Goldenrod ex, 5/8 undersized (closed)

[amaure]

Who: Emet-Selch, Hythlodaeus, Estinien, Ziva, Urianger (maybe Dirk)
Where: Goldenrod city, mainly Emet-Selch's small apartment, but also elsewhere in the city.
When: 22nd-25th
Summary: The party has now reached Goldenrod, and they have decided to make Emet's life hell. You know, how most of his relationships do. He ain't single and he ain't ready to mingle and yet...
Rating: Will update as needed, gen for now.


When he had sent Estinien to retrieve Hythlodaeus, he had not expected there to be others among their traveling group! Let alone others from their own star—one of which he is familiar with, the other...well, in a way he is, but he hasn't fully gotten the confirmation she may yet be who Hythlodaeus suspects she is. The hero of the source he knows is not a small blond woman, but an average height brunet man, and as such he's left a little conflicted with the possibility of such differences.

Regardless of all of that, he did not expect the group to arrive at his rather quaint apartment. Barely is it suited for Hythlodaeus alone, but especially not five people in total! The knock on his door was expected, but not the slew of faces that assaulted his gaze upon opening it. His exasperated and dramatic flourish of his discontent was likely more amusing than scathing, and while he had little choice but to let them in, it did result in him locking himself in the bathroom for a time.

Glad as he is to see Hythlodaeus at long last, there's something ruinous about the unexpected company! Particularly when a certain dragoon looks both smug and amused, with that small grin of his, at the vexation brought on by these ill-turn of events, and Solus' clear surprise. Finally with some coaxing, he finds himself among them once more, looking none too pleased about it, but what can he do? Sure, he could tell them to leave, but he knows what a fool's endeavor that will be.

If this were to become the usual among their group, if his dwelling would be their landing whenever they arrive at Goldenrod, a home base if you will, then something will have to change. For now, this is his lot, terrible though it is.

Comments

old man much too old for this shit

[amaure]

@ Estinien

[After coming to terms with his situation, horrific though it is, he still has something to give to Estinien. Well, other than a sore talking to, but that will certainly come first. As the others engage in their prattle and myriad conversations about...who knows what, Solus hardly cares. As he approaches the dragoon whom is the target of his ire, he looks every bit annoyed as he did from the start, though he has something tucked under his arm, a small rectangular box of some sort, yet he does not seem keen to bring attention to it.

The way he's speaking in a whisper-yell also seems as though he's not interested in bringing too much attention to them either. Not that he wishes to hide his discontent with this situation, he has made that rather blatant! Rather, he does not need any of them easing their way into his scolding.]

This really is unacceptable, you know. What have you to say for yourself? I had asked you to bring me Hythlodaeus, and instead you bring—[his golden eyes flick over to the others, before settling into a glare back at Estinien]—them. You know full well my abode is not accommodating enough for so many! Explain yourself!

@ anyone

[After his little...conversation with Estinien, he seems keen to attempt ignoring the others as best he can. Having taken the day off of work in preparation of Hythlodaeus' arrival...he has nowhere to be at the moment, and yet he wishes he did. While he carries himself with a certain glib ease, and is ever the chatty sort, he abhors when social situations do not go in his favor. Or when he loses some level of control over it, so right now he is feeling rather, uh. Put off by this all.

Long has he given up on trying to keep the others out of his fridge or cabinets, letting them help themselves to whatever might be in the apartment (which is, admittedly, not a whole lot with how he's been living, perhaps some crackers, there's cheese wedges of various kinds, a pack of beer, half drank bottle of wine, an exorbitant amount of canned coffee...). Trying his best to pay them no mind. Which is why he's keeping to his corner of the studio, sitting upon his bed trying to engross himself in a book—some sort of novelization of a play from this world.

Should one take it upon themselves to bother him, they certain can do so at their peril! But that's what the adventurer life is all about, right? Taking risks for possible rewards? Not that there is much of a reward for interacting with this old grouch, but...]

go take your dentures out and take a nap, grandpa

[stardiving]

[Estinien merely rolls his eyes at the chiding. Honestly, you expect them to stay here? Ziva is possibly the only one that can fit on that couch of yours, and Estinien wants absolutely no part in recreating the Cuddle Incident.

Much less whatever you and Hythlodaeus are going to get up to behind closed doors. Nope. He doesn't want any part of that. He already suspects what's going to go down.

