the voice wants to be a hand and the hand wants to be something useful
The greeting he shouts into the sanctuary is met with equal enthusiasm, though the way the conversation turns immediately leaves Nate puzzled, his head tipping to the side. "I don't think you could offend me if you tried, but what are you-?" Realization strikes him quite suddenly, a half written letter left out on the kitchen counter for days, weeks, because how do you say thanks for the chance to fuck? and now it had joined the rest of the ashes that had once been home. "I'm so sorry, I meant to respond to you, things just... it's been a hectic few months." A sheepish laugh leaves him, Nate shaking his head and not at all elaborating.
No, his gaze shifts to the dark fabric in Bastien's hand, the base that its being attached to. Beadwork and swirling shapes jump out at him, seeming to shift in and out of shadows in the blur of black on black. "It looks beautiful. If I tried that, it'd come out looking like a blind kid made it." Still, it might be worth it to try and challenge himself, to get into the spirit of things, as it were. Not anything quite as complex as what Bastien was putting together, but... his eyes roam around the room, looking for something that seemed more beginner friendly, his teeth worrying at his lip while he looked.
No, his gaze shifts to the dark fabric in Bastien's hand, the base that its being attached to. Beadwork and swirling shapes jump out at him, seeming to shift in and out of shadows in the blur of black on black. "It looks beautiful. If I tried that, it'd come out looking like a blind kid made it." Still, it might be worth it to try and challenge himself, to get into the spirit of things, as it were. Not anything quite as complex as what Bastien was putting together, but... his eyes roam around the room, looking for something that seemed more beginner friendly, his teeth worrying at his lip while he looked.
NATE
