Empty Canvas; Broken World

The silence stretched out in the small flat. Feliks sat in the darkness, staring at the blank canvas, brush in hand, but nothing coming to the white page. He could feel it in the clenching of his fingers, the twitching of his jaw.

There was something that needed to be done, a store to be told. A picture to be painted. But there was nothing that he could say, nothing that he could do. He was qualified for such actions, he was capable of-of-of...

Feliks had lived a life of a certain type of person, and it was not the type of person that succeeded. It wasn't of a man who had a family, who supported those he cared about, and was a pillar of a community. He was just a school bully - the runt of a family that no one believed in. His music was uninspired, repetitive and transnational. And his art...

Where was the future in art? The point of finger drawings. Perhaps if he had any talent, than he might have stood a chance, but his stick figures, devoid of life and emotion wouldn't get him anywhere. He would just be the person who picked on those smaller than him because he was too afraid to strive father. He would be the man who let others pay for him because he didn't have the talent to create money with what he wanted to do, and he didn't have the skill to get a normal job.

How many times had he been held back? He should have graduated years ago, and instead he hadn't ended up graduating at all.

The can that he held in his other hand crushed suddenly, the crinkling metal filling the room, and the smell of the beer that had been in it wafted around him as the cold liquid stuck to his hand. He barely reacted.

The night was silent, everyone else was asleep, and Feliks Chmerkovskiy was forced to see the truth.

He was a waste of a human being, and he didn't have any skills to turn that fact around.

Karma leaned against the doorway of their bedroom, watching him with an expressionless gaze. Her bottom lip found its way between her teeth, and the fidgeting she had been doing stopped. Pulling the door closed behind her, she moved toward him, the t-shirt she'd been given all that time ago brushing against her bare legs as she went to stand beside him. The scent of alcohol was almost stifling to her super scent, but she ignored it to watch his expression.

"It's late." She murmured, looking at the blank canvas. She reached passed him, running a hand across the paper and offering a soft smile. "Blank canvas, new beginnings and all that."

Without further ado, she perched on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck to curl up against him. She frowned slightly, wrinkling her nose. "You smell like alcohol." She observed. "Stinks."

He didn't react to her approach, in fact it seemed like he didn't hear it at all, though he was aware of every step that she took, every movement that she made. His gaze followed her fingers across the canvas, and for a brief moment he could almost see what was meant to be there, the story the page was supposed to be telling, but then as quickly as it had appeared it was gone again, and he was left with a blank canvas that only said one thing.

It rang the words of his brothers, father, though less often, even his sisters. He was nothing but a failure.

His arms wrapped around her without a single thought about doing it, or that there even was a way to do the contrary. He found himself with a person on his lap, so it seemed natural to bring them closer. Their was definitely a haze in his brain; Feliks may not have been outright drunk, but he had enough of a buzz to not behave as he normally would. It had been what had tipped his thoughts so dramatically negitive.

"Sorry," he murmured, voice soft as he continued to look at the blank white image that was in front of him. He still hadn't put down the cracked can down, "You smell like," he paused for a moment, collecting the thoughts, "Warmth, and spice. Like," his head turned slightly almost nuzzling her as he tried to pick out the scent he was looking for, "Karma." Although an obvious statement, the way the word came out of his mouth, once could believe it was the best thing in the world to smell like.

She knew he was only doing it because he was intoxicated, and his judgement was... altered. Pulling her closer... that wasn't something he would do, not if he was sober. She let him, however, because him drunk - even a little - was giving her access to the Liks no one ever saw, the one she only caught glimpses of herself. Karma Black was a selfish creature, she knew it herself. Relaxing into his hold was on her own account, even if she told herself that it was because she was being held and not because he was the one holding her. She let him pull her closer because it would make him feel better, not because it felt... Familiar. New.

That didn't make sense.

Karma's fingers traced Feliks's jaw, feeling the rough new growth of stubble and the soft skin beneath it. For a reason that escaped her, she was almost... pleased with his statement. "I should, being a Karma and all." She teased, despite both the shiver that accompanied his touch and the slight blush that reddened her cheeks. "Just like you should smell like a Feliks, but you don't." She pouted. "Imagine I came home and didn't smell like Karma. How would you feel?"

She frowned at him, voice only slightly chastising, more confused, though if she was playing at it, it was unclear to even her. "Why?" She asked, reaching for the cracked can and tugging at it in a gentle attempt to take it from him. "Why are you drinking?"

