she just wasn’t the type to only do something if she was going to get something personally in return.
Kyle held his hands up. “Just an offer - if you don’t want to take me up on it, then I’m not gonna force you too. It would just seem a little hypocritical to me for me to suggest you do something to stop people getting something for nothing and then not offer anything in return. All things considered. But, I’ll paint you something anyway.” He shrugged. “Trust me, it’s been so long that I’ll be working for days, whether anyone wants to see the results or not. As for your room, I’ll leave that to you and if you want help, you just have to ask.”
Becka just kept smiling, amused at the way he emphasized the whole thing again. “Oh, trust me, I’ll probably need your help! But, I mean, there’s not a whole lot to do here, so it would be fun to keep busy doing that, and it’s probably gonna take a while. And I’d probably still do things around here even if everyone wasn’t chipping in, it’s just who I am,” she admitted even though it probably wasn’t the wisest. “What kinds of things do you like painting?” she asked curiously as she started putting the few things they’d pulled out of the boxes back into them so they could move everything to where they’d be stored.
“Honestly? If I was out there, I’d say I couldn’t stand it at all,” he admitted. “It’s amazing how your view on things can change, isn’t it? A couple of years ago, I viewed paint as an archaic artform and sneered at those people who dedicated their lives to it. Right now, the most beautiful thing in my life is a paint brush.” He gestured with the brush he had been holding all along. “Right now, I want to paint my imagination. All those thoughts and feelings that I’ve had to keep locked up. Not reality - not what I see. What would I paint then? Four walls, the clouds passing in the sky above. A cage. No - I want to paint more than that. I want to paint freedom in all of its glory. The things we can no longer have.”
Becka smiled sympathetically as she listened to him. She couldn’t say she understood the concept completely, but in theory it made some sense. When you’re deprived of the things you love, even the things that you looked down your nose at seemed wonderful. She was going to say something, make some understanding comment, but then he was talking again, so she stayed quiet. “Painting freedom,” she repeated. “I’d love to see how that turns out.” What would freedom be on canvas? She imagined it would be something different for each of them. “Should we get the things to the tool shed that are going there, then get everything else upstairs?” she suggested, and thank God for the elevator, as she wasn’t fond of the idea of carrying a bunch of boxes upstairs.
Kyle stood, stretching a little. “That sounds like a great idea,” he agreed. They could get everything put away, and then he could get started. He looked at the paintbrush he was still holding, and then slipped it into his back pocket. He would do what she suggested. He would keep some for himself. But this one - this one he would use first. He could already see the images taking shape, the first sweep over that pristine, blank canvas. He couldn’t wait.