Dunno if I’ve mentioned it before, but artists are amazingly observant. Like scary observant. Like… you can’t get away with anything, but it’s also kinda cool because even small changes in my hair or things we do in the shop are IMMEDIATELY noticed and commented on.
But so are other things.
“So you planning on having a lot of fun this weekend?” Lee says as he walks into the office, smirking. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and has that playful look in his eyes, so I know something’s up, and they just came in from a smoke break.
“Not really,” I say. “Why?”
Ryan sidles in and chuckles in that low dirty chuckle he does. The guy is this big fucking prude and blushy and all that shit, but if he’s got something on you he chuckles like the dirties perv to ever perv. It’s adorable.
“So…,” Lee drawls, “the extra LARGE box, huh?”
Ryan loses it. He doubles over he’s laughing so hard.
Artists notice everything.
Like the large box of condoms I forgot about and left sitting on the front seat of the truck when I came into the shop today.