I'm lost at sea, the radio is jamming

[aojona]

WHO: PABLO ARJONA and YOU!
WHERE: Around Heropa, & Nonah.
WHEN: During the first half of August.
WHAT: Pablo returns to some well-traveled daily and artistic routines, one of which involves walls and spray paint. Also, promotion around a certain cartoon begins.
WARNINGS: Will ETA if necessary!


1 ▸ ＨＥＲＯＰＡ ✿ BEAUTIFYING ON A BUDGET

[ It's been about a month now since Pablo arrived, and so far he's adjusted both pretty well and pretty quickly considering the circumstances; he's an adaptable and easygoing guy overall, but even so, some old habits can still often die hard -- especially ones built up over years of travel and being on and off the road. Therefore, strangely, the hardest thing for Pablo to get used to has been living in a house with people again.

Getting used to living with people who aren't family is even trickier, though he likes his housemates a lot -- he worries a lot about bothering or inconveniencing them simply by taking up the space, and thus has continued spending a lot of his time outdoors. It's summer anyway, and the beach is basically right there.

So, periodically -- not every day, but still plenty -- that's just where he can be found, on or near the beach during the morning or afternoon. Sometimes he's doing more beach-appropriate things like people watching, sketching, or eating, but often he also tends to more mundane grooming and style-improvisation too, to spare expense and in lieu of more convenient (or non-intrusive) alternatives; styling or trimming (or, sometimes, seawater texturing) his bangs in a public bathroom or using his phone camera for a mirror, shaving, mending torn clothing by either sewing up the damage or, if it's too extensive, cutting around it to convert pants into shorts or a t-shirt to sleeveless. It's all very routine, though he still lets himself get creative where he can. ]

2 ▸ ＨＥＲＯＰＡ or ＮＯＮＡＨ ❀ CREATIVELY COMMON

[ Inevitably, though, no matter where they are and no matter what else might be going on in their life, a painter's got to paint. Pablo's gotten a good start on his room, sure, but those aren't the kinds of walls he prefers... and indoor painting pretty quickly becomes dizzying work, with or without open windows.

Street art, of course, involves a lot of planning. Pablo takes his time exploring Heropa and -- later in the month -- Nonah, looking for suitable spaces that are publicly visible, but not so visible that he won't be able to take his time with the work, likely over a span of days or weeks. They aren't related pieces necessarily, not meant to signify anything more than his feelings, hope, protection, and he divides his time between working on them both -- at night, usually, or during parts of the day where the areas are emptier -- so that he doesn't have a predictable routine. After a week or two at work, the Heropa mural* will be a little farther along than the Nonah mural* ( CW: MANY EYES ), but mainly because it's the one he started first.

Still, though, it wouldn't be impossible to find him at work, or somewhere nearby taking a break while still reeking of, if not also spattered with, spray paint.

*Linked images are meant to be approximate references only, not identical. ]

3 ▸ ＨＥＲＯＰＡ or ＮＯＮＡＨ ✿ PROMO COMMOTION

[ Not much tends to faze Pablo, generally -- and even that which does tends not to faze him in a very visible, recognizable way, given how infrequently emotion seems to actually feature in his expressions (well, expression, more often than not, but the point remains).

However... there are still things he has trouble with, and one of those things is notoriety. Strange for an artist, maybe, but there's a reason his mediums are predominantly anonymous ones, or at least "back stage" -- which is something more like a concept artist for a cartoon should be, or would usually be at least, except that since he's an imPort the crew wants to make sure Pablo's involvement is known and his name attached. He'd never complain, but it makes him uneasy. Him being in the spotlight tends to be tense enough when he actually has done something to warrant it, but at least in this situations it would still be his own work to put him there, not someone else's words being translated through him. He's afraid of misrepresenting anyone in ways he doesn't intend to, of speaking for anyone else by accident or otherwise forcing them to bear any burden of responsibility for whatever choices he makes -- but then, it's simply a situation with some history for Pablo, and not necessarily one to which all his reservations will actually apply. After all, it's still a children's cartoon, which rates fairly low on the list of things people will bother you about in the street. Well, ideally, and at least if you aren't an imPort.

