Clemente
Clemente can't blush, which makes it easier to ignore his pout as he turns away from Oliver, embarrassed by his own lack of guard. "Ya didn' scare me," he mumbles, a clear lie but one the boy will cling to for the rest of the evening. At times he really can be a typical teenager, annoying and contrary just for the sake of being so. Nonetheless at his age his emotions are also as swiftly changing as a river, and he beams shyly at the newcomer when he compliments Clem's sketches. "Thanks," he manages to say, even though he's not entirely used to taking compliments in the first place, much less from strangers. Hazel eyes glance over as Oliver introduces himself, grins a little as one fang peeks out. "Broke cuz you got mad, or just not up t'snuff?" It's an amusing visual, innocent-looking Oliver raging at a sketch not going his way and snapping his pencil into tiny bits with one well-placed crush of a hand. Unlikely, but still humorous. Clem knows where the pencils are, but doesn't bother pointing them out if Oliver at least knew where to go to find them in the first place. Plus with the way the young man hesitates, it's clear he wants to ask something.
And of course he does. Clem shuffles over a little, gesturing to the empty space beside him with a little shrug of his shoulders. "Nah, come on in. Workin' on somethin' yourself?" Or just watching Clem play with the charcoal? The kid doesn't care either way, returning to his sketch for a moment until Oliver decides.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