Letting out a soft grunt, he leaned into her touch just slightly, brushing against the caressing fingers and missing them once they were gone. It was a strange reaction that in any other circumstance he wouldn't have understood - in the morning once he had slept this off, he would have struggle to figure out what he thought he was doing (would probably write it off as intoxication) but for the moment he was okay with just going with what was going on.

Resting his chin on her shoulder he took in a deep breath, just to confirm to himself that even in the three seconds it had been since he last check, that she did still smell like herself. Her words had sunk into his head and confused him for the moment. "It would be... off; strange." He made a face, grunting slightly again and shaking his head, "I wouldn't like it."

The man didn't put up any protest as she pulled at the useless can he had been holding. In a way it was a relief to be freed of the responsibility to hold it. His hand was still coated in the liquid though, drying and causing his hand to become sticky. He supposed he should clean it off, however that sounded like effort, and Feliks couldn't remember the spell he should be using for that.

"I was-" he frowned, his gaze unfocused against the white canvas as he tired to remember first the question, and then the answer. He didn't recall why he was drinking. He thought it had something to do with-with, "I saw Maks today." He was pretty sure it was Maksim... though with his fuzzy memory it could have been his twin. In the end it didn't matter which wonder twin he spoke to - the fact was he talked to one of them.

"I don't like it either." She admonished softly, though her tone was far from as reprimanding as it could be. Gently, her fingers traced up his jawline again, before her hand fell into her lap and stayed there. "So before you come to bed, you'll have to get a shower."

The can crumpled easily between her fingers, dripping onto her hands only for a moment before she threw it across the room, the resounding swish as it sunk into the trash can audible even from the distance. Taking his hand in hers, she rose it to her face, sniffing at it before using the shirt she was wearing to wipe at it almost unconsciously. Most of the stench was emanating from there anyway, it made the most sense to wipe it away.

"Maks?" She was suddenly tense, her hold on his hand tightening slightly as this information presented itself to her. "Is that the one I punched?" She asked, in an attempt to bring their collective mood back up, if only for an instant. "What happened?"

"Sorry," he murmured absent-mindedly, though there was a note in his voice that stated that he actually meant it. Which was an odd sound coming out of the man's mouth - that wasn't what he was use to doing. Even when he felt sorry, he didn't often show it. In his drunken state he wondered why? What would it hurt to be sorry about something? What was he going to lose?

Why couldn't he be sorry?

Again he seemed to feel the absences of her hand, and again he didn't understand why it mattered. Reaching over with his now clean hand, he grabbed her hands in his own, holding it up so he could look at her fingers. Slowly he bent them down so that they were intertwined with his own. Frowning he continued to look at them.

Smirking he turned his head slightly, "Punched Maks, flirted with Val." Humming to himself, he strummed his fingers softly against her hands. Taking in a deep breath, "What else? Maks was Maks and I am useless, and a failure."

"You don't have to be sorry." She said softly, her voice almost chastising in itself. There was more to it, however, there was a soft sort of reprimanding tenderness that flickered across her face. "Just be Liksie. That's all I ever ask."

Something in her chest constricted at the look on his face, her fingers tightening around his. It was the something in her chest that made her lean forward and press a kiss to their entangled fingers, and nothing else that she would admit to. "I wasn't flirting." She teased, laying her head on his shoulder. "I was playing."

"There's nothing wrong with you!" The words were vehement in their passion, and his face was suddenly in her free hand, eyes on his. "You are not useless! You aren't a failure either!" Her voice dropped to a whisper, and the burn that suddenly appeared behind her eyes at the mention of his brother intensified. "Why don't you believe me?"

"Liksie can be sorry, can't he?" Feliks's voice was oddly detached. He felt like he may have actually been speaking of a different person - as if he was a different person at this moment then he would be in his normal day. "Is it so strange for him to be sorry?" He began to frown then, the problem, the question that he had been asking himself only moments before came spilling out of his mouth in this odd third person line of thought, "Why can't he be sorry?"

He looked at the hand, skin tingling slightly from her touch. He frowned, the question of why she did that oddly on the tip of his tongue before he forgot about it, let it die in favour for another statement instead, "I don't think Vally found it too fun." The tone in his voice stated that Feliks still did - find it fun, or at least funny.

He looked back at her with a quiet unreadable expression. Her words had been said before, and he had absorbed them. Given her the answers that she wanted to hear at the time - or just avoided the statements, but now he had no filter, no ability to really stop the truth from tumbling out of his mouth. It was a awful, vulnerable sort of feeling that he most certainly could do without.