(You. It's probably you. On Hythlodaeus. Or maybe vice versa, he's not going to ask because he doesn't want to know.)]

We hardly intend to stay. Ziva and Urianger shall find an inn, I shall likewise find other accommodations.

Wow he does not have DENTURES TYVM

[amaure]

[Wow awful presumptuous of you to think they're just gonna fuck, can't two immortal, and very obviously queer, beings that have known each other since time immemorial just be friends? HUH!!!

But you're right, he absolutely will once he gets the chance, shut up.]

Praise Zodiark, you lot have some sense. I figured you'd likewise invite yourselves to stay for however long, likely taking up what little room there is on my floor, or whatever suits your boorish fancy.

That aside, you could have given me some warning. I scant have proper accommodations for so many, and it truly has brought to light how lacking my abode serves as a spot for rendezvouses.

[He pauses for a moment, pondering such as he looks over at the others. It's pretty clear he's lost in thought, but then there's a jolt to his shoulders as he remembers the box in his hand. Holding it up, it's a small black box, tied with a ribbon.]

Here, a token of my gratitude, though I am questioning my choices now.

[When Estinien takes it, he can likely feel the chill the contents inside is radiating. When he opens it, he will find a nice shiny Ice Stone inside.]

[stardiving]

[Nope.]

Nay, tis too small.

Beside, the look on your face twas most entertaining.

[He tilts his head as he looks at the box curiously, and Iceheart puts her paws up on his thigh, stretching up towards his hand to sniff.

It does indeed feel cold in his hands, and he opens the box to see the ice stone. He knows what it is, he's looked at how all of his team evolves--even if he didn't, Iceheart's tails start to wag as she recognizes it, and she jumps up towards the box in his hand and barks excitedly.]

[amaure]

I'm sure...

[He does not sound particularly flattered that Estinien was entertained by his reaction, but at the same time he's actually not horrifically bothered by Estinien's teasing. It's...refreshing in a way, than the otherwise cold way the man regarded him before.

Could this be? Does this mean that Estinien...might...like him? How very interesting.

Either way, the box is open and Estinien and Iceheart both are now the proud owners of an Ice Stone, and the latter seems rather excited by it. His gaze moves to the little fox, his eyebrows lifting with amusement.]

Well! Certainly seems someone is appreciative of my gift. Seems rather eager for it, even. What'll you do, dragoon?

[...Hopefully not evolve her right here and now. There is...not enough room, as they have stated about other things, but not quite about a Pokémon evolving.]

Into the lions den we go.

[purrrrfection]

[One of them has been stealing glances in between poking around the apartment. And in between swigs from a pilfered bottle of beer after she'd found her way to the kitchen. Shh.

She still can't believe it. Emet-Selch is here, has been here for weeks. WEEKS! Somehow the thought of the Paragon being stuck here is even more bizarre than them, maybe because they know what sort of power the Ascians hold? Putting all the jokes aside she thinks there's definite cause to be concerned about any being powerful enough to trap an Ascian of his calibur (not to mention one of the ancients, Hythlodaeus) by any means besides white auracite, and far more permanently at that.

Then again she's not FULLY convinced that this isn't just a wild, crazy fever dream, and that she's not actually locked away in her own subconsciousness while her body rampages as a Light Warden reborn. Chilling fucking thought, that. One she doesn't care to dwell on for any length of time and had more or less resolved to put behind her after her conversation with Urianger on day one.

Truly it's their presence here in Emet-Selch's apartment of all things that feels the most surreal. Just, you know, lolling out here at his place casually as if it's just a thing they do.

Had she agreed to come with the explicit hope of messing with him a little? Sure. Yes. It's still weird.

After a while letting her curious nature get the better of her Ziva finally decides to attempt a bit of socializing with their unwilling host. Probably not the wisest idea, but no one has ever accused her of being terribly smart in that regard.]

I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you didn't immediately pitch us all out onto the street the moment you found us at your doorstep.

[The tone is perhaps surprisingly jovial and in general lacking any actual bite, regardless of any lack of a sense of welcome she's had from him until now. She's not sure how much he's been told about who she is since Estinien and Hythlodaeus had been unfamiliar. Mayhap they'd withheld information regarding her identity to further mess with him, she doesn't know. It doesn't change her approach, hands finding her hips as she stops a few feet away from his seat, one of the bottles of beer hooked casually between two fingers by its throat. You bet your ass she helped herself to some booze.]

