Bastien
Bastien knew that with a baby very shortly on the way, it was unlikely that he and Rexanna would have much free time for the oncoming future: even if the child grew quickly, he was hoping to teach them all about his craft, show them the world. He would not be a distant father as his own had been but someone involved and active in his child's world.Still, he valued his spare time while he had it, so he had come to the Vlamvoed for bit of sketching, one of his old favourite activities from Venice. In bars people tended to let go of themselves, get involved in conversations and move in ways they might not if they knew they were being watched in a studio. It made for good drawings and studies. He was here on a busy evening, the Deepfrost cold and dark outside drawing in many patrons for the warmth and booze offered within. While he couldn't participate in the latter (he had a glass of water with him for appearances sake, and to sip at every so often) he was happy to sit and watch the merriment around him, record it in his sketchbook.
The drawings overlapped and ran into each other, happy faces and gesturing hands, the way someone's feet rested up against the chair: anything was worthy of study. Bastien was so deeply concentrating on his drawings that he may have been staring a little too hard at some of the bargoers, trying to get their features down just right; if anyone had a problem with that, they were welcome to come and tell him.
Let's pick the truth that we believe in
like a bad religion
