xp_erverse: (mental problems)
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Marie-Ange adds another subject to her personal nude sketch list. Quentin really bares it all.


"So." Quentin's shoes, socks, and shirt were off in less than ten seconds after stepping into the room. "You do this for all the guys?"

Marie-Ange had to stop for a moment to assess, because she was not quite certain how Quentin had managed to get all those clothes off that fast without hurting himself or tearing something. "All of the legal ones who have shown themselves willing and who I think will feature strongly in precognitive episodes and... " She paused and rolled a pencil over her knuckles. "Yes. Yes, all of the guys, most of the women. Your partner in casual sex has refused several times, which is vexing."

Pants came off next so Quentin was only wearing his green square-cut briefs (Hooker's green, the tag had said, which was regrettably named after a person, apparently). He lay down on the couch, arms sprawled behind his head like a weary courtesan. "Which one?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows. "Wait, all the guys? Does that mean you've done Summers yet? The hot one, not the asshole."

"Both, but yes, I have sketches of Alex. He is not shy one bit." Marie-Ange's answer was accompanied by the rapid flip of paper in a sketchpad until she came to a blank page. "Gabriel has refused. Please do convince him, otherwise I have to use a body double and I have no one who matches his skin tone." She flipped a piece of charcoal out of her little bag of them and did a few sweeping warm-up lines, nothing that did more than suggest Quentin's pose. "I can always draw him in underwear, or a towel. Or swim trunks. I have the other Summers' in his, he did not want to undress."

"Bet you he's hiding a micropenis. So how does your whole future-telling thing work, anyway? Close your eyes, think really hard, and then you see what's gonna happen? Sounds like a good way to make bank."

"That process is not quite inaccurate, although if I am going to try to force a precognitive episode I usually require a boost." This came with the universe gesture for smoking a joint, pinched thumb and forefinger to lips, and Marie-Ange gave Quentin a knowing sort of smile. "The power itself is symbolic and erratic and appropriately, very unpredictable without assistance."

"And here I thought you had to get the harder drugs to see through time." Quentin shifted his position, turning a bit onto his side so the tattoo on his chest, the verse from a Langston Hughes poem, was more visible. He let his right arm dangle so the Dionysus tattoo on his bicep was also easier to see. "Why the nudity? You also need that to predict the future or is that just for your own fun? Not judging either way."

Marie-Ange's drawing hand waved back and forth for a moment. "Eh, it is both, a bit, but also." She paused in the warm-up sketch and with a grumpy noise, flipped the page before taking a few tarot cards from the same bag as her sketch supplies, and flipped them expertly - one at a time - towards Quentin. "Some of the cards, they have naked subjects, it is useful where romance and sex are concerned. Sometimes other themes, vulnerability, birth, death."

The pair of lovers cards gently floated into the air so Quentin did not have to move to see them. He grimaced at what he saw. "Real talk, Colbert. I get the appeal of polyamory and nightly orgies, but that blond bitch?" The cards rotated daintily, like figure skaters on ice, to reveal her cards of Doug and Laurie. "He's not so bad, I guess, even though he looks like the king of basic white boys. Her, though."

"It is fewer orgies than you think." Marie-Ange said absently. "Laurie and I are complicated. It is more an arrangement of mutual support and strength than romance. Doug and I have history and my tastes quite run to basic, at least when white men are concerned. But I think you are not actually all that interested, you just wanted to complain, yes?" She tossed Quentin a few more cards. "I like men who talk in bed. I like women who boss me around. My current set of partners is quite good at all of that."

"You know me so well. Maybe we have more in common than we thought." The cards spread before Quentin so he could examine them all. His reaction to finally seeing Alex's and Lorna's cards was predictable to even a blind person, but he showed no shame. "Not gonna lie, you almost make me want to take up art. Gotta find a different excuse than seeing the future, though. Hey, you got Centino in there, too?"

Marie-Ange nodded, and pinched a card out of her remaining stack to toss to Quentin. "Arthur? Yes, although his is from websites and stills from his television shows, rather than actual poses. I should really ask him if he would like to sit for a pose, I did pretend to be his wife once. I think that qualifies me to ask him to take off his pants." She rolled her hand and then elbow and shoulder, and then bent to sketch in earnest. "I try to get at least one card of everyone, even if I have to guess or use a double."

Impressed though he was by the quality of the drawing, its origins from other photos and her imagination rather than reality did not interest Quentin so much. He let the cards all go back to the deck and then, deciding he should fit in with the rest of her subjects, removed the last of his clothing, tossing his underwear onto his pile of clothes.

"You know, you should follow me on Snapchat if you want to see more angles."

"Snapchat makes me feel old. Besides, I would have to screenshot them, and I believe the purpose of Snapchat is to have the chats go away, yes?" Marie-Ange answered. "Really though, are you going to complain so much if I ask you to lounge around naked four or five more times?"

"But I can't hold certain positions long enough for you to draw, so having a photo for everything would be better."

"Live is always better but if you want to send me eight dozen selfies, I will not complain." Marie-Ange said, with a little shrug. "But do not be surprised if you find yourself the body double for every person with your body type. You could end up with your penis in any number of pictures that do not have your face in them." She paused - and before Quentin could respond, added. "I suppose you do that already though, yes?"

Quentin shrugged. "I'll forward you the Jean-Paul Beaubier collection. He was insistent on anonymity. Although, you know, with a perfect ass like his, you can't really keep a secret."

"He is really very lovely, though perhaps that is not fair to him, if you share your photographs without permission?" Marie-Ange said with a shrug, and a wave of a piece of charcoal. "Do you really take photographs of everyone you sleep with? Or just the famous ones?"

"I keep a comprehensive archive so when I'm lying on my deathbed — assuming I'm not assassinated first — I can remember the difference I made in the world by giving lots of orgasms. Just doing my part." Lying there naked and partially aroused, Quentin continued, as if unable to just leave it so flippantly. "And because it proves a point. People want to fuck me."

"I will make sure to create a giant oil painting of you after your untimely but dramatic death so that you can grace this earth forever." Marie-Ange said with a snort. "I think it proves more than that to you but I am not your therapist and I do not want to be. I really should just make one comprehensive deck of tarot cards for erotic-related purposes, but then I would have to determine what the four suits would be." Her radical change of subject was designed to distract from the assessment of Quentin's real motive behind proof that people wanted to fuck him, and it was obvious about it. But Marie-Ange was nearly certain that the pink-haired telepath did not want advice, and certainly not from her.

"Femme, butch, twink, and twunk," were Quentin's helpful suggestions, after a moment of considering whether to continue his line of conversation or give in to her urge to change course. There were worse people from whom to seek advice, but definitely also better situations in which to receive it. "With some creativity, you can probably get most everyone here into one of those categories."

That made Marie-Ange pause, and then quirk a smile. "I suppose you would like to be, what, the King of Twinks? I think that is what you are, yes?" She flipped pages in her sketchpad and roughed out Quentin and a throne, and any number of scepters. "I think that is the giant oil painting I will do."

"Thank you for recognizing my proper place in the world."
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