Clemente
Clem is so absorbed in his sketches he doesn't notice the other man's entry, too used to people wandering in and out without bothering him. He jolts when Oliver's voice breaks the silence, dropping his charcoal and then cursing loudly as he ducks down to grab it. When he pops back up he turns his flaxen gaze towards the newcomer, recognizing him from the mural painting event Bastien had held. He's not sure of the man's name, but he stares at him for a few long seconds before turning and gesturing to his current paper. "Uh, charcoal. Tryin' new mediums or whatever." Hanging around Bastien meant he learned those kinds of terms, but using them means little to Clem. Bastien says it's totally okay to just want to get his hands on stuff and explore it, but Clem still feels bad about not wanting to learn the technicalities. He just...expresses. He doesn't really think about it.
Dark head tilts to the side curiously back at Oliver. "Whatcha here for? My name's Clem." The guild is becoming more familiar to him, maybe he can help Oliver find whatever he's looking for. Or at least learn his name.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
