Tensor

Piotr was still pretty certain this wasn't the best idea ever. He'd drawn nude pictures before, yes, it was part of getting anatomy down, and he'd taken art classes that even had a live model, but that was in a class. With a model he didn't know, and it was easy to think of just the aesthetics, of just drawing.

This was a bedroom. With one of his closest friends, and no one else in the room. It just seemed - different. And yes, Piotr knew that in all liklihood, once he got started on the drawing, he would be able to focus completely and just think of the art - that was one reason why he drew, it allowed him to clear his mind and think of nothing but getting the images out on paper - but right now, and until then, he was kind of nervous.

And he was refusing to think of after.

He'd bundled his art supplies under his arm, and he knocked with his free hand when he got to Anna's room. "It's me, Anna," he called in.

Afternoon

Shinobi had no classes after his morning Chinese history and had been feeling a little pent up, a little needy for human contact. It was past school hours, so he was dressed in a plain dark blue kimono with the sleeves tied back, short jika tabi, and a pair of close-fitting shorts in case any wise guys decided they had to see if he was wearing pants.

He stood in the common area of the first floor of Castle Hall at a table, wearing plastic gloves, making hand molded onigiri. Already there were several long plates of them, some with plain rice, some sprinkled with sesame seeds or shredded toasted seaweed. They were for everyone. Shin thought his fellow students might like an afternoon snack that wasn't chips or candy bars, and if not, he would wrap them and fry them up later for himself. The fillings were mostly tuned to the American palate, with tuna salad or salted salmon, but there were a few with a mix of Japanese pickled vegetables (with just a touch of umeboshi) or salmon roe.

Since he was not a Japanese housewife making a bento, he didn't cut the seaweed into little shapes or make faces on his onigiri (though he remembered fondly how his own mother had often done so), but took pleasure from making the rice balls as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

The three rectangular plates in front of him had many gaps from students taking one or two and Shin's red rice cooker stood ready to make more. Another student turned the corner, and he said in his quiet voice, "Have an onigiri."