Dressed otherwise normally (for him) in various types of shorts usually worn with knee socks or over leggings, Pablo can be found throughout the month wearing also several differently colored variations of the same shirt -- a sleeveless fitted tee with a star-shaped speech bubble on the front that reads: ASK ME ABOUT ＲＥＢＥＣＣＡ ＧＡＬＡＸＹ! and, on the back, what can only be the cartoon's logo. If he looks neutral or unemotional most days, however, any day he's out "promoting" his expression will be more tangibly uncomfortable, as if something's causing him mild physical pain, and he'll be much more reclusive compared to his normal attempts at socializing. He'll answer questions and sign promotional merchandise when he has to, but will then tend to escape if he can -- the corner/end booths in diners have been temporary sanctuaries of sorts, allowing him to duck in for a breather and a tall iced tea or chocolate milk at his own convenience, which he always takes with a straw so he can drink at leisurely pace. ]

♠ ▸ ＷＩＬＤＣＡＲＤ

[ Choose your own adventure! Feel free to make up your own scenario if none of the others quite work, or PM / hit me up on plurk if you'd like a custom starter. ]

Comments

✒ ＳＡＲＩＳＳＡ

[aojona]

[ Offering to help somebody move and actually being able to help them move are, in fact, two very different things -- as Pablo proved with his inability to lift and move furniture at his own (assigned) house, by himself the most he's generally capable of dragging the heavy stuff, and even when trying to move something with another person he folds pretty quickly, with fingers slipping and knees buckling -- so unfortunately for Sarissa, she may find herself primarily on her own in that department when it's moving day (or "still moving in day(s)," as the case may probably be) at least as long as it's just the two of them there.

However, Pablo does have other strengths -- or maybe "uses" would be a more appropriate term -- he can contribute, such as being able to at least move smaller things like chairs and end tables, to help decorate (debatable, though, if someone would want to trust his aesthetics), or to unpack boxes, so give him a task and he'll get right to it! And of course, he's there also to keep her company, since company and conversation can at least help the time pass better when suffering through something like moving.

At the moment he's sitting somewhere out of the way, probably in a corner or on a stair, with some boxes by his feet -- though he's currently experimenting with one of his new powers, braiding together daisies and poppies he made grow into flower crowns. ]

So what made you decide to live alone? [ He glances over in her direction. ] Or was this something you've been planning on for a while?

[magnitudes]

( Thank Christ for enhanced strength, or whatever. And Thank Christ Extra for the fact that she's not really acquired all that much stuff here. A few chunky bits and pieces, and few weird things, a lava lamp. She's pretty confident trusting Pablo with that. Maybe. Mostly.

The real challenge is the furniture being delivered that needs assembling. And the worst part of that is a very large parrot cage she's working on, which has a bunch of panels and that she seems to have lost the directions. Right now she's tempted to just hurl the screws into the distance as she tries to hold some parts together and also screw them together, at the same time. )

I'm not an easy person to live with. Consider it an act of unparalleled fucking generosity, ( she says, scowling as she drops the screw again, and has to scrabble to pick it back up. ) Besides, I can have a spare room here. More space for beer.

( Said with a crooked, self-mocking sort of smile, as she glances over to Pablo. ) You having fun, there?

[aojona]

[ The lava lamp is in good hands, or at least Pablo's enamored by it enough that he would never drop it; it sits close by plugged in but on the floor, at least until he decides where in the place it would belong best. Well, according to his own definition.

