"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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@raphaeloikos
A huff of frustration escapes his lips. he didn’t expect anyone to actually do as he had asked, so the response didn’t exactly surprise him. Freddie can’t lie for shit, he knows that, so he figures he might as well kinda tell the truth. ‘‘ It’s a secret. ’’
“i can keep a secret.” he shrugs. “spill the beans kids, it’s the only way.”
a l i c e ,
she watched him as he answered, taking a moment to think about what he said. alice wasn’t the biggest art conessiour but she could appreciate what art meant to people. art was a reflection of people. alice thought the people in her bustling city were beautiful. “what kind?” she questioned after scribbling the word art in her notebook.
he liked that she continued the question a bit further. “all of it.” he states simply. “my favorite is street art can you tell?”
“you ever thought about a tattoo? i just opened my shop, stop by yeah?”
a l i c e ,
there was a soft smile on her lips, a tuft of blonde hair framing her face, and a notebook with her initials written in gold in hand. when alice would get overwhelmed, she went somewhere beautiful and wrote down all the things she saw. it helped calm her in the moment and it was nice to look back on what she thought was beautiful. without thinking much of what she was saying she asked, to no one in particular, “what do you think is beautiful?”
beautiful? raphael didn’t spend much of his time thinking about the beauty of life, though many told him it wouldn’t be such a bad idea if he did. “uh....” he’s stumped, for once he doesn’t have a snarky comeback on hand. “art.” his answer is simple but relevant. “i think art is beautiful.”
freddiegardner:
Freddie stood awkwardly outside the shop, hoping to convince someone who looked old enough to buy him a packet of cigarettes. technically speaking they weren’t for him, they were for his mom, his BIRTH mom, and he really didn’t want to let her down (again). ‘‘ OH, hey, excuse me? would you be able to buy me a packet of Marlboro? ’’
raphael does a brief scan of the young boy. he can’t be a day over thirteen, no way he’s buying him cigarettes. he wonders why the boy wants them in the first place, he seems like he comes from a home where someone takes care of him, clean cut, someone is feeding and clothing him, he can’t see why he’d need these cigarettes, so he asks. “what’d you need em’ for huh? can’t be for yourself so?”