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Backdated to February 1st, post this rp from Jan. 15th. Stroud having already spoken with Quenton to get the process started and underway.

The studios were fairly quiet still since the semester was only a few weeks in after the conclusion of winter break. He'd requisitioned extra floor space and was given it to accommodate more than one large-format piece for both classwork and for 'commission'. He wasn't certain that he would call anything from Stroud a commission anymore, but she was paying him so it was a convenient explanation. Obligation was more appropriate, or strong-armed compulsion- she was not one he made a habit of saying no to when she had that fey, feral smile that said everything her words didn't.

The molds were made, test casts poured and cured. He had the flooring blocks and counter ledges laid out aside on collapsible wood workhorses. In the meantime, he was working quietly on a nearby sculpture of a human figure, hollowed torso anatomy like a birdcage that poured out rats and fluid from under a effervescent veil. He was working on the hand- outstretched and motioning in what could be warding or beckoning.

Fingernails...even full size, they're impossible to get the fine detail right.

Winter break had been spent mostly on patrol or healing up from the so-called fruits of that, and January had been spent nose-to-the-grindstone of getting through as many of his projects as he could manage, so it came as both a stress and a relief to see Alex. It was the first time in a while, the trouble with semester breaks and beginings and-
Being busy.
Both of them.
The reasons all over again why things weren't really able to work out as more than friends.

At least a month on, his wounds were well healed to scars. Alex, of course, looked perfect as usual. Quenton carefully stepped back from the clay hand , spooking at the basket, "Alex, it's been-"

But a laugh interrupted his reply.
"You aren't kidding about the food. A whole picnic."

"No apologies. I'm glad for the work, honestly. Come in, by all means, its no interruption. " Quenton crossed a few steps, clearing his bag from the worktable so the basket would have a place. "Eat first, or inspection first? Stroud said plants as the thematic elements in relief, so-"

Stoppppp, you were just saying eat or work as an option. Don't jump right into work like some creepy work-obsessed van gogh who doesn't know how to relate to other people. "Glitch. Just hit me like an 80s electronic, I promise I'll start functioning correctly."

Quenton weathered the ghosted fingers patiently, not really surprised at the attention drawn directly to scar over other things. The face was something of sacred ground to most people- and it was also about as visible a mark as one could bear as evidenced by generations of punitive branding.

"There's a great many shadows and violence around the University grounds anymore. I'm glad that you haven't been caught by anything yet. Maybe its just my long hours become a problem. But it does seem unlikely that anyone here for four years won't go unscathed. "

"Its old, though, from winter break."

He pulled over two of the high chairs for the table and offered one to Alex as he opened the basket as invited to divest it of treasures onto the shared surface. "Do you have a full or part time schedule this semester?"

" As much as we'd all like to be able to claim being able to handle ourselves, there's one outcome when anyone without weapons are faced with others who bear them. Kent State in 1970 was a good example." Quenton sobered, looking at Alex with steady, intense gaze. "If it happens, Alex, do your best to run. Its about as much as I hope to manage if one of those combatants corner me again."

The sculptor finally let his attention return to the spreading out of food options, growing some marvel at the number of options. "This is an impressive spread...did you make all this, Alexandre?"

" Its enough for an army of art students, really. " He paused, considered as he pulled at his own shirt from his flank, "Are you trying to fatten me up for the summer fair? "

"But thank you, really. I....don't remember if I ate today, actually." Quenton made a plate of all the things in turn, not shy of showing appreciation when it was well due. "Why the small business venture, if I can ask? "

Teaching, even art, is something of a different degree unless you're just doing private lessons or collegiate level. Act 151, 34 & 114 Clearance Forms if dealing with children at all at a private non-profit, and an actual education degree for regular schools. Well...that's all preachy and beside the point, isn't it?

Quenton set to some of the food first, to both show appreciation and be able to compliment it honestly before getting past pleasantries- "Its all amazing, Alex. Unfortunate loss for Culinary that they couldn't win you. "

"Diversification is often a wise choice. I don't doubt you'll do well for it. Maybe I'll get a chance to stop by the place once its open. Which, speaking of, it will need its counters and the floor insets."

Quenton motioned to some of the initial tests which used bas and low relief technique to intersperse plant forms with smooth sections organically. There was a feel of fossils in the effect- delicate and stark, but using modern materials matching Stroud's demands that the result be trendy.

"You'll have to make sure to send me a reminder text the morning of. Knowing me, I'll be elbow deep here and have forgotten what day it even is, if not the month and year. " It was a light joke at his own expense and apology both- Alex had been a dear to put up with his absenteeism in their relationship as long as he had. It hadn't gotten much better as just friends- what else did Quenton ever do but study, work and attend to his other life? Though Alex's habits, as long as Quenton had known him, seemed much the same.

If one added social events and who knew how many shopping trips required of fashion sense.

"She has a lot of odd connections, though the string that binds them is always the same- art. Tea drinking is an art in China and Japan both, and anything that has evolved to an art form she takes interest in. I imagine tea is only one of the arts she follows from connections on the west coast. She collects artists and helps them out the way other people collect pieces of art."

The compliment was generous, well-meant and a little funny all at once. "You don't know the half of it, though that is very kind, Alex. We're actually like oil and water. I suppose we can work together and do well at it. Simon and Garfunkel, only maybe not even that genial. I'm glad you can get along with her. "

Maybe I am the only stick in the mud that doesn't. Though we both goad each other equally, intentionally or not. "Is there someone you work with well, but like a ...there was a word for that-"

"frenemy?"

"Air alone could not sustain, but the doing of the craft. But thought. I could feast and be so drunk on thought alone, Alex. It is when I must slow, sleep, boredom that I starve, " he said it before taking a healthy bite from his plate, squeezing his eyes at the other artist to emphasize appreciation of the food in spite of his own rambling. He waited until he had swallowed, though, before continuing, "And yes, I believe whole-heartedly that you are now among Stroud's collection. Whether for your fashion, your good looks, or your watercolors may remain to be determined. Maybe all of the above. "

It had not been even a full twenty-four hours prior that the same Alois had revealed that Alex was Alexandre Evans. Roommates. His roommate is his friend and enemy both?

"With Alois, what little I know of him, I believe that. I saw him just yesterday- I've started a sculpture project with him. We met...December, actually. He was scraping roadkill off the pavement. I had need of someone with expertise in taxidermy. I didn't know you were roommates until yesterday, though. I never got the impression you'd be tolerant of smoking? "

"He's a unique one. Recognized right off a recitation from Titus Andronicus. Thoughtful, though, so I can understand keeping his company in doses. I expect we'll be at odds during the project. He mentioned that he never knew we were no longer dating, but that he'd heard of me."

I wonder if its something I should be worried about- him caring whether we were still together or not. Maybe he is interested in you?

There was little reason to stay in the dark about it- it was even a good step in distancing back to friends to approach it, "Are you together, you and Alois?"

He wouldn't have picked the goth as anything that Alex's supposed elite tastes would identify as desirable, but then he hadn't been himself. Lack of cutting edge fashion, means or money didn't seem to figure much in the painter's taste, which was a reassuring and human facet. Or maybe Alex was branching out in having made it to college, as many youths oft did in new-found freedom, in discovery of the myriad of possible relationships and reason for using so vague a term as 'together'- friends with perks, one night stands, and more.