Missed our charming brand of companionship, have you?

A mistake...maybe?

[amaure]

[Emet-Selch had settled himself into ignoring the elephant in the room, or in this case, the small woman who was once a Miqo'te and yet is no longer. He's heard...thoughts on who she might be, mainly from Hythlodaeus, and the familiarity that Urianger seems to carry with her certainly...seems to confirm those suspicions, but he himself is uncertain. Perhaps a little stubbornly so, when the Warrior of Light he knew was a Hyuran man, brown of hair, light skinned, and a muscular sort. While Ziva is...almost the complete opposite.

Either way, he looks displeased at her approach, but even further at her familiarity with him. Again, it continues to confirm that which he's stubbornly trying to disprove—even though it seems a little impossible at this point. He does spare her a glance from his book as he turns a page with a flamboyant flick of his wrist.]

Had I my strength, I might have. But as it is, and as it has continued to prove itself to be, I lack such, and so your lot remains.

[Because, honestly...as if he asked them to leave, they would. He's not about to believe in such fairy tales. Maybe he did miss the liveliness of this merry band of misfits, even if there's far fewer of them than before. Not that he'd admit that, at least, not exactly.]

But I suppose there is a bit of charm to your ruckus. [His eyes fall to the bottle of beer in her hand.] Enjoying yourself?

[sinkorsink]

[ Upon arrival, there's a small amount of satisfaction at seeing Emet-Selch so surprised and exasperated by their arrival. Given what he left behind back home, he's been a little wary of their dropping in unannounced. Now, he doesn't know for sure it was Emet that shot the Exarch, but he has his suspicions...not that they matter at the moment. Despite the inconvenience they've caused, he doesn't sense any intent to harm from the Ascian.

Urianger spent most of his time at the edges of the commotion. Five people and a bunch of pokemon cramming into such a small space lends itself to chaos, but it's lively, and he finds himself content to watch things unfold.

Eventually, though, he does make his way over to Emet. The first thing he'll probably notice: Urianger's dressed from head to toe in what can only be described as "that sure is a pokemon trainer, huh." It's very absurd, but there's logic behind his choice in attire. Much like how he adjusted his appearance when he began to study astrology in earnest, he chose clothing that seemed to fit with the world and his designated place in it. If he's expected to go around catching pokemon, he should look at least look the part. ]

Pray forgive our unexpected arrival. Whilst undoubtedly troublesome for thee, glad am I for the opportunity our arrival provideth. In sooth, I was hoping to speak with thee.

[amaure]

[While Emet-Selch is most assuredly from a time before that gun ever fired...that does not mean he's not aware of such a plan. That he hasn't fathomed at least a hundred different ways all of that could have gone down, all the ways the Warrior of Light might fail him, and what others might do to further make a mess of things—especially the ever mysterious Crystal Exarch. Regardless, he has no idea of Urianger's suspicions, because by all means he should not likely have them—at least not in such precise detail. Sure, he's done what he can to earn what trust they will offer him, what with being an Ascian and all, but while Urianger is certainly the brains of the group (along with Y'shtola), the man is hardly a true prophet.

Nevertheless, he's not making the most welcoming visage as the Elezen man approaches, peering up at him with a flat expression that slowly morphs into a disdained smile, though there's the slightest touches of amusement to it at the sight of what Urianger's wearing. Closing his book, he sets it aside, tilting his head with slight curiosity. Rather interesting that he'd wish to speak to him, acting rather civil about it, too! Not that the man was greatly uncivil with him before, card toss at his glamour aside.

Nay, that was more Thancred's field of expertise.]

Oh, very well, I suppose I have time for a little chit-chat. What is it?

[He's really not sure what it is that the man might wish to speak to him about, but there's only one way to find out he guesses.]

[hythlodaeus]

Open

[And now that they do have some time to rest and take it easy... Hythlodaeus will release his Pokemon out into the open to check on them, see if they're hungry... And take notes on each one in his breeder manual. He invites the others to release all of their Pokemon also.

As if there wasn't little enough space as it was.

He's more than a little fascinated and would like to see what his friends and traveling companions have caught! ...And to see how the little creatures might interact. He has his notes and his reference book at the ready.]

[He's in the market for some eggs, after all. He'll still be seated on the bed, having nowhere better to be.]

