Location: Art class
Company: Mr. Orra, Adriana
Thoughts: Just what I wanted to do with my life- be surrounded by hot glue and needles.
Health: 100%
Cygnus fell into mostly silence as summers were discussed. His involved sneaking to gay pride parades, ******** off on the internet, and getting harrassed by customers. Not exactly a highlight of anyone's life. He'd mostly turned to drawing in a notepad- he'd forgotten his sketchpad in his locker during his rush to get there- simple abstract things, mostly. Eyes. Tattoo designs. Patterns. Though occasionally he'd take a pattern and then draw clothes to it. Never dresses, because then it'd be flamingly obvious, and he might as well hang a neon sign that read 'homo' on his back, but clothes nonetheless. "Ah, the teen queen. New hair ties, Bee?" he asked what could have been his signature question. He'd always notice if you did something with your hair, anyway. Bee had been a running nickname for her, just because cheerleaders were 'queen bee' and for an entire month he'd whisper 'float like a butterfly sting like a bee' at them while they practised.
Then the subject of modern art came up, and he leaned forward a good bit, "Did it even have anything meaningful written with it? Usually they have some quote they ripped right out of a John Green book. Jeez, though, what could you put to a picture like that?" he sneered a bit, though kept pretty casual about it. "And here I thought being a lawyer was the most money you could ever make. Silly me." he posed dramatically, clearly joking. "Really, though, teach could make twice that. Unless hipsters are just shelling out dollars for some abstract thing that will make their home look kinda weird and unsettling."
He'd mostly blocked the chatter of the class out after that conversation calmed down, thickening the lines for certain drawings. He always drew light in case he ******** up, and then beefed things up after he was... Well. After he couldn't do anything more for it. No artist was ever truly 100% satisfied with their work. There was always something to be improved upon. He looked back up when he realized Mr. Orra had come back around and addressed him, leaning back a bit, "Ah, I was just wondering how much art trickles off paper. Like. 3D, y'know? I know there are sculptures, but frankly, I think that kind of thing would make me cry tears of blood." he said, tapping the eraser of his pencil on the desk, "Annnnd... My parents have, uh, been pushing me towards designing clothes. Guess my wardrobe is horrendous after all." he snickered slightly at the end, "Could clothes be art? Besides, like, Lady Gaga." Lady Gaga was an enigma, and more importantly, a hero. Heroine. Whatever.
(( WHOOPS FORGOT TO INCLUDE AN ENTIRE PARAGRAPH ))