LOG: Manuel and Marie-Ange - Colours!
Mar. 3rd, 2005 10:57 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsNo, this isn't their trip to the coffeehouse. This one's an oldie-but-goodie, set back to the week after Valentine's Day. Posted late because I suck. :(
Marie-Ange knocked with a sneaker-clad toe on Manuel's door, her arms too full of brown-paper-wrapped packages to knock properly with her hands. The nagging feeling that she had to make this delivery -today- hadn't gone away after a large cup of strong tea, and ignoring it would likely just give her a headache.
Besides, she desperatly wanted to see the look on Manuel's face. He made some of the best confused faces, and if she could get a good one, she could draw it later for an art project. Facial expressions was coming up as a unit in her drawing class, and Manuel made for a good subject for sketches.
Manuel opened the door slowly. He looked like about a dozen miles of bad road, but when he realized who it was that was knocking on his door, he smiled faintly. "Hey." he said. "What's all this. For me?" he asked her. "Come in, let me help you with that..." he said chivalrously, and took some of the packages from her and set them down on his immaculately-made bed. His room was, for a change, just about spotless.
"Yes, for you." Marie-Ange said. Explaining -why- could come later, though Manuel could probably guess, if he thought about it, once the packages were opened. "And you seem like you could use a surprise present today." If Manuel's physical apperance was any indication of his emotional state, and it usually was, he was in dire need of cheering up of some sort.
Manuel smiled an honest smile - a thin smile, but an honest one. "I look a mess. You'll have to forgive me for that." he said, and then carefully unwrapped the smallest package in the pile. "Sunglasses?" he said, eyeing the very expensive designer shades. "Why -" he started to ask, and then a flash of insight hit him. "You know." he said quietly.
"I have known since I came back from New Orleans." Technically since the airport, if she was being -very- precise. "I have not seen you wear them often since... and really, the pair that you do have? Does not suit you at all. It was bothering me for a while until I figured out why they did not suit you." It hadn't been the style of the
glasses, just that they were not dark enough, and then the rest had come tumbling out of the cards, making entirely too much sense.
Manuel put the sunglasses on, and somehow they looked _right_ on his face. "Thank you." he said quietly. "So, what else did my French Connection bring me this day?" he asked, unwrapping the next-largest package. "Art supplies?" he said, staring at the box with some surprise. "Are you _sure_ these are for me?"
That was -exactly- the expression she had been looking for, Marie-Ange made a mental note to try to remember it exactly and then smiled. "Yes, I am -quite- sure. Amanda has her own, and you are going to need them." Figuring out what he needed in the way of a medium to work in had been easy. Blendable and more colours than anything else, and the ability to work in more than one texture. "And I imagine that the colours are all out of order for you, but that is how the store clerk packaged them in the case..."
Manuel opened the case and looked at the crayons. "They are out of order." he said. "Assuming that these were supposed to be put in order of color, from red down to violet." He looked at the crayons, and then at Marie-Ange. "So what am I supposed to do with them, seeing as how you knew enough to give them to me in the first place."
"I told the clerk it would not likely matter what order he put them in..." Marie-Ange said. "And what do most people do with oil pastels? They draw, or colour." She pointed at the next package, indicating that he should open it. "Though in your case, more colouring, less drawing, and no, I did not get you a colouring book, though I was tempted. They had Veggie Tales in the bookstore next to my art store."
Manuel gave Marie-Ange one of his patented Horrified Looks. "I suppose I can be grateful for small mercies." he said with a shudder as he unwrapped his final gift. "An - sketchpad, I believe the word is?" he asked, looking at the oversized volume. "And not a Veggie Tale to be seen." he said with relief as he flipped through it. "Those things are just bizarre. Entirely too happy for rage-red and cowardice-yellow." he muttered.
"Two sketchpads, actually." Marie-Ange said, indicating the reverse side of the pad. "Half is regular paper, half is velium for tracing or making a layer over another drawing. See? It is nearly transparent, but thick enough that it would be hard to tear." She snickered at his irritation at the coloured vegetables. She couldn't really argue,
though it would be hypocritical to comment on animated vegetables when one regularly terrorized people with animated letters. "I had wanted to get you an easel as well, but I could not decide if a standing one, or a desk model would be better, and my vision only gave me so much to work with."
Manuel gestured to his room. "I have the room for a standing one. I know nothing of such things - although there was this one girl..." he said musingly. "Wish I could remember why I did what I did, but I remember what happened. She was an artist. Sort of reminds me of you, a little. Very depressed, but with periods of massive, massive energy. Girl could _party_, too." he remembered. "Well, I won't bore you with details. It didn't end well."
"The only benefit a desk model offers is that it is portable." Well, that and it made for a good makeshift hammer when carpet nails came up, but Manuel did not need to know -that-. "I can drive you to the art store later, if you want. Though, you -must- promise not to try to rearrange the paint or pastel displays." Unless it was the one snooty
clerk, and then Marie-Ange was resolved to look the other way if Manuel decided to be offended at people's colour perceptions.