Closed to Emet-Selch

[And Hythlodaeus is seated upon the bed because there isn't even enough floor space for him without him immediately being in the way. He pats the spot next to him, coaxing him to sit.]

Come, have you had enough of your fretting in your wash room?

[And it is only when seated that Emet-Selch may see the creature now sleeping in Hythlodaeus' hood and cowl. Nestled in his hair against his neck is a little Cutiefly. Hythlodaeus seems to pay it no mind. Does he even know that it's there?]

[amaure]

[It's quite clear to Hythlodaeus most of all that Emet-Selch is frazzled, not that he's taken any steps to particularly hide it, but one might think such dramatics are an over-statement of his annoyance, but truly it isn't. If anything, it is an understatement.

He shoots Hythlodaeus a scowl as he calls him out over his fretting, but joins him all the same, even with a measured reluctance in his body language. Settling on his bed with a stressed sigh, he then glances over at his friend properly. Were the others not here, he would lean over and...]

...Hythlodaeus.

[He says it with a certain urgency to his voice, before he reaches over and plucks the creature from his hair, staring at it with judgmental and scrutinizing eyes.]

Really. Has your traveling so robbed you of your decorum, you know not when you've vilekin in your hair?

[hythlodaeus]

[Cutiefly squeals and thrashes—]

[And Hythlodaeus pulls his head back, a little startled.]

I had no idea!

[And then he pulls out his 'gear to see what it even is—]

Cutiefly. Bee Fly Pokemon. It feeds on the nectar and pollen of flowers. It is able to sense the auras of living things, and can identify which flowers are about to bloom. It skillfully reads those auras to predict its foes' movements and make fools of them. Cutiefly flutter above the heads of people who have auras resembling those of flowers.

Oh! Did you mistake me for a flower patch? Poor thing, sorry to wake you! [He holds out his hand]

[amaure]

[While Hythlodaeus gets the read on it, Emet holds it firmly in his grasp, but not so firmly to hurt the poor thing. However, when Hythlodaeus holds out his hand, he releases the poor thing so that it may return to...well, he guesses Hythlodaeus is to be its trainer now.]

Mayhap 'tis time you cut that mane of yours, if there are to be beasts getting lost within it.

[He says that half in jest, because he does rather like Hythlodaeus' long hair, but...really...]

[hythlodaeus]

Ah, but what a sour way to look at it. My mane has gained me a friend!

[The Cutiefly crawls onto his hand and gazes up at him nervously. Hythlodaeus simply brings his hand up to his hood and lifts a bit of hair, inviting the Cutiefly to return to its napping spot. It flutters back, burying itself to just peek out at Emet-Selch. He gives her a little pet on the head with a single finger.]

I suppose I should name her... Melissa, I think, is suiting.

HOTSPRING EPISODE; Wednesday Evening

[amaure]

[Well, it was bound to happen, huh? Get any myriad group of people together, and at least one of them who gives a huge fuck about self-care or whatever it is that Hythlodaeus is on about, and eventually you'll find yourself at some sort of onsen. Fortunately, Goldenrod (what with being based off of Osaka) has a great many! So, despite what concerns or gripes there may have been from others (mainly Estinien and possibly Emet-Selch), they are now at one!

However, not only is it an onsen, but there are other parts to it as well! It's pretty much an entire spa, with a sauna, massage, facials, mani/pedicures, aromatherapy...honestly the works! Guess it's a good thing that Emet-Selch got that big bonus from his work, cuz who the hell knows if the others can truly afford this, and Hythlodaeus has no idea how money works besides.

It's fine, it's cool, Emet-Selch will make them all pay him back. But for now, it's not about money, it's about relaxation! The only downside to this is that the onsen are gendered, and so Ziva will likely have to sneak her way over to the boy's side, or settle with talking over the wooden fence that divides them.


---

As for Emet himself, well...if this is coming out of his goddamn pocket, he's going to indulge. So he'll certainly be getting the works: exfoliating wraps, massage, mani/pedi, hanging in the sauna, and eventually he'll be in the onsen. Fortunately, or unfortunately, all of these are not private activities, so he theoretically could have company on any of these little endeavors, just try to strike up conversation with him, I dare you.

He'll be the most talkative in the hotspring proper, settling with some sake that's floating around on those little wooden rafts, as he relaxes in the warm depths of the waters, elbows resting on the edge as he regards the others in a manner that one might dare to call...fondness? Maybe it's a trick of the light, low that it is to keep a relaxing and ambient atmosphere, or maybe he actually is in a decent mood! Who knows!]

