georginalivingston:
☼
Truthfully, the further she grows wine drunk, Georgina tries harder to fix her focus upon the canvas. It’s evident because the brunette felt a back spasm overtake her, which happens when she’s focusing too hard on something in specific, as it causes her mind to jump to the first assumption possible. That a bug is crawling over her. It’s not a work of art that would ever get hung in the museum, and what Geo thought to be her best work is proven opposite as Felix’s comment circles her mind. “Oh─” Darts from the confines of her mouth, taken back but gives her a reason to study her own piece.
After a fleeting moment, Geo observes her canvas with the latest painted addition. It’s dreadful looking and looks like painted cucumbers rather than pretty little trees. “You’re not wrong.” A brief pause, a soft sigh parting, “This proves that I suck at painting, but God, I seriously thought I was doing something for a moment ─ like I could sign up for a few more of these classes and show everyone what’s up,” she comments in a teeter. It’s a sad thought, but there’s no point in denying it to Felix. Her drunken haze made her feel like she has talent in every potential hobby. Nonetheless, the evening’s purpose is meant to be fun and something out of the norm in their routines, along with catching up after what’s felt like years.
Eventually, her hazel optics turn to Felix as her wine glass sticks out to cheers. “At least we’re trying new… that says something, right? That could be our cheers for the third glass.” It comes out with a vaulted brow, an upturn of her mouth corners rushing to the surface. Again, the unwavering optimism that follows through her will never vanish regardless of how petrifying the circumstances may be. If there’s one thing she likes to do, it’s sprinkling hope here and there. “We all have opinions whether we like it or not, but even when I twist your arm a bit, your painting looks so much better than mine.”
.
Geo’s soft sigh and tipsy comment go by, listened to but unaddressed other than a soft sigh and a smile. After a beat longer than is probably strictly necessary, Felix shakes her head. “This doesn’t prove anything. Maybe this just isn’t your genre. Maybe woodland scenes don’t really inspire you. Maybe if it was one of those classes with nude models, a life sketching or whatever it’s called, then it would be easier for you.” She’d modeled in a few of those classes a time or two in college for some extra money. Aly may be the only one who even knows and she opts not to divulge just now, but after a little more wine, she might. Or, worse, she might demonstrate. She makes an agreement with herself now to not do that. Considering she sips at her wine after, though, it might be a loose or non-binding agreement. She clinks her glass softly against her counterparts, then surveys both paintings. “I think we’re doing just fine,” Felix says. “After all, beauty and art are subjective. There’s an audience for just about anything. I’ve built a whole career on it, so you can’t tell me otherwise.” She gestures toward her canvas with her mostly-empty wine glass. “That even applies to purple penis trees. Or the abstract beauty you have going on there. I like the shade of green you chose.”
