"Do you not like the cold?" Well it wasn't exactly an answer, but it was something, and with the intensity of the concentration that now plagued the other male's thoughts, it would be surprising to an onlooker that he'd listened at all.
It was a full-face mask, and was only proving especially tricky because of the ghoul who'd ordered it; A young man who'd given Uta practically nothing to work with. The store owner was creative, sure, and could've probably come up with innumerable ideas for specific designs, colouring, textures, and everything in between, immediately, off the top of his head.
But this was different. With things like this, a reasonable amount of thought needed to be put into each detail. It was a special instance, in a way. Uta could just tell.
The tattooed ghoul was currently beyond oblivious to the human's inner turmoil, and most of the stranger's movements in general. He placed the mask down gently, before pulling one of the drawers underneath the desk open, rifling through it with little care – He obviously didn't mind leaving a mess, in this case. Two pots of paint were pulled out, and shortly after, he closed everything up again.
The older male suddenly turned to Choc, curiosity dusting his opaque features. "Red or blue?" He picked the mask back up, holding it where both he and the opposing individual could see it clearly. "For the mouth, mainly.." Uta traced a finger over the lips of the mask, practically caressing the work of art.. Though he was apparently lost in thought again. For such a simple question, the decision appeared to be causing problems.
"Huh?" Choc's head snapped back up to regard the speaker, this mysterious guy that just seemed too cool for him. He rubbed the back of his head before answering. "Ah. I'd rather the cold than the hot." There were reasons, obviously. Sweat, being one. "Cold's good!"
The focus he saw in the other's eyes left him dazed for a moment, enthralled in how silent and mindful the shop keeper kept to making his arts. Shifting quietly, Choc edged off the chair and scooted closer to watch the artist at work. "Hm," he hummed, contemplative. "That depends. Red's normally always referred to as the color of blood and betrayal, wherein blue the color of cold and abandonment." Woah, wait. "I- I mean! Uhm. Apples or blueberries?" Choc let out a nervous chuckle, an anxious small smile, and reached out to push his finger against a brush on the table.
That was too deep of a thought. He sounded like a right nerd! Though, after glancing once more at how the other traced what would be the lips of the mask, Choc moved to pick up the blue paint and held it against the spot. He leaned in, mouth twisted with prolonged thought. "This one," with a determined factor, moving away to set the bottle back down and smile.
There was no warmth when he pressed close, closer even. Just a chill that ran down his spine. But-. But...
Choc moved again, this time to cross the room and rummage in his bag. Out he pulled a knitted blanket, specially made in his case. He trotted back, hopped onto the chair and draped it across the shop keep's shoulders, then slowly stretched himself out on top of his half of the table to rest his cheek against folded arms to watch.
Done all in silence.