"Sure." he said with a grin. "Maybe we could get some coffee while we are out? Bring the art stuff, sit outside, drink some coffee? Chat a little?" he said with a leer. "And I'm not promising anything. Depends on how I feel."
"So, you are suggesting that we go to a coffee shop and be artistic? It sounds terribly pretentious and European." Marie-Ange asked, mock-innocently, with a small grin. "Which I suppose would be more of a problem if we were not from Europe."
Manuel grinned back. "I was about to say. All you need is a beret now, and the stereotype will be complete. I, of course, am the Latin Lover, and you're the French Art Student. We could play it up a bit..." he said with a wink. "Come on, when was the last time we went out and had some _fun_? Besides, I could really use some right about now." he added quietly.
"I am not wearing a beret.' Marie-Ange said firmly. "I can, however, go get a baggy black sweater and be tragic and depressed if you like." She smiled gently and nodded. "And yes, you need fun. It is written all over your face. Somewhere under the stubble from not shaving..."
Manuel shook his head. "Oh no. Baggy is right out." he said firmly. "And I do need to get cleaned up if we are going out." he said. "I am _so_ not going out looking like this. I was looking forward to another day of Figure Out Why You're Such An Asshole, but this sounds like far more fun."
"You? Are predictable." Marie-Ange said. "If you change and manage to look like you did not just crawl out of a four day rave, I will go see which of the cars in the pool is free and find the keys. I make no promises about my ability to parallel park. We are going to have to find a garage." Someday she was going to figure out how to use
precognition to find a decent parking spot that did not involve contortions, but today was not that day.
"I prefer to think of it as being constant." he said with a laugh. "Feel free to stick around or whatever. I need a shower badly." he said, heading for his bathroom and shedding clothing on his way there. "Think you could get Scott's car?" he asked, slightly muffled from pulling his T-shirt off over his head.
"I think that is about as likely as being allowed to borrow the Blackbird..." Marie-Ange answered. "Doug and Forge do not get to borrow Mr. Summers' car, and they are both far better drivers than I am."
"But they're not as persuasive as we are, and we look far, far better." he said from inside the bathroom, where the shower had just been started. Then, any and all noise was lost between the sound of the shower spray and Manuel's rather excellent rendition of A Perfect Circle's song Magdalena.
Marie-Ange knocked with a sneaker-clad toe on Manuel's door, her arms too full of brown-paper-wrapped packages to knock properly with her hands. The nagging feeling that she had to make this delivery -today- hadn't gone away after a large cup of strong tea, and ignoring it would likely just give her a headache.
Besides, she desperatly wanted to see the look on Manuel's face. He made some of the best confused faces, and if she could get a good one, she could draw it later for an art project. Facial expressions was coming up as a unit in her drawing class, and Manuel made for a good subject for sketches.
Manuel opened the door slowly. He looked like about a dozen miles of bad road, but when he realized who it was that was knocking on his door, he smiled faintly. "Hey." he said. "What's all this. For me?" he asked her. "Come in, let me help you with that..." he said chivalrously, and took some of the packages from her and set them down on his immaculately-made bed. His room was, for a change, just about spotless.
"Yes, for you." Marie-Ange said. Explaining -why- could come later, though Manuel could probably guess, if he thought about it, once the packages were opened. "And you seem like you could use a surprise present today." If Manuel's physical apperance was any indication of his emotional state, and it usually was, he was in dire need of cheering up of some sort.
Manuel smiled an honest smile - a thin smile, but an honest one. "I look a mess. You'll have to forgive me for that." he said, and then carefully unwrapped the smallest package in the pile. "Sunglasses?" he said, eyeing the very expensive designer shades. "Why -" he started to ask, and then a flash of insight hit him. "You know." he said quietly.
"I have known since I came back from New Orleans." Technically since the airport, if she was being -very- precise. "I have not seen you wear them often since... and really, the pair that you do have? Does not suit you at all. It was bothering me for a while until I figured out why they did not suit you." It hadn't been the style of the
glasses, just that they were not dark enough, and then the rest had come tumbling out of the cards, making entirely too much sense.
Manuel put the sunglasses on, and somehow they looked _right_ on his face. "Thank you." he said quietly. "So, what else did my French Connection bring me this day?" he asked, unwrapping the next-largest package. "Art supplies?" he said, staring at the box with some surprise. "Are you _sure_ these are for me?"
That was -exactly- the expression she had been looking for, Marie-Ange made a mental note to try to remember it exactly and then smiled. "Yes, I am -quite- sure. Amanda has her own, and you are going to need them." Figuring out what he needed in the way of a medium to work in had been easy. Blendable and more colours than anything else, and the ability to work in more than one texture. "And I imagine that the colours are all out of order for you, but that is how the store clerk packaged them in the case..."
