undergrounds | You Only Hear The Music When Your Heart Begins To Break

Party's already been warned off of vampire territory a few times and for now he's willing to play ball, but that doesn't mean he's going to be happy about it, especially now that they've taken Greenwich. His career is pretty halted without access to the art galleries in their territory and he's taken to what some people might see as panhandling, but what he chooses to see as an entry-level artist position.

Lately, he's taken to setting up shop with his art outside train stops in various non-hostile areas. He's got a little cardboard display with postcard prints of his favorite pieces and a travel easel with a tip jar. Every day he finds a new stop to set up at and he starts to paint. If anyone shows interest, he'll offer commissions or even just chat with people.

In the evenings, he'll move to hipper places, outside of nightclubs and bars where he might catch the eye of others in the art scene. Most of his art focuses in the juxtaposition of nature imagery and neon colors, especially wolves and forests, but he'll branch out to anything that might interest him if it fits his style of bright contrasts an harsh shapes.

On more than one occasion, he takes advantage of the cover of night to paint over old tags and ruder graffiti with his own quick spray paint work, especially in alleyways that look like they could use a little love and a brighter palette.

[ OOC: Party can be found anywhere that would be non-hostile to werewolves for any of the above scenarios. His art is along the lines of this or this or this. If you're interested in a more specific starter for something, let me know! ]

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His eyes light up and before he knows it, he's letting out a hearty laugh, head shaking and dirty hair bouncing. It doesn't matter if she really has a cape or not, because at least she's got a sense of humor.

"You're a cool chick, you know that? I bet you'd totally rock a spandex catsuit."

She does have a sense of humor. Pity few people have much cause to see it. Or even understood her particular brand.

"Thank you- That means a lot." Oddly enough, being labeled a cool chick was totally an accomplishment. Evie had never really been the 'cool' one in any sense of the way it meant now. "We'll see." Evie looked very good in a spandex catsuit. That's what happens when you're a woman with nothing but time to train. She'd already been in fantastic shape when she'd turned.

She pauses. "I don't suppose you'd like a coffee while you sit here?" She'd buy him a sandwich, too, if he wanted. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Tragically, Party's been stuck drinking what he can only refer to as instant muck lately. The idea of anything that tastes even remotely like real coffee might as well be his next hit of something better.

He swoons, exaggerating his movements and trying not to laugh through it. "Gotta be careful with offers like that unless you want me to fall in love."

The smile he comes out of it with is a lot more genuine than the one he wears through the joke, though. "I'd love one."

Evie can't help it, she laughs lightly into her hand. He's a charming one, this Party. She's quite happy to know him already.

"How ever did you guess my secret plan?" She's usually got an incredibly dry sense of humor, but the opportunity is too good to pass up to make the joke.

"Alright- give me a few minutes, and I'll be right back." With that, Evie excuses herself.

And, true to her word, she's back in a few minutes, a large coffee in one hand, and the other holding a large Café Nero bag. Oh, yes, she'd gone ahead and bought some crisps, a sandwich, desert, and a pastry. There was a bottle of water in there, too. "I don't want you to be a literal starving artist, now." She hands over the goods.

He's really not expecting the food, but man, is he excited when he realizes it's for him. It's one of those days where he'd gotten so into the zone he'd forgotten that eating was even a thing he'd needed to do.

"If I wake up before I get a bite of this, I'm going to cry." He laughs as he takes it. "Thanks."

"I promise you, this is your real life," she informs him. "But you're welcome, though there's no need to thank me."

She, despite humble beginnings, had amassed quite a bit of money, as most vampires had.

As he unwraps the sandwich, he shakes his head at her. "Thanking people's important. Gotta be thankful when people are good to you, 'cause the world can be a shitty place."

He takes a bite of the sandwich and smiles as a young woman drops a few coins in his tip jar, yelling after her. "Thank you!"

The look he turns back on Evie is warm. "Hundreds of people walk by and avoid eye contact altogether, you know?"

"That's quite a good philosophy." But Evie's more interested in making sure he's enjoying his sandwich.

"I suppose you're right. I never really thought about it." But she's never done any sort of busking. She's had her jobs lined up for her, more often than not. Being an Assassin was very different from being an artist, after all.

"Didn't used to think about it, either, until I started doing street art. It's amazing how many people can walk by a mural and not even stop to look at it." He pauses to take another bite, not quite swallowing before he continues.

"I was spilling my guts on those walls and people were ignoring it or looking at it like it was devaluing their real estate or something." As if it's the most laughable idea he's ever heard, he rolls his eyes.

One of the things Evie has learned in her long life is that people never take the time to look really stop and enjoy the world around them. "That is no one's fault but their own," she tells him.

"They're selfish. You'll find the people that recognize your talent are those you want to associate yourself with."

"Yeah." He smiles around his food. Table manners really aren't his string suit. "I like people who recognize... people, you know? We're all just livin' our lives and we have to take time for each other."

Of course, Party is still violent and volatile at times, so he's not always a great example of practicing what he preaches, but few are in his experience.

Evie smiles down at him, genuinely affectionately. "You've an extremely kind heart, Party." And that's high praise.

"Take good care of it."

Taking care of himself is about the last thing Party is really worried about in any sense of the word. Just as easily as he neglects his body, he wears his heart on his sleeve with full knowledge of where it might lead him. There's no real appeal in the idea of being safe at the expense of actually living.

Instead of explaining any of that, he just smiles a little wider at her. "I'll do my best."

"Good." Evie looks back into her pocket, to make sure the print is still there.

"Take care of yourself, Party. I'm sure I'll see you around." She starts to walk off, but pauses. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to contact me. My card's in the bag." She'd slipped it in with the food, just in case.

You Only Hear The Music When Your Heart Begins To Break - OPEN

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