Blood and Ink

[Thalia]

Contrary to Thalia’s impression that Rune looked tired, she was like a whirlwind upon entrance, a ferocious charge of energy and attitude and, well, very American. Thalia was a smooth mirror of water compared to that tumultuousness, but she buoyed on the waves of Rune’s persuasively chirpy nature. She closed the door, and followed in the wake of the path the other woman took. Rune veritably buzzed at the edges as she flopped on the couch.

“Live? Nah. I live out near Filevsky Park.” Her gaze wandered their surroundings with new interest, trying to piece together how it appeared to fresh eyes. Messy, probably. But a home? There wasn’t even a bed, and though she sometimes crashed on the sofa when it was really too late to take the metro home, that was never more than a couple of nights a week - depending on the projects she had going at the time, and how insistently they demanded an outlet.

The list of drinks to mumble out of Rune’s mouth were initially met with utter incomprehension, until she figured it was probably why Rune was even more animated than the last time they had met. “Um.” She laughed, good-natured and unadulterated. “Coffee do?” She had nothing else remotely caffeinated, and it was only packet stuff, but she’d downed the bitter sludge Alek served so Thal figured it'd be alright.

She tilted her head a little to see which image dangled from Rune's mouth, but otherwise let her rummage to her heart's content. Most artists were happy to mail out design work like this, and Thalia could have done, but she preferred the personal touch. Pixels on a screen could never compete with the feel and look of proper paper. “Had a rough night?” It might be considered rude to ask of a customer, but her tone was purely conversational. She tended to extend the familiarity of friendship without ever considering how some found it invasive.