"I was held back... three times Tyurma; I didn't even finish." He waved a hand at the empty canvas. "Can't even finish a painting."

"Of course Liksie can be sorry, if he wants to be." She murmured, tucking her head beneath his chin and curling further into him. "Liksie can be whatever he wants, as long as it makes him happy." Her fingers trailed over the collar of his shirt, touch exceedingly gentle. "Doesn't he know that?"

"You liked it." Her voice was suddenly happier, though that didn't make much sense, not in the current situation. She tilted her head back slightly, brushing her forehead lightly against his rough jawline.

"You have artist's block. It's perfectly normal." She argued, keeping her voice to a whisper if only to stop her from shouting and waking Adrian. "You weren't held back because you were a failure." She whispered, pulling back to gaze into his eyes. "You were held back because you decided that classes were beneath you, not because you're an idiot, and definitely not because you're failure. You chose to."

"Just like you don't want to finish this painting." She reached out to attempt to touch it, but with both of her hands occupied - one clasped in his and the other resuming its pastime of stroking his jaw. "You can, and you will, you just don't want to." Her voice lowered, as if divulging a secret. "You don't think Liksie deserves to paint anymore, do you?"

His arms folded more securely around her, his head nuzzling into the top of hers just slightly. Her touch was so distracting, causing his brain to focus on it rather than the words that he wanted to say. He didn't even know what those words were, but at the moment he couldn't seem to get them to come out. "What if he wants to be appreciated. Wants to be wanted? Is he allowed to be that?" He wasn't sure where these words were coming from. The part of his brain that these thoughts belong to had been shut down long ago - probably with the death of his mother - they only came out in flashes when he painted, through his art. Most days Feliks forget they even existed. But tonight, he had just drunk enough to let go of his pride. Tonight he had found the key for those thoughts, "What if he wants to be loved?"

Her words should have been comforting, and to an extent they were, but his mind was prepared for them. Feliks was good at finding loopholes to her solutions - he was smart enough to do that. "Isn't not going still failure?" His hand had found the past time of running along the side of her arm. His gaze went back to his blank canvas.

Did he not deserve to paint any more?

"Who deserves to do what they do not succeed at?"

She gave a soft sigh, relaxing into his hold and closing her eyes briefly. This was… nice. It was a right shame he wouldn’t allow her this close sober. She blinked that thought away as she reopened her eyes, fingers still playing lightly with his collar. “Of course he is.” She answered, the words rising to her lips before she could stop them. “You already are.” Her voice shrunk slightly, and she turned her head slightly, not hiding – why would she hide? Her? Never! – but simply… not meeting his eyes. “You don’t think I appreciate you?”

Karma shifted her weight slightly, uncomfortable by the thoughts forcing their way out her mouth. “I’m sure you’ll find a nice human girl to love you, Liks.” She said, trying and failing to sweep the bitterness that filled her at that thought under the metaphorical rug. As it was, only a sliver of it found its way into her voice. “You probably had your own fair share of admirers at Durmstrang.” Her fingers trailed down his jawline one more time before it fell back to her lap and decided it would stay there. Her other hand wasn’t as lucky, still trapped in his, and still as distracting.

“Besides, Adrian and- Adrian loves you.”

“Einstein failed Math.” She pointed out, voice deadly quiet. “You decided that you couldn’t be bothered with school rather than go along with what everyone else was buying. That makes you brave, not a failure.” She shrugged. “If you wanted a career that needed education, I’m sure you would have stayed, but you’re an artist, and that stuff is completely unnecessary.”

She gave a frustrated huff, squirming slightly. “You do succeed at it, but since my opinion obviously doesn’t matter to you, I’ll have to go with someone else’s.” She frowned, looking away from him. “But not until your sober, and have slept this off.”

Feliks hummed slightly in response to her words. It was a sound of thanks, though the older boy couldn't find the words to articulate it better than he already had. So he left it as there was. After all, what was wrong with humming? He always appreciated humming - it was musical, what was wrong with musical.

"Lust is different than love Tyurma," Feliks smirked slightly, the sound behind his voice not as amused as his face might have said so. "There wasn't much to value; and why does she have to be human? Hmm?" He wasn't really sure why he was picking on her word choice, but there was just something about it. Why was the specification needing to be made at all? "Adrian's..." Feliks didn't know what he was going to say about his son, he didn't have the words so he just smiled instead. A true and genuine expression that lit up his face.

"Brave? For giving up?" That was a new one he hadn't heard before. He wasn't sure if he believed in it or not.