The cage Sarissa is busying herself with also fascinates him in a way, although makes him tense in another because he is generally not too fond of birds -- hardly any point in fixating on it at the moment, however. ]

How could you not be easy to live with? [ That probably sounds sarcastic, but he's sincere; another person who is extremely difficult to live with, at least as his track record so far would indicate. ] Actually, I've considered that myself, too -- I just don't want to burden my housemates or anything. And extra space is always... good. But I've also never lived alone, like, in a house.

[ Quite the dilemma. Straight-faced, he answers: ]

Oh, yeah. Which do you like better, daisies or poppies? [ One for her, one for him. Then he adds: ] Do you want me to start unpacking anything?

[magnitudes]

Not everyone can handle being around someone so utterly charming and intelligent. The good looks are just too much for some people, really wears them down. Can't help all the people I bring round, either, some people have issues with all that.

( She says it with absolute sincerity and conviction, as if it were utterly matter of fact. Her own prowess and splendour were as frank and honest an observation as a comment on the periodic table or the colour of the sky might be, and it carries over into the look Sarissa affords Pablo when she looks up. For a couple of seconds, at least, before she smiles crookedly, the tilt of her head and the momentary hitching up of her brows creating the universal picture of, what a load of shit, and her smile just tipping into self-deprecation. )

I'm a self-involved dickhead, mostly. Better in small doses.

( Still, she shrugs. ) Well, let me tell you, living alone is a shitload better than living with Satan. You ever had the Queen of all the circles of Hell asking you why you forgot to do the dishes? Repeatedly?

( Please. She's about to take a breath and continue on reasons why living alone is better than living with Georgia di Carlo, an opera in three acts, when Pablo's question catches up to her and she stops, deflates slightly, and her brow furrows. ) Poppies.

( Of course. And a quiet thinking sound— ) Uh. What to help me unpack the kitchen stuff?

[aojona]

[ Until Sarissa clarifies her sarcasm both facially and verbally, Pablo was frankly ready enough to accept her at her word. It's not like he knows her well enough to determine she isn't any of those things, after all; objectively she's obviously pretty, although Pablo wouldn't necessarily know from charming if it hit him in the face with a baseball bat.

He continues braiding the flower stems together while looking at her as she speaks, maintaining polite visual attention. ]

Well... I mean, a lot of people have a hard time seeing their own good points. We're too close, you know? It's like casting shade over something you need more light to see. So-- [ He shrugs himself. ] Anyway, flaws are never everything. But there can be some benefit to solitude, too.

[ That's what he likes to believe, at any rate; it's very pertinent to how he views people, and the world in general. Besides, it's easier to focus on that than ever try to argue with people about negative self-perceptions, as if he'd know any better. ]

Uh... no. But the only women I've ever lived with were my mom and sisters, and they just kind of got used to me forgetting things. [ A lot... the perils of being easily distracted and periodically absent-minded. ] Yeah. Kitchen sounds great.

[ Especially since he's sure she wouldn't want him going through her personal belongings, but kitchens tend to be pretty straightforward anyway.

He stands, taking a moment to stretch his back and let his knees pop, then puts the daisy crown on his own head before bringing the poppy crown over to Sarissa. He prefers them too, but the whole point is that it's sort of a house-warming... something or other. Gesture? ]

Um, you don't have to keep it if you don't want it.

[justmakeroom]

[ Nonah is a much, much smaller city compared to Atlanta, but in the months she's spent here, Andrea's grown strangely comforted by the similarities. Though lesser in size and total population, Nonah has a vibrancy to it that she didn't realize she'd missed. Sometimes Atlanta felt too busy, too crowded. But then everything went to hell, and she would've given anything to go back to that.

When she's not working, she enjoys exploring the city, taking in all the things she never thought she'd see again, indulging in comfort food even when she has little need to eat much thanks to one of her powers. As she's walking home with a small bag of groceries, she decides to duck down a quieter street she's never explored before. She sees him seemingly done for the day or taking a break, and the smell of spray paint is unmistakable. The mural quickly catches her eyes, and she smirks a little. ]

That's one way to stay busy.

