All is a Procession [Cosette]

[Cosette (DELETED 4759)]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


<Cosette> She didn't know, ultimately, but he was right - she had work to do and it was not the time to be worrying about such things. Instead, she dove into the task, removing the last two pieces from their place in the exhibit before she began rearranging. Once every so often, her gaze moved to the man across the way, who still hadn't introduced himself, she soon realized. His fingers moved quickly and just once, she caught him looking at her, leaving her confused between smiling and sweeping her own gaze resolutely back to the work at hand.

A shiver tripped down her spine as she finally placed the last piece and stepped back to admire her handiwork. She'd done it in record time and was certain she hadn't been as thorough as she could have been, but after several minutes staring, adjusting, and walking around each bit of the wing, Cosette was finally satisfied.
She quickly cleaned up, folding tarps and wrap and the rest of the supplies before stacking everything neatly and carrying it to stow away in the closet once more. She'd done a good job of keeping the area neat, but the cleaning crew would certainly take care of any stray dust or plaster bits that inevitably would get knocked about. Finally, with one last look, she lifted her sketch pad and the walkie talkie set and turned back to face the man.

"I'm all finished here and have to get back to the desk." She took a glance at her watch. "We close in about an hour, but feel free to stick around until then." She flashed him a smile and started to walk toward the stair, but turned on her heel to look at him once more before she headed downstairs. "Also, um... I don't think I got your name..."


<Jesse Fforde> Jesse’s sketch isn’t a whole sketch. He has different styles that he plays around with – at first, he begins sketching Cosette as true to life. Her features all in proportion with the shading in all the right areas. It ends up being only half a face, however. Down in another corner there’s a sketch of her hand as it holds its own pencil against her own sketch pad. That, too, is incomplete. The sketch in the middle, however, and the one that Jesse spent the majority of his time on, is something that could be used for a tattoo. Clean, and without too many shaded lines. A seemingly true, vague kind of caricature.

It looks like Cosette, but the eyes are a little bigger and a little wider. They look out at the viewer, and Jesse has captured that hint of curiosity and of good will. He’d read that in her—that she is a person who ultimately would want to do good, and see good in the world. Thus, the portrait that Jesse creates paints Cosette as slightly vulnerable, but strong in her vulnerability. Strong in her conviction. There’s no smile on the portrait’s lips, and the hair is a curtain of silk. Down the bottom, Jesse writes his name—it’s the signature at the bottom of all of his work. Clear. Concise. JESSE FFORDE, in block letters, only a bit of a flourish in the first J and the first F.

He stands, tears the piece of paper from the pad, and hands it over to Cosette. “That’s because I never gave it to you,” he says, referring to his name. Given her job, he’s certain that she has an eye for detail. She’ll figure it out. At that, he gives her a wink, and wanders off in the opposite direction, tucking his sketch pad and charcoals away into his bag as he does so. He probably won’t stick around. He’ll probably go home to Grey, now, sufficiently distracted and relaxed. But he’ll take the long way to the exit.


<Cosette> The girl's eyes widened as he handed her the sheet of paper, as she realized what was on it. The wink was as cheeky and knowing and altogether out of place as that smile had been - tight, close, and possibly slightly sinister, too, but she shook that off and ignored the crawling sensation once more. She looked down at the paper for a long moment - the pictures weren't lost on her but she didn't really have time to ask more about that, or think beyond the creeped-out-yet-pleased feeling that filled her. She'd never been sketched before, she didn't think... and certainly not handed one so blatantly.

If she didn't know better, she would have thought him to be flirting, but he seemed far too reserved for that.

She watched his retreating back for a long moment, then glanced at the paper again with a soft, incredulous laugh. "See you around... Mr. Fforde.

And with that, the girl headed down the stairs and back to the desk to start closing up.