His interest was peaked by this wording that was for sure. Though he recalled her words from before and didn't wish to get up, "The shower is too far away."

Reminding herself that his humming wasn't something she was supposed to be focusing on, she snorted slightly. "Is it? Really?" She asked, gazing down at her nails. "Everyone says that, but no one's proven it yet."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and she looked up at him. "Because my son will not be around vampires, or werewolves, or fae, demons, angels, merpeople and/or anything even half of any of those things." Something flashed across her expression, some wariness that was bone deep and terrifying. "Not even that half of me."

"Would I lie to you?" She asked seriously, setting her face into a mock-glare.

She had to hold back a giggle, and even then it slipped between the fingers she hastily brought to her lips. "Well, I hate to point this out, Liksie, but after you pass through that door way I can't help you. ...Unless I join you - which isn't going to happen, you're drunk - you're going to have to figure out how to shower on your own. If you do it fast enough you'll be in bed in time to make sure my scent doesn't change in the middle of the night like it usually does."

Despite her words, she hesitated briefly before turning in his lap so her back was to his front, squirming just slightly before rising from her seat. She pulled slightly on his hand, tightening her hold on it to help him to his feet. "Come on, Liksie. Shower, then bed and possible scent checking, and then a surprise in the morning." Once he was standing, she slowly lead the way over to the bathroom door - barely ten steps away, but she wasn't pointing that out - and stopped just to the right of it.

"Here we are." She announced grandly, as if this had actually been a journey. She was maddeningly aware of the fact that she'd have to let go of his hand now, but elongated it by pausing and playing with his fingers. "Hurry back, and for the love of Merlin don't drown."

"Lust created Adrian," Feliks murmured softly, "Actual love would have meant I never needed to know he existed." It was a fact that Feliks understood the moment he had found the child on his door step. Adrian's mother - the woman who gave birth to him - did not love him. Perhaps that was part of the reason he had never been able to give the child up. The thought of no one loving him - no mother or father - was too much for him to think of.

It was an impulse that he didn't understand, and didn't have the ability to stop. As she looked up with that glare, and then something else, Feliks felt he had nothing else to do but bring his lips to hers. A quick soft kiss and then pulling away, blinking - his expression seemed to say that that never happened, or if it did, it wasn't something remarkable. It was just something, "No part of you would ever be bad to him. You love him too much; its why you stay around."

Reluctantly he let go of her hand and disappeared into the bathroom. Shedding his clothes he slipped into the shower, allowing the warm liquid to pull him back into some level of consciousness. He lingered longer than he usually would before stepping out and grabbing a towel. Wrapping the soft material around his waist he leaned onto the sink and wiped the steam away from the mirror, glancing back at his refection for as long as it took for the steam to fog up the area again.

Rolling his shoulders he pushed open the bathroom door and looked around the darkness of the flat, completely unconcern with the way that his skin began to react to the cool draft of the open room. After a moment, he turn and went back towards his room, sober enough to open the door quietly. Closing it behind him he paused where he was looking in the darkness. Moving towards the crib Feliks hovered by it, still keeping his distance. For the moment he just wanted to look at the sleeping boy - he wanted to see the only right thing he had done.

At some point in the walk the towel had lessoned and fallen completely off, but the man hadn't noticed. Rolling his shoulders again he looked around the floor before shaking his head, and grabbing a pair of boxers from the drawer instead. With that completed his drowsy brain turned towards the bed and flopped down. He hardly noticed his body curl towards the other person upon it before he was already asleep.

"Well I suppose lust is good for more than the obvious then." She remarked lightly, keeping the violence that seeped into her at the very mention of Adrian's other mother out of her voice. "Both me and Beda are very happy that it wasn't love."

The surprised inhalation she took as he pulled away from kissing her - so quickly she hadn't even had the chance to close her eyes - stopped her from responding, a slight blush spreading over her cheeks as she gazed up at him, lips still slightly parted in- in- she called it shock. Her gaze followed him as he disappeared, his words sinking in long after his actions had.

Shaking her head and running her hand through her hair, she turned back toward the bedroom, silently placing the stool back where it belonged and easing the easel and canvas back in their proper place. Padding into the bedroom, she checked on her son - it was the first thing either of them did when entering really - and placed a kiss on his forehead. Without a thought about it, she climbed onto the bed, snuggling under the covers on her side before deigning to kick them off and curl up on her side of the bed.