[aojona]

[ Pablo has been taking his time getting to know each different city, only just beginning to really branch out into investigating Nonah after being in Heropa for about a month; even then, "investigating" in this case has mostly meant coming up to paint, rather than physically exploring. He's been around a little bit, sure, getting a feel for the city and the people but not really inserting himself too much -- he sees his purpose not to indulge, but to observe.

Though he's put his paint cans away already the scent still lingers strongly in the area, and paint's dotting his clothes, hair, and even glasses -- it's pretty obvious the mural is freshly worked on. Pablo should have probably considered that before sitting himself down nearby for his break, but he's not sure if he's done yet; he needs to stare at it from a distance, consider it from as objective a perspective as he can manage, and he's so deep in this contemplation that he doesn't see or notice Andrea at all until she speaks.

If he's startled or nervous to see her, it doesn't show; still sitting, he turns his head to look at her. He's silent for a long few seconds, then turns back to look at the mural, then back again to her. ]

Well... it's definitely the only one I know of that really works, at least. [ But he nods, like he agrees with her. ] Um -- what do you think of it so far?

[justmakeroom]

[ Andrea was never this creative, having more of an analytical mind even as a kid growing up. That had served her well in her tenure as a lawyer, of course, and then it didn't matter much at all when the world ended. The only thing that really mattered was how good you were with a gun, and surviving out in the world.

The work he's done so far isn't something likely to ever be seen hanging up in the Louvre, but to Andrea, it's beautiful. It's the kind of beauty that curls down deep into her bones, like something she never thought she'd see again. No one in their world has time for this anymore; it's blood and death, everything's dark and bleak. So as she takes it in, it becomes more and more important to her, and there's a soft smile on her face. ]

I think it's really good. Do you do a lot of these?

[aojona]

[ It's not often Pablo is in the presence of someone admiring his work while he's there -- usually he prefers to offer it up to the world anonymously and let people take what they will from it, because he's developed a certain unease with being known for anything, even unrelated to the fact it's technically not that legal. The art could be revealing in its own subtle ways, after all, and thus upsetting to anyone else who might be close enough to him that it wouldn't just be his experiences reflected in paint on public walls.

But this is different. Of course it is, it'd have to be -- they don't know each other, and she actually likes it. Incredibly. Pablo feels an odd sense of relief spread through his chest and relax his shoulders, not because he feels flattered (per se) but because he's happy if it made her happy, even if only slightly. ]

Thank you. [ His expression doesn't change much, but for a moment a slight smile twitches the corners of his lips. ] I do, actually, though don't tell anyone. I mean... well, a few. Just whenever I'm inspired.

[ He stands, walking toward the wall and tracing the air in front of one of the painted columns of eyes, hesitantly explaining: ]

See, eyes are, um... a protective symbol, and I figured protection is something we all need, always. That, and guidance in unfamiliar circumstances. [ He pauses. ] Sorry if that sounds weird.

heropa mural

[textualhealing]

[The evenings are the perfect time for a jog away from the blazing sun and potential crowds of imPort lovers (and haters). Jeff makes it somewhat of a ritual after finishing work, stripping out of his stifling suit and into a comfortable pair of shorts and t-shirt with the eagerness of a man who knows he's got an evening to get away from the stresses of the day.

There's a couple of dogs in tow, one drooling bulldog that doesn't look cut out for the jog he's forced to partake in, and a collie/retriever who looks like he'd be happy running for days. They make quite the trio as they cut through the Heropa streets as dusk settles, just about managing to keep an even pace between the three of them, no leashes in sight.

The painter is enough to Jeff slowing to a halt a few feet away, the bulldog almost immediately dropping to the floor in relief, panting away, while the other pup investigates the area with some eager sniffing. Jeff's looking at both the painter and the mural, doing some investigating of his own without getting too close.]