Manuel opened the case and looked at the crayons. "They are out of order." he said. "Assuming that these were supposed to be put in order of color, from red down to violet." He looked at the crayons, and then at Marie-Ange. "So what am I supposed to do with them, seeing as how you knew enough to give them to me in the first place."
"I told the clerk it would not likely matter what order he put them in..." Marie-Ange said. "And what do most people do with oil pastels? They draw, or colour." She pointed at the next package, indicating that he should open it. "Though in your case, more colouring, less drawing, and no, I did not get you a colouring book, though I was tempted. They had Veggie Tales in the bookstore next to my art store."
Manuel gave Marie-Ange one of his patented Horrified Looks. "I suppose I can be grateful for small mercies." he said with a shudder as he unwrapped his final gift. "An - sketchpad, I believe the word is?" he asked, looking at the oversized volume. "And not a Veggie Tale to be seen." he said with relief as he flipped through it. "Those things are just bizarre. Entirely too happy for rage-red and cowardice-yellow." he muttered.
"Two sketchpads, actually." Marie-Ange said, indicating the reverse side of the pad. "Half is regular paper, half is velium for tracing or making a layer over another drawing. See? It is nearly transparent, but thick enough that it would be hard to tear." She snickered at his irritation at the coloured vegetables. She couldn't really argue,
though it would be hypocritical to comment on animated vegetables when one regularly terrorized people with animated letters. "I had wanted to get you an easel as well, but I could not decide if a standing one, or a desk model would be better, and my vision only gave me so much to work with."
Manuel gestured to his room. "I have the room for a standing one. I know nothing of such things - although there was this one girl..." he said musingly. "Wish I could remember why I did what I did, but I remember what happened. She was an artist. Sort of reminds me of you, a little. Very depressed, but with periods of massive, massive energy. Girl could _party_, too." he remembered. "Well, I won't bore you with details. It didn't end well."
"The only benefit a desk model offers is that it is portable." Well, that and it made for a good makeshift hammer when carpet nails came up, but Manuel did not need to know -that-. "I can drive you to the art store later, if you want. Though, you -must- promise not to try to rearrange the paint or pastel displays." Unless it was the one snooty
clerk, and then Marie-Ange was resolved to look the other way if Manuel decided to be offended at people's colour perceptions.
"Sure." he said with a grin. "Maybe we could get some coffee while we are out? Bring the art stuff, sit outside, drink some coffee? Chat a little?" he said with a leer. "And I'm not promising anything. Depends on how I feel."
"So, you are suggesting that we go to a coffee shop and be artistic? It sounds terribly pretentious and European." Marie-Ange asked, mock-innocently, with a small grin. "Which I suppose would be more of a problem if we were not from Europe."
Manuel grinned back. "I was about to say. All you need is a beret now, and the stereotype will be complete. I, of course, am the Latin Lover, and you're the French Art Student. We could play it up a bit..." he said with a wink. "Come on, when was the last time we went out and had some _fun_? Besides, I could really use some right about now." he added quietly.
"I am not wearing a beret.' Marie-Ange said firmly. "I can, however, go get a baggy black sweater and be tragic and depressed if you like." She smiled gently and nodded. "And yes, you need fun. It is written all over your face. Somewhere under the stubble from not shaving..."
Manuel shook his head. "Oh no. Baggy is right out." he said firmly. "And I do need to get cleaned up if we are going out." he said. "I am _so_ not going out looking like this. I was looking forward to another day of Figure Out Why You're Such An Asshole, but this sounds like far more fun."
"You? Are predictable." Marie-Ange said. "If you change and manage to look like you did not just crawl out of a four day rave, I will go see which of the cars in the pool is free and find the keys. I make no promises about my ability to parallel park. We are going to have to find a garage." Someday she was going to figure out how to use
precognition to find a decent parking spot that did not involve contortions, but today was not that day.
"I prefer to think of it as being constant." he said with a laugh. "Feel free to stick around or whatever. I need a shower badly." he said, heading for his bathroom and shedding clothing on his way there. "Think you could get Scott's car?" he asked, slightly muffled from pulling his T-shirt off over his head.
"I think that is about as likely as being allowed to borrow the Blackbird..." Marie-Ange answered. "Doug and Forge do not get to borrow Mr. Summers' car, and they are both far better drivers than I am."
"But they're not as persuasive as we are, and we look far, far better." he said from inside the bathroom, where the shower had just been started. Then, any and all noise was lost between the sound of the shower spray and Manuel's rather excellent rendition of A Perfect Circle's song Magdalena.
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Date: 2005-03-03 06:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 06:26 pm (UTC)Seriously though? Is she -really- that annoying? Because I'm getting that impression that people think she is.
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Date: 2005-03-03 06:30 pm (UTC)I don't think she's annoying. My boys may not be especially fond of her (which is okay, because few like my boys either), but that's not my impression.
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Date: 2005-03-03 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-03-03 09:20 pm (UTC)