She had almost fallen asleep when something told her he had entered, peeking up at him only to find herself shutting her eyes tight after only a glimpse and blushing furiously. Merlin, couldn't the man put on some damn clothing?

She tensed slightly as his arms wrapped around her, but relaxed after a small sigh, closing her eyes and moving slightly closer as she drifted off to sleep.

SKIP TO MORNING CAUSE I AM MAGICAL AND CAN!

Rolling his shoulders - even in his sleep he seems to do it - the man's breathing remained even. The soft drifting scent of the person he had some how managed to curl around, was warm in his nose, spreading to his brain and perhaps causing the smile on his face. Or perhaps that was just the bliss of sleep.

The bliss that was shattered by first a soft mew, then a sharp cry. Adrian had woken up, and as he was ever morning, quite tired of his caged state. Groggier than usual the noise seemed to seep into his brain harder, louder.

Feliks was hungover. Not a lot, to be sure - he could easily hid it if he wished, but he was enough so to cause such sudden and loud noises to create pain. Wincing he let out the softest of groans and buried his face deeper into whatever it had formerly been up against.

Which happened to be Karma's hair.

"Tyurmaaaa."

There was nothing that could quite wake you up like the cry of your own child, the pleasant dreams that had been eluding the brunette for so long evaporated in the wake of consciousness. She shifted slightly in response to the cries, a low sound of complaint slipping from her throat before she whistled softly, causing the light weight on the end of their bed to make the leap to the edge of the crib, thereby distracting their child enough to stop his cries and instead replace them with baby-ish greetings and good-mornings to the familiar.

Once the cries died down, it was easier to take stock in where she was, instinct kicking in the moment she was a bit more awake, though most of her tried to go back to sleep. Something had tightened around her waist just before her name rebounded around her, muffled by her hair. "Liksie." She murmured distractedly, shifting again and attempting to stretch out. Her legs were only able to move a short distance before they met resistance, and her back as well. It was with a disgruntled sort of confusion that she realized that the arms tightening around her weren't her own, but hers were placed lightly on top, almost as if keeping the other pair there. The hand that rested on her side had splayed its fingers, easily allowing her to slip into the spaces, and that arm didn't want to move.

All in all, it turned out that she was curled ever so slightly in a ball, and couldn't exactly find the means to move out of it without hitting the warm wall of someone else.

The fingers - the ones not connected to her stubborn, unmoving arm - moved in an almost lazy motion, trailing up one of the arms beneath her own as she shifted again, attempting to find an end or spacing in her warm confinement but finding none - the arm disappeared over her side and promptly became an elbow - didn't seem to upset her. In fact, the effect was quite the opposite. "Can't move." she observed tiredly, stating the fact without any indication to whether she wanted him to do something about it or not. it was difficult to discern what was actually going on when she'd woken up like this, but after a moment it occurred to her that the reason he felt so warm was because his arms were resting on skin, not shirt, and an undemanding attempt to stretch her legs again forced her to recognize the sensation of skin on skin along with the fact that her - or well... his... - shirt had ridden up to bare her stomach.

It was then that the fact which she'd known all along came into startlingly clear focus.

The warm wall, the arms, the scent that drifted into her nose... It was all...

"Liksie..." She whined, curling further into him and turning slightly into his chest as she tilted her head back to get a one eyed look at him. " 's your turn." She murmured, ignoring the lie in favor of not having to move.

"Too bad," the man murmured to her moving statement. His parental morals - the only thing that had been motivating him to move even the slightest bit, had ended the second the crying had stopped. Adrian was content where he was with the familiar, it was hardly like he could get into any trouble from there - why should he have to move from where he was nice and comfortable.

Comfortable? That thought woke him slightly more, sending a curious sort of satisfaction which quickly turned to more confusion. The evenings events played in the back of his head, explaining how they ended up here, and he couldn't quite protest that it was wrong.

In fact...

He didn't finish that in fact before he was snorting at her comment, shaking his head and accidently bringing them closer.

"Nice try, Tyurma. Ain't that hungover. I can still remember what I did yesterday. Y'r turn."

Another low sound, this one more contentment than complaint, slipped from her throat as she opened both eyes to look at him, gaze sweeping him curiously. "You rememberehsterday, do you?" She grinned, turning a bit more in his arms in another attempt to meet his eyes. "All of it?" Her voice went from tired to teasing, as if thewas some big joke with an obvious punchline.

"How am I supposed to take my turn if I-" she shifted again, rocking her hips back in asome sort of an attempt to change position, "can't-" her body twisted, somehow bringing them chest to best, "-move?"