You got a licence for that, pal? [Sounding less like an interrogating cop and more like someone with a distant curiosity.]

[aojona]

[ Regardless of the tone, Jeff's presence still startles Pablo, and the question makes him freeze; Pablo doesn't move, or turn, or even say anything for as long as maybe two or three minutes, at which point his painting arm slowly lowers. He turns his head to look at Jeff with a fairly neutral expression, but there's uneasy tension that stiffens his back and arms, perhaps noticeably so.

Jeff doesn't look like a cop or anything -- and honestly if he was this would probably already be A Situation regardless of how Pablo were to answer or not answer him -- with dogs in tow and in his jogging clothes, but that doesn't necessarily make Pablo overthink how to respond any less. How do you answer a question like that?

He takes a step back, looking at the painting again before turning his head to look back at Jeff. ]

Uh... I doubt it. Sorry -- this isn't your wall, is it?

[textualhealing]

[He sure is glad this guy doesn't choose to keep ignoring him, because Jeff hates to be ignored. But here they are! Conversing like civilised people who don't ignore each other, avoiding all the hassle of Winger sulking like a toddler not getting attention.]

Nope. But you're doing a huge favour to whoever does own it. I'll take that over piss soaked walling any day. [Jabbing a finger towards the wet paint with approval, and, with all the smoothness of a sleight-of-hand magician, extending his other hand while taking a slow step forward to offer out a business card, his pointing finger lowering.]

Hi, Jeff Winger. Lawyer and famous TV star, exactly the kind of guy you'll need with all this street painting. [Trust him! He's a lawyer :D]

[aojona]

[ Sorry, Jeff, you may have to deal with a lot of that in your future; Pablo doesn't ignore people per se, but it certainly can seem like it when he goes abruptly silent or remains unresponsive for spans of time -- usually no longer than a few minutes, at least. ]

Oh. Um, thank you.

[ That's... maybe a compliment? But Pablo is easily satisfied, flattery ("flattery") or no. He squints a little at the offered business card, as if trying to figure out what it even is for a few seconds. ]

Wait, you're a lawyer...? [ He's not sure what to make of this. ] Do you really think I'll need one? This is a really nice business card, I don't think I could afford you-- I've only ever had the, um... you know, like, the ones they assign you. When you can't afford a lawyer.

[ He looks at the card again, blinking, turning it over to get a better look. ]

What do you do on TV?

wildcard bc I'm just moving our log to here after all

[jacksonian]

[ True to his word, Mark sends a driver to pick Pablo up. He could have gone to pick him up himself, admittedly. After all, he can drive, he has a car, he wasn't busy...But artists are supposed to be impressive, classy people, right? Mark has never met or known an artist, but he's pretty sure that's the case, and that if you're the sort of person who supports artists you're also supposed to be really cool and impressive. And cool impressive people don't pick other people up themselves; they send employees to do it.

Right?

He has no idea what he's doing.

So he sends the car, which brings Pablo to the Residence - a sprawling estate in rural De Chima. Mark is there to meet him - looking impressive(ish) in his well-tailored black suit and his pocket square and his expensive cufflinks of brown wood and silver metal, all of that working hard to obscure the fact that he's - well. Well below five feet tall. And rotund. And quite funny-looking. And seventeen. ]

Mr. Arjona. Hello.

\(｡✪‿✪｡)ง

[aojona]

[ If impressive and classy is what Mark is expecting, Pablo may present an underwhelming first impression. While Mark is looking sleek and tailored in his suit, Pablo's clothes are both a bit rumpled and not the least bit fancy; he's wearing a black sweatband with white polka dots around his head to keep the hair out of his face, a pink-and-white striped cardigan, and jean shorts over faded blue leggings.

