"This is perfect."
Relief flooded her body at Damon's words, but apprehension was quick to fill her veins.
"Well, these are just some sketches I've come with in the meantime."
All the doors were closed in her home as if it was a guide that led Damon back to the spare room she used for storage and for her studio. She was apologetic when he first entered, excusing the mess by letting him know she was in the process of moving, to which he replied offering his help.
It could have been a coincidence, but she never really believed in those types of things. Love at first sight was just a chemical reaction in the same way that déjà vu was a memory phenomenon. Yet, there Damon was right in front of her and she wasn't sure she wanted to turn to science to explain it.
It repeated like that. Damon would come bearing coffee-related gifts and the utmost encouragement. Each time, she'd become more comfortable with having him linger past their newly scheduled hour meetings.
"Regardless," Damon shook his head, shuffling the papers around again, "I think it's good."
The artist in her noted how Damon had first complimented with perfect, but now had downgraded to good. It sent her brain whirling into things that she could adjust to keep it at the quality she thought he was looking for.
"It looks busy now" She still resisted despite his persistence, "But once I actually start, the colors will help tone all of this..." She drew in a deep breath that she held in her cheeks until she finished her sentence, "...down."
Damon's eyes followed her movements as she pointed to various things, letting him know the blank spots were only temporary and her scribbling notes would be covered with flora. It was a still life, nothing overly complicated, but she wanted him to know she wouldn't rush any details. When she finished her sad excuse of an explanation, she saw how soft Damon's smile was.
"Can I ask you something?" He always knew how to divert the conversation, either with some clever quip or something completely blunt.
"You can ask me anything." Damon's intonation held nothing but charm.
She was unsure of how to phrase her thoughts into a question. She wanted to get started on the project she'd laid out in front of them, but she knew little would get it done with him actually standing there. It was the exact reason why she took her time before seeing Damon for preparation. Today's plans, though, were less formulated than others.
The project was a few months in the making and Damon had been nothing but supportive of her gradual pace. She knew he was far more preoccupied with his own work, but his schedule seemed to clear up to fit hers perfectly every few weeks.
"Who is this for?"
It was a veiled way of asking if her time was being wasted or if her work was only destined to be exploited. Damon's laugh helped offer her some reassurance, but it wasn't enough of an answer.
He was deflecting like she'd expected him to, "What are you doing tonight?"
She scoffed slightly, "You're looking at it."
"It's a Friday night," Damon reminded her. The days were lost to her. If he had asked her any sooner, she'd tell him it felt like a Wednesday with no hope in sight. "There's a bar I've been wanting to try out...heard the drinks are cheap and strong if you're interested."
She hadn't accepted the invitation off the bat, lamely blaming her old-woman tendencies for the reason she couldn't join him late at night. Yet, about an hour or so before the original invitation, she called Damon asking him if he was hungry. She had no plan for if he had said yes, which he had.
