The nights have lost their minds
The crooning had Nate ducking his head down a little, a smile spreading over his lips despite his best attempts. He shouldn't be embarrassed, but he hadn't quite expected this reaction from his fellow ascended. "I guess... it started as a sordid affair. He was married and I was... thinging, with uh, Sam." There's an shrug that would be self conscious on anyone else, but Nate simply barrels on past any kind of self reflection or shame. "We're trying the romance thing now. And he is all of those things. And more." There was more he could say, more that he though, but emotional admissions did not come easily to him, and he wasn't going to be spending any loving revelations on Bastien.
If there was one thing Nate could say he knew about Bastien, it was that the man had passion. Passion that was almost overwhelming to have pointed towards him. As soon as it began to sound like a lecture, like a lesson, part of Nate checked out, his gaze focused on the other ascended, but the words going in one ear and out the other.
Something resonated with him though, made his eyebrows rise in genuine interest, just as Bastien's lip curled. Nate let his brush drop away from the wall, actually focusing on what the other man was saying. Art created for the joy of it. He hummed, looking down at himself, around the street they were in, then back at the artist. "So is everything art then? Anything a person makes, if it makes someone happy?"
If there was one thing Nate could say he knew about Bastien, it was that the man had passion. Passion that was almost overwhelming to have pointed towards him. As soon as it began to sound like a lecture, like a lesson, part of Nate checked out, his gaze focused on the other ascended, but the words going in one ear and out the other.
Something resonated with him though, made his eyebrows rise in genuine interest, just as Bastien's lip curled. Nate let his brush drop away from the wall, actually focusing on what the other man was saying. Art created for the joy of it. He hummed, looking down at himself, around the street they were in, then back at the artist. "So is everything art then? Anything a person makes, if it makes someone happy?"
And the mornings are unkind
NATE