Dressing Room > Onsen

[stardiving]

[Estinien is a simple man, with simple desires, therefore after being dragged to this and gently encouraged to take part (though he does pay his own way, he's not going to be beholden to Solus if he can help it) he ends up in the isakaya attached to the onsen, drinking sake and eating squid and edamame, and not admitting to himself that he misses the company of Orn Khai. For a while, anyway, until someone Solus comes to find him and drag him into the onsen proper.

Where, surprise surprise, he has to take off his clothes.

He's not overly fond of that idea.

But after some further gentle persuasion he can indeed be found in the hot spring itself, ridiculously self-conscious for someone that no one is actually looking at.]

[amaure]

[Look, if Estinien's here, he might as well enjoy the soothing waters, and while Solus understands to an extent Estinien's problems with the marring to his mortal form, it should not lock him out of enjoying things like this!

Or, perhaps more accurately, having to suffer the same burdens Solus has to, but hey! Whatever!

With Estinien in the water proper, though clearly trying to hide as much of his body as he can, he can't help but make his way over to him. Floating the little raft of sake with him as he approaches. Settling besides him, he offers him a (questionably) friendly smile.]

Come now, is it truly so horrid? You need not be so tense—we're all friends here, are we not?

[stardiving]

[Look, he just does not like being naked around people, even without all the issues that come with being self-conscious about his scars.

He glances over as Solus approaches, from where he's sunk neck-deep with his hair floating around him in the warm water like a particularly sleepy (and drunk, now that the alcohol has had time to limber him up properly) lizard.

Still one that doesn't really like being exposed, but still. And one that is confused by the 'friend' title, clearly thinking it over.

He doesn't have a lot of those, okay?]

...I suppose.

[He supposes what, that he doesn't need to be tense? That they're friends? Both? It's a mystery. Words are being hard to deal with right now.]

Onsen

[hythlodaeus]

[Maybe not no one.]

[Hythlodaeus seems to be sizing Estinien up in some way, and finally does speak after a moment.]

Each of those scars, even the muscles themselves are a story. So much in so little time...

[Oh, great, he's drunk. And he looks like he's dissolving in the onsen, his long hair moving slightly like ghastly kelp in the water.]

Re: Onsen

[stardiving]

[Well, that makes two of them, being drunk that is. It's the only reason he's agreed to all this, and even then he's starting to sober up enough to regret it. Especially with eyes on him.

It's not that he's particularly bothered by his scars, at least not by themselves, it's moreso the way they make people look at him--in horror, or in pity. He can't abide either.

A little raft of warmed sake drifts past, and Estinien grabs a cup off it and carefully does not make eye contact.]

[hythlodaeus]

[Hythlodaeus, taking absolutely no cues, sidles in closer.]

Do they still hurt you?

[His eyes, at least, are now at an appropriate level as he looks Estinien's face over.]

I've had a few injuries, but I've never scarred...

Thursday the 25th

[uber_marionettist]

Whatever Emet might have expected from Dirk's room... presumably it wasn't this.

Hopefully? It wasn't this?

'This' being the actual condition and contents of Dirk's blessedly and blatantly private quarters in the Goldenrod Rocket HQ. The space is equal parts messy and spotless, cluttered and bare. The floor is riotously colourful with puppets and smuppets and yards of fabric. A few strategically placed marionettes hang from the ceiling.

His bed is a thick mattress with no frame, just a boxspring and a Full sized pillowtop with bedding piled up on the end that's been pushed against the walk. Pillows--half a dozen, easily--are heaped at the other end in an approximately convex arrangement. Somehow he's contrived to cram both a desk and chair and an additional table into the space, though both appear equally laid out with notebooks, drafting paper, drawing paper, and mechanical errata--including three or four bright blue camera 'eyes.' One of those is facing the door.

If there's an organisational system, it exists only in Dirk's head.

The walls are adorned with art and photography--the photography is entirely of Rapidash, and at least some of those pictures are clearly of his own. The art, though...

Anthropomorphised, muscular horses and Pokemon flex and pose in both full colour and black and white; some of it appears to be of contrivedly 'candid' shots, while others are flagrantly lewd or even blatantly pornographic. The level of detail involved in all cases can be most charitably described as 'loving.'