He steps out of the car carefully, his messenger bag -- loaded up with different kinds of paints -- hanging off one shoulder and a sketchbook under arm, and takes a moment to look around at the enormously impressive estate before his gaze finally rests on Mark. A little nervously, his fingers tighten their grip on his bag's shoulder strap, before finally he responds: ]

Hi. [ He says it in a normal tone of voice but hesitantly, not knowing how to act in such an extravagant environment. Both of them have no idea what they're doing, in other words. ] It's nice to finally meet you. I, um... sorry I'm not also wearing a suit, but I don't own any.

Uh, but-- thanks for inviting me up here. Hopefully I can do at least something that you'll like.

[jacksonian]

[ Mark, in turn, looks at Pablo in confusion. ]

Why would you wear a suit?

[ And then he shakes his head. From his point of view, Pablo actually looks perfect: eccentric and odd and a little stupid, like an artist is supposed to. An artist showing up in a suit would be devastating, actually. Completely incorrect.

He turns, then, and gestures for Pablo to follow him. He has an awkward, slightly bowlegged step, but his short stride is fairly brisk. He gestures to the palatial estate. ]

As you can tell, the Residence is relatively new. We just built it about two months ago, replacing our old house, which was damaged. It's the primary residence, now, of Emperor Gregor Vorbarra of Barrayar, as well as Lord Aral Vorkosigan, the Lord Regent and later Prime Minister of Barrayar. [ A beat. ] Timelines have complicated titles somewhat. Obviously an adult emperor doesn't need a regent. [ He glances over at Pablo, uncertain if any of this...makes any sense. ] Our construction team did a very fine job, but they were not artists themselves. And so we find ourselves in need of something to make the place a bit less austere.

[aojona]

Uh-- well, I don't know, I just got worried that I might be underdressed. But if I'm not, then... I guess there's no problem.

[ His shoulders roll in a casual shrug, the anxiety -- if there was any -- seemingly lifted from him completely; Pablo doesn't know what Mark's criteria or logic is here, but as long as there isn't a problem then he's content.

Pablo follows, his head turning in whichever direction Mark gestures in. ]

It's beautiful. [ Stated with dry admiration. Then: ] Oh, I think I met him -- um, the Emperor? We talked a little bit about the history of his... your? people, he's a really interesting guy. So all of you live here together?

[ Whether or not that's a respectful way to refer to Gregor is so out of Pablo's wheelhouse it doesn't even occur to him, nor does he know what a regent is. But, he doesn't want to seem stupid by asking. ]

I'm happy to do what I can. I, uh-- did have a few ideas, but I might rethink some of it now that I can actually see the building.

2. nonah, creatively common.

[bosewicht]

Hi.

[ A stranger speaks up from somewhere behind Pablo while he's busy laying paint to wall, because trust Sylar to intrude on someone's artistic endeavours in what seems to be an effort to do a nice thing. A nice thing made manifest in two clear, domed cups, clutched in each hand, recognisably affiliated with a cafe only a couple of buildings down. He is dressed in streamlined black, himself, a little jarringly severe on a summery street full of appropriately summery people. His prescription glasses are bold and black-framed and skinny armed, riding high on the bridge of his nose.

He offers out one of the cups, once he has Pablo's attention. ]

It's iced tea. I'm a recent convert.

[ His gaze, steady and kind of just naturally intense, switches back to gazing at the progressing mural. ]

[aojona]

[ Pablo jolts very slightly, startled from his focus, but he doesn't otherwise react immediately or noticeably except to freeze, continuing to just stand where he is facing the wall for almost a minute. Then, once it seems like this is not 1) an aggressive conversation, like someone objecting to his subject matter or location or the activity altogether, or 2) a police officer, Pablo turns his head to acknowledge the man speaking.

He looks at him for a couple more silent seconds, curious, though it doesn't show in his expression. Then his gaze shifts to the cups of iced tea, one of which he hesitantly accepts as offered. ]

Thank you. Um, what's this for?

