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"Will that be enough...? I have more food if you're still hungry... But, I guess... it is better to eat it bits ad pieces as to not overload your stomach... Probably... Shrank from hunger, eh? Hmm... Pretty name... Never heard it before..."
He sat on the sofa, farthest from the girl as he could. It still felt extremely awkward to have her here, with a cat who, with no doubt in his mind whatsoever, hated his very gut. With the sun beginning to peek out from behind the clouds, it was enough to make any decent rain lover sigh heavily. He did, indeed, sigh quite a bit. It was good for the respriatory
system anyways.

"There's not much that I can ask you to do... Odd that you feel so... In debt to me... It's alright, really... I've never asked anything of anybody, so... You know Robert, right? Oh, goodness. I just realized that I haven't stated my name for the record... Astris." he mummerd, his voice as soft as a gentle night drizzle, "Not much for normality... Sounds like a flowery gay name to me." He shrugged at his revelation. Perhaps his parents were hippies... But, then how would he know their true nature?
"Just a thought, is Tulkra hungry?"

Strange smells were no stranger to this strange artist. Afterall, the brush cleanser for oil paints, when kept closed for long periods of time and then reopened, never smelled pleasent. And he was Astris, the man who had once showcased a collection of art made completely from, besides the canvas, sewage and his own ejecta. Those were the days of true art... College. Where the professors constantly complained about the tempurature of the outside world. One in particular, about a ghost that stole his prized painting one night. He sighed as he lead Nye to the bathroom. It was, like the rest of the large apartment, tall ceiling-ed and devoid of color beyond the mettalic rafters and gray sheetrock walls. Flourscent lights flicked on at the sound of his approach. As he handed her a towel, some soap and shampoo, it dawned on him that his name did somelike something out of a fairy tale. Compliment, he blushed. But, it sounded so familiar now... To be so confused over your name name, its origin and whether or not you heard it once before now in a place not like this, it is an odd feeling...
"I suppose the cat will stay with you...? He'd probably eat me brains... Oh, an extra pair of pants and a shirt, just in case. The pants will probably be too long... Belt."
He ran off to his makeshift bedroom to collect the items and returned with haste. Thunder crashed with an odd misplacement. The blue haired, two-toned eyed man turned to stare out the window in amazment. It was pure sun, not a cloud in the sky and he had not done a thing... Perhaps it was the local construction. But, it still reverberated with the creepy sensation of thunder during a fall hurricane.
"Be quick with the shower... I suspect that the water will not be as warm as it... Should. Be... Oh, and it works like the old fashioned ones. You've got to turn the knob to start the spray. Turn the knob to start the spray..."
His attention turned to the window as he shut the door to the bathroom. Today was just not normal at all.

The construction had long stopped, on account of wetness no doubt. But the thunder still came, in slow, more silent types, just rolling along the streets like a wandering dog. But where did it come from? Lifting up the large bay window, he stepped out onto the wire boucany and stared towards the sky for an answer. He found none that could explain the strange phenomenon. It worried him greatly. Such out of place things, beyond his control, never happened in this city. What was becoming of the world, he wondered. His two toned eyes fell to the streets, where people were beginning to enjoy the sunlight as best they could. Still, they remained hurried and paranoid, like any other city folk. Could they not hear the omnious rumbles from across the horizon? It then dawned on him that maybe they could not. But, he heard Nye calling his name. Mister Astris. No one had ever addressed him as such before, not even Robert when they first met. It was always 'you'.

He turned as saw her dilliema. It caused a cocked eyebrow. How could one not know how to work a belt...? Without much question in his eyes (for he was a master at disgusing true feelings), he glided over to her and tighted the belt properly and fastened it. It felt odd to work someones belt... Almost, a taboo. He gave a slight shudder in the cool air and glanced back out the still opened bay window. The thunder was relentless in its soft noises. He wondered...
"Can you hear the thunder?" he asked the young girl, "Just now, did you hear that?"

He watched the strange girl hop to whatever she wanted to do. Cleaning, eh? He felt like he should stop her from doing that, for she didn't have to subject herself to such a thing. But, he felt like he should let her be happy with what she could do. Not a word escaped his mouth as he turned back to close the almighty bay windows. The sun was bright and yellow, but the light always looked gray and unwelcoming. It was just something about this city that completely unnerved him... And the people, they were always glancing up at his apartment. Was it just the giant windows that amazed them? Or was it him, the odd blue haired man who always walked in the rain and never left his house without a twisted aura about him? His shoulders spazzed slightly at the thought of someone stalking him because of his oddities. Then again, it could just be Robert sticking things in his head. Come to think of Robert, why did the girl want so badly for Astris to not reveal her existance to the psychic man, Robert. He probably already knew, the paranoid weirdo that he was. And why did she choose to stay so close to Robert? If she knew him, she must have known his abilities. It was obvious to anyone who set eyes on the man. But, it wasn't his position to ask. Still... He at least wanted to know where she had come from. Not knowing how to work a belt... That wasn't a typical thing of Atlas dwellers. He tore his eyes away from the street below and stared back into his grand metallic living quarters. If she was going to stay here, he might as well get used to it. He seated himself at his art corner, where the canvas was half covered with a strange abstract design of a face. Colors ran rampant through the painting, making it look lively and hope lifting from afar, but up close the face was tiwsted and howling in such agony. Astris planned on calling the painting Death of the Sublime, but the naming was far off. He took up a brush and lost himself in the art.

((Aww... Why? ;-; We can work you back in...))

((Aww, poopy. ;-; ))