The only other scene going on in this chaos are three shelves bolted to the wall, heavy duty lamps affixed over each row. All three shelves are covered in little bonsai trees, a deep blue Chesto berry or two on each one. A transparent spray bottle with a googly-eyed smuppet penned on it with red marker sits on the floor nearby.

It's... not clear where he keeps his clothes.

Dirk steps back from the door, giving Emet space to enter.

"C'mon in."

[amaure]

Well, to say all of this is breathtaking would be painting it in a far more positive light than it deserves, and yet Emet finds himself holding in a breath at the sight. It's...not exactly what he expected, not by a long shot, but somehow it...fits Dirk, even if it's a lot to take in all at once.

He's an eccentric man, to say the least, and while he didn't expect to see anthropomorphic pornography blatantly plastered on his walls, nor the strange array of puppets everywhere, he takes it probably far better than one might assume he would. The clutter is not something he expected from him neither, but he does note how impeccably clean everything is. Well, he cannot fully blame him for such mess, if Dirk's mind was anything like his own, there were endless thoughts that made for messes, and his own abode might be similar if he didn't put his ghosts to the task of keeping it all tidy.

A smile is creeping on his face as he walks in, finally taking that breath he seemed to be holding as he steps over a smuppet that's presently in the face-down-ass-up position. His eyebrows raising with amusement as he looks down at it. For being a described "prude" and for all his protesting when it came to physical affection...it's quite clear to him Dirk's a bit of a sex-obsessed dude.

Not that he minds.

"Well, you certainly do not hold back when it comes to your passions, do you?" He asks with clear amusement in his tone, but it's not a cruel sort of amusement, it's not mocking. If anything, he almost sounds endeared by the oddities of his taste. He's about to turn and look at him, but something on the wall catches his eye—a drawing from a hand he's far too familiar with. He freezes and stares at it, his brow furrowing with surprise.

"...Hythlodaeus drew that—I know his artwork anywhere."

Why the hell did Hythlodaeus draw Dirk a horseman...

cw nsfw implied, with apologies to Michelangelo

[uber_marionettist]

This is actually the first time Dirk's had anyone in this room at all besides himself and his Pokemon, but it's not the first time he's received commentary about his cramped and busy lifestyle, and he's ready for the first remark with a one-sided shrug, like it's not worth comment or affect to be the way he is.

There's some truth to that, too; he's really never lived any other way. The size of the room in question changes sometimes, but if a livingspace can be considered representative of its inhabitant, then there's definitely a full Jungian analysis to be found in Dirk's practise of packing the full range of his disparate collection of high-intensity interests and occupations into a single room.

He'd actually half expected Emet to express some level of offence at one part of the scene or another, so his feelings about the whole thing as he closes the door behind him are pretty uncomplicated.

He does pause as Emet recognises Hythlodaeus' gift art, though.

"Yeah. Isn't it magnificent? No words do it justice. I've seen some exquisite art in my day, but this? This is the sublime in two-dimensional monochromatic render. Like if Michelangelo graced us with anything worth jacking it to. I'm thinking of getting it framed."

Look he probably deserves this

[amaure]

What an honor to be the first to enter such a dwelling. Well, one might not see it as such, but it certainly does serve as an intimate display of Dirk's character and interests. Perhaps the fact Dirk has allowed him to come and stay with him is but a show of his good faith towards this relationship of theirs—or maybe this was another test. Either way, it does not bother him.

Dirk's very clear admiration for Hythlodaeus' artwork is warming in its own way. He isn't surprised that Dirk would appreciate art of any caliber, there's a certain way in which he holds himself, in how he presents himself that's rather theatrical. It speaks of the artist that the man is, even if he's ever a strange one—but then again, what artist isn't?

"He has ever been talented in his artistic rendering. Yet, this is but a mere sketch of his, should you see his artistic skill in their true glory—now that would be worth framing." Not to throw shade on this particular drawing, but it's a very apparent rush job, if Emet's ever seen one. Besides, it's on lined paper, and while that adds charm, it does not add much else to the image.

Deciding he'll puzzle out why Hythlodaeus gifted Dirk such art later, he turns his attention back to the puppets and the...smuppets, bringing his hand to his chin to lightly cup it as he regards them, "it would seem you are also a man of artistic persuasion—though I would not have pegged you for a...toymaker."