[ It's a thoughtful though confusing gesture, at least to Pablo, who can't see why he in particular would be deserving of a free drink from a mysterious handsome stranger. He pushes up his own glasses -- similarly bold, though the frames he's wearing today are bright orange -- and blinks once, looking again from tea to person before he speaks again.

He never really knows what to say about his paintings, which is another part of why he tries to keep them anonymous (easier said than done, obviously), so instead he looks over Sylar's all-black ensemble. ]

Aren't you hot in that?

[bosewicht]

A little.

[ Spoken like a man who is too committed to the #aesthetic to mind that much, returning his hand to his own tea once he's offloaded one of them onto the stranger -- he grasps the straw in his and pokes at the ice within. ]

It looks like thirsty work, [ he says, in answer to the first query. His tone is light, a little frivolity warmer within a natural monotony. He can, sometimes, lay off the intensity. ] More so than my employer who sent me to get these. When I left, she was getting an apprentice to do her cuticles.

[ True story. ]

Is it supposed to be something?

oh god so late I'm sorry /)_(\

[aojona]

[ Dedication to one's #aesthetic is not something Pablo has much room to judge, if he were ever one for judging in the first place -- counter to Sylar's commitment to black, Pablo favors bright colors and shorts, such as those that he's wearing today. Granted, they're a little more weather appropriate... but only for now.

He nods slowly, now taking a careful sip from the drink. It's not that he distrusts either it or Sylar, but mostly still doesn't understand the meaning behind the offered tea completely. Just a friendly guy, maybe? Hard to complain about friendliness.

Pablo doesn't smile, but there's a smile somehow implied a bit in his otherwise nearly blank expression. ]

Yeah -- well, at least it can be. I've been mostly touching things up today, so... [ He gestures around the painting with his free hand. ] Hasn't been too bad. But thank you, this is, um. It's really good.

[ He already said thank you, but you know... whatever. Pablo nods again. ]

Sort of. Eyes can be like, protective, you know? So I wanted to take the image from my head and share it with whoever else might need it, too.

1.

[matadorable]

[As it turns out, the beach is one of Manolo's favorite places to go. The way the sunlight glitters across the water reminds him of home, and he loves the warm sand between his toes and Maria's comforting hand wrapped in his as they go for strolls together during his off time.

Today, though, he's alone, guitar slung over his shoulder as he scouts for a place to sit. Manolo's large, dark eyes light up the moment he spots a face he's gradually growing to know rather well on account of living together. With a warm, disarming smile, he waves and approaches him.]

Buenos días, Pablo. You like coming here too?

[aojona]

[ If it takes a few moments for Pablo to respond -- to look over, or react in any other visible way -- it's not because he's ignoring Manolo, or even that he didn't hear him, but that something's going through his mind that needs to reach its destination first before he can focus his attention elsewhere.

Manolo's already greeted him and walked over by the time Pablo finally blinks slowly and turns his head, but he also smiles -- a much more muted one in comparison -- and raises his hand in greeting. ]

Hola, Manolo. How are you?

[ Pablo doesn't stand up, though he motions that Manolo can sit down next to him if he'd like to. Then he nods his head once, thoughtfully. ]

Yeah... it's beautiful, isn't it? The last couple of years I've just felt sort of at home on beaches.

[matadorable]

[If his roommate's delayed response unsettles him, he certainly doesn't show it. Instead, Manolo smiles when Pablo wordlessly invites him to sit down beside him, accepting it with ease as he shifts the guitar into his arms and settles down onto the bench.]

Oh yeah? Did you grow up near the water, then? Or is your heart just drawn toward beaches?

[aojona]

Not really. I mean, like, not oceans... I can't even really swim that well, but since I left home I've visited a lot of beaches. They're just sort of inspiring, I guess.

[ And you can sleep on them if you don't have anywhere else to stay if you're smart about it. More comfortable than most other available alternatives.

But more importantly: ]

What about you? What's your favorite thing about the beach?