milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Autor leaves a delectable, fist-sized peach with the bar for the Emcee, writing a note: Vielen Dank für die Beratung. -A.

Later he curls up on the couch, adding length to a navy blue knitting project shorter than his forearm in one dimension but longer than he is tall in the other. Due to Margolotta's instruction, the boy's stitches are loose and even, for the most part. His hands are gentle as he absently moves the needles; he no longer stabs himself in the left index finger with every other purl. Nor does he get that odd, occasional dent in his rows.

But the project draped across his legs doesn't get near as much attention as the book propped up on his knees. The boy is consumed by the well-loved text, Fairy Tale: The Life of Herr Drosselemyer.

It might be difficult to interrupt him.

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Autor bows his head. "I am honored that you showed it to me, Gavroche," he says, and returns to flipping through it. "I bet Rae would be flattered to know that you've drawn her with such skill. I assume you're self-taught?"

Gavroche nods.

"More or less. I've watched the street artists, but they didn't know I was there."

"Well, it's quite impressive," Autor says, adjusting his glasses. "Especially for someone self-taught."

He flips through the sketchbook, landing on a portrait of himself. "Oh! Oh, wow. I've never had a drawing done of me done before. Thank you," he says, tapping his sketched eye. "You've captured me."

He blinks, looks at the picture, then back at Autor.

"...it's better than I thought. You haven't?"

"No, I haven't. There are two pictures of me in existence, both on digital cameras here," Autor says, tapping the sketch again. "This is excellent for your not having a model. Unless I modeled and had no idea, haha!"

"I might've done some of it from across the room", he admits. "The rest from memory."

Autor nods, considering this. Clearly he needs to be more aware of his surroundings.

"Well, you've got a good memory, Gavroche," Autor says. "That's something that can be really useful. I still think you should show Rae hers."

"Maybe I will, then." He glances back at the page. "D'you want to keep yours?"

"Sure, I'd love to," Autor says, brightening. "That's very kind of you. I wish I could return the favor."

"Ah, something's bound to come up sooner or later", Gavroche says, relaxed about it, and carefully tears out the picture.

Autor takes it from him gingerly, with a grateful nod. He glances over the lines again, marveling at how Gavroche's talent and hard work managed to capture the essence of him.

"Thank you," he says. "Do you have a favorite medium to work with?"

"Plain old pencil on paper, usually", Gavroche tells him. "Nothing fancy, not charcoal or painting or... whatever else they do."

"I like watercolor, though I'm not very good at it yet," Autor admits, almost shy. "You can do amazing things with pencils. You already have."

"What do you do in watercolour?" he asks, honestly interested. "Landscapes?"

"Landscapes are about all I can handle right now," Autor says, nodding. "I like trees better than face--I can't capture faces like you can."

"Well, I'm no good at making trees look like more than brown and green blobs." Gavroche grins. "To each their own."

"Who says that's not what I'm doing?" Autor says, grinning back.

"I've showed you mine", he counters, "now you have to show me yours."

...he doesn't have to at all, of course.

"Oh, gosh. They're up in my room; I didn't bother coding them into my sylladex," Autor says, packing up his knitting. "Will Franz be fine down here?"

"For a little while, he'll be fine." He drops into the Speech to tell Franz to go and wait for him by the fire.

Autor stands, setting his knitting and books on the couch. He leads Gavroche up the stairs. "I'm amused. I think you're the third person to see my room."

When he opens the door, his room is sparse and neat. A desk rests in the corner. Blazers hang in his closet. A tea kettle rests on his nightstand. A second knitting project--the beginnings of a few red squares in different shades--lays spread out on his comfortable bed.

Books cover the floor and fill the closet, which he digs the paintings out of with a blush stirring on his cheeks. "Well. Here we are," he says. They're certainly amateurish, but he is trying.

"...why are you keeping them in the closet?" Gavroche wants to know. "I'm not much of a judge of painting, but they're hardly so bad you should hide them."

Other than that, the room's pretty much exactly what he'd expect Autor's room to look like.

Autor shrugs with one shoulder. "Ah, they're--I'm not used to hanging paintings, or decorations of any kind, really. But you really think I should hang them up? Hm! Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gavroche."

"I think you should", he says firmly. "Bar can give you frames if you need more. And if you're keeping this room long-term, you should decorate it however you want."

"Well," Autor says, still a little embarrassed to be showing the paintings in the first place. He glances to them. "Thank you. And thank you again for that drawing you did of me. Have you considered framing some of yours?"