We’re here to elevate

[mal_contented]

[Feed on Mal, between missions and freshly washed, hair still damp, clothes clean and in place. The bruise over one eye is about the only evidence that she'd been out in the muck until a few hours ago.]

"Alright kids, time to see how many we can kill with one stone. You need your rooms painted, I need money and to blow off some stress. So. First come first serve so long as the pay is worth my time. You provide materials, money, and the wall, I provide the art. I figure I can do one or two when I get back from each mission. So, you got my contact info here. Zap me up."

[She was also considering painting on canvases for sale, but she needed to earn more than she was making doing hair first.... And you know, have more than one client at the salon... but that was a whole other issue....]

Comments

[guitar_hero]

"Fair enough. But that also means you need to take care of yourself. Give yourself some time off. Space to breathe. You're young now but everyone is a candle. We only have so much to burn, and if you're not careful you'll burn out." He speaks casually, strumming another little melody.

"And exhaustion means mistakes. You work too hard for too long and you might make a misstep, or make things worse, set us back. You might even get killed. Or cause the death of someone else." Which is harsh, but it's true. "If you want to help you need to help everything, including yourself."

[mal_contented]

She rubbed at her face, after setting down the food and cleaning her hands. "I won't set anyone back, but what is the point wasting time trying to rest when it won't be good rest until this is solved? Painting at least helps."

[guitar_hero]

He sighed. "Suit yourself." It was like calling in a forest and there was no one around to actually hear what he had to say. Like all they heard was themselves. Maybe that was just the way things were. It's probably why he tended to only hang around with a few people and didn't try to tell them how to live their lives.

But whatever.

Maybe she won't come to regret it. Maybe it doesn't matter.

"Whenever you're ready."

[mal_contented]

She shrugged. "Laying in bed staring at the ceiling isn't rest. It's just wasting time. Painting is restful though." among other things. "So now is good." she stood, shoving another large bite in her mouth before grabbing up her pack.

[guitar_hero]

"I mean, I'm just saying, if you're passing out on a hay bale, maybe it's an indicator you're pushing too hard." He shouldn't have said it,but he did. And now it was out there. But never mind. He ducks into Samson's stables and the horse doesn't look pleased to see him, but more pleased to see Mal as they know they are about to be the star of the show.

[mal_contented]

She sighed and shrugged. "Maybe it was just easier to fall asleep out here," she said with a shrug. Who knew.

She liked her roomate a great deal, and liked what they had done to the room, but some nights a bed could be too soft. Sometimes being in a room with stuff that wasn't broken and stolen, being in a place that was good and made for people to be comfortable in felt like a trap squeezing the life out of her. Especially when she had things she had to do to protect others. And sometimes clean sheets and soft pillows felt like a mockery, like they knew that she was lying, that she wasn't someone who should ever have clean sheets and pillows. Oh, it wasn't all the time, but it was enough that sleeping didn't come easy these days. And since she didn't want to upset Lydia, she always did her best to hide it, to pretend to sleep... But she rarely stayed in bed longer than she had to. Maybe once she felt like they were making some actual progress, maybe she could sleep better then. But until she did, every stitch in that thread count scratched at her, reminded her she didn't deserve nice things, wasn't meant for them.

[guitar_hero]

"I know the feeling." He actually felt her there. Though in a different way. It wasn't that he disliked where he was but it was stifling sometimes. He felt trapped sometimes. Stuck in the same forward motion. Stuck in very human cycles. Fighting the urge to go off as there was no where to go off too and not get himself killed. Sometimes it was easier just to get away from it all, even if that away was the stables.

"Well, you're welcome here any time. Wherever you feel comfortable. I'll even leave a blanket for you."

[mal_contented]

She blinked, surprised, and then nodded. "Thanks. Might just use that blanket some nights."

[guitar_hero]

"I'll make you a designated spot." He grinned. At least he could try to make her more comfortable.

"Now! Samson!" He clapped his hands and opened the stall door, gesturing her to proceed him.

"Samson Will-Eat-Your-Testicles-If-You-Call-Me-Pepper Jones, this is Mal. Mal, this is Samson Will-Eat-Your-Testicles-If-You-Call-Me-Pepper Jones. Mal is here to paint you what you like and she has bought her portfolio." He hoped. "And remember she doesn't work for free or feed."

Samson snorted and twitched his head as if he didn't like this news, but then swung his neck in Mal's direction as if checking for said portfolio.

[mal_contented]

A case of less being more, at any rate.

"If it helps, pretty sure he's the one paying," she told the horse, nodding to the Doctor. She pulled out her phone and turned it towards the horse, using one finger to swipe through the gallery of her work she always carried digitally. When your art tended to be spray paint on buildings and lockers, it wasn't exactly easy to bring samples with you.

[guitar_hero]

"It's a gift." The Doctor shrugged. Samson's ears twitched in pleasure and then they watched the pictures go by, finally lipping the phone to one they liked. It was something stylized and wild.

Samson nickered, tail swishing.

"They say they want that but like a horse and in green and yellow. Green of grass and yellow of hay. So they can be delicious."

[mal_contented]

She flipped the phone around to look, brows up. "Really? This but like a horse. Not quite my usual shade of green, but I can work with it. Yellow, huh? Alright." she looked at the Doctor. "you heard the horse. Yellow and green paint please. I'll also need some gold and a deeper emerald green for accents, and..." she looked at the design again. "A little white and black."

[guitar_hero]

"Right I'll..." Samson snorted and scraped a back hoof against the floor, tossing their head. "Ah, they say they don't want white and black. It spooks-- er... gives them stomach burn. And for a horse that's really an epidemic." He gives Mal a bit of a sympathetic smile. "Think you could do without?"

[mal_contented]

That... was going to be tricky. She leaned back on her heels a bit, considering the wall, and her phone. "What about a really really deep blue and a third yellow, a really pale one?"

[guitar_hero]

Their ears laid back, then forward again. Then they made a small circle before snorting.

"That's acceptable." He grins. "You work well with others."

[mal_contented]

She snorted a it at that second part. "Hardly. But I've gotten used to things like this." Well, gotten used to Ben dealing with things like this then talking to her about it.

[guitar_hero]

"Yeah? Compromise? Or working with picky clients?" He smiles a bit, folding his arms as he leans against the stable wall.

[mal_contented]

"Animals that need a translator and don't think the way humans do," she said with a shrug. "At least the horses aren't soaking the floor in seawater like the Atlantica representatives." Despite the language barrier, she thought Ben preferred talking to Flounder and Sebastian to speaking to the princesses. At least their splashes were more often accidental rather than mischievous or not so passive aggressive shows of displeasure.