They were suddenly in motion, rolling one over the other with his arms still firmly around her, from her side of the bed to his. They stopped quite suddenly with her beneath him, her eyebrow furrowing slightly in confusion as she found them nose to nose. "Huh." She huffed, squirming slightly beneath his weight and warmth. "Well... That achieved nothing."

Letting out a slight murmur, he started to speak, "That's your prob-"

He was cut off by her movements, stiffening as his still slightly groggy brain wasn't expecting the movement. Finding himself coming to a stop on top of her, he raised an eyebrow, "-blem."

Not making any move to relocate, Feliks in fact picked up a hand and lazily pushed a strain of hair back out of her face, before he stopped to run his hand through it instead. Leaning his head down, brushing his nose against her, and his breath hot and warm on her own lips he smirked slightly, "I do happen to remember all of it." And suddenly he was pushing back, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his back as he pulled himself out of the bed, the cold air causing his skin to ripple in response. He ignored the strange twinge of disappointment instead for his own apparent amusement, "And I think you promised me a surprise. Or were you just lying to me in my delicate state, Tyurma?"

"Hmmm?" Her eyes closed softly at his touch, back arching just slightly as he got just that much closer. Brown eyes met his with something- but a smirk grew on her lips as he pushed himself up, even as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"Oh yeah! The surprise!" Sitting up, she crawled over the blankets, hopping out of the bed and over to the crib. Reaching down, she waited for Adrian's hands to fist in her shirt before pulling him upward. Nightmare lifted Vision by the scruff of her neck and following them out of the room.

Yawning slightly, the girl made her way into the kitchen, shivering in the slight chill of the room. Reminding herself to turn down the AC, she placed Adrian on the floor of the kitchen, letting him crawl around with Vision and Nightmare as she took out the makings for breakfast.

"Do you remember the drawing you did of me when we met?" She asked, humming a soft tune as she moved around the kitchen.

Running his hand over his head, feeling the soft springs of hair growing - he wondered when the last time he got it cut was - he rolled his shoulders and looked around the room. Empty as it was, there wasn't much interesting to look at but the man continued to gaze anyway. Maybe he was stalling, he would say that his brain was just taking the moment to catch up with his body.

Slowly, hopping on one leg to tug on a pair of jeans, Feliks wandered out of the room, stopping by the other two members of house hold. Letting out a coo and a giggle, Adrian crawled over to sit on his father's feet, playing with the jagged end of his ripped knees with a fervent amusement that only a child could achieve.

"Vaguely," he shrugged, watching her move about the kitchen. "What about it? Hey want to make me some coffee while you're over there. I'm kind of stuck." He picked up his foot just slightly only displacing Adrian enough to cause him to giggle before he put his foot back down and Adrian continued his playing, the occasional 'Da' slipping through his lips.

"But coffee smells icky." She whined, pouting as she did what he said anyway. Setting up the coffee maker with the efficiency that only doing it a thousand times could. Wrinkling her nose delicately, she deigned not to breathe as she pulled down a coffee mug.

"Right, so I had it on the wall of my office at work." She said, pulling out the rest of the makings of scrambled eggs with cheese. "And I had a meeting with some higher up in Cia's company, and he liked it." She paused again, frowned at the amount of cheese left in the fridge and sighed. "We have to go shopping soon." She murmured.

"So yeah, he told what's his face down in the art district, and he had come see it, and eventually half the Art Department was in my office to see it. They kept going on and on about how good it was and if I was sure that you'd just drawn it quickly." She gave a put upon sigh. "Anyway, long story short, they want more of your artwork, and are willing to pay tons of money for it. Tons and tons and tons."

Snorting, Feliks merely rolled his eyes at the girl's antics, knowing she would do what he asked, just with complaints. At the moment, Feliks didn't really care. As long as he got his coffee he was going to be happy.

Humming along to whatever she was saying, nodding his head when it seemed appropriate to do so, Feliks kept his head bowed, looking down at Adrian, and jumping him again with his feet every few moments. He was still listening, he merely had no idea where this conversation was going, "I went to get the stuff last time. Not that you stayed home."

His head snapped up however, when she finished. His expression was blank and he was silent as he attempted to process what she had just said. It seemed the little things were easier to click than the larger ones.

"I did just do it quickly; you would have woken up and moved otherwise," his voice was oddly monotoned, almost dazed, "They want to pay, for that? And... other stuff?" For the moment Feliks couldn't even remember if he had other stuff.