⇢ 🎸 STATUS ﹕ Open. ( 1/6 ) ⇢ 🎸 TAGGING ﹕ophelia + Utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ 🎸

“It’s   such   a   comfort   food   for   me,” Signe   began,   reaching   for   a   cream   filled   bun.   She   lifted   the   bun’s   lid   and   dipped   it   into   the   mountain   of   paste   underneath   and   took   a   bite.   She   paused   mid-bite   as   the   flavors   hit   her   tongue,   her   eyebrows   raising.   She   hadn’t   expected   it   to   taste   so   spot-on.   With   a   grin,   Signe   dipped   her   finger   into   the   almond   paste   and   gave   it   a   quick   taste.   “Okay,   this,”   she   pointed   at   the   half-eaten   bun. “This   is   dangerous.”    He   flushed   at   her   compliment,   and   Signe   smiled   to   herself.   “Well,   the   effort   is   appreciated,   trouble   or   no,”   she   countered.   She   shifted   to   sit   sideways,   her   legs   curled   underneath   her. “I also   noticed   time   moved   particularly   slow   this   afternoon.”   Signe   met   his   gaze,   a   knowing   twinkle   in   her   eyes.   Charlie   leaned   back,   one   arm   propped   under   his   head,   and   a   self-assured   glint   in   his   eyes   that   screamed   he   just knew   how   it   made   him   look.   Her   pulse   skipped   a   beat   as   he   turned   his   full   attention   on   her.   It   was   more   than   just   the   effortless   flirtation   that   seemed   to   flow   out   of   him,   but   the   warmth   behind   his   gaze   –   like   he   genuinely   wanted   to   know   more.   Her   gaze   dropped,   her   fingers   fidgeting   with   the   edge   of   the   blanket   as   she   tried   to   keep   her   expression   from   betraying   how   flustered   she   was. “You did   kind   of   monologue   last   time,”   she   teased,   glancing   at   Charlie   from   underneath   her   eyelashes.   Her   eyebrows   rose,   her   eyes   blinking   rapidly   at   his   words. “Date   number   three,   huh?” Her   tone   was   light,   and   full   of   teasing. “Bold   of   you   to   assume   you’re   making   it   past   the   first   one.”   Signe   nudged   him   lightly   with   her   knee,   her   expression   a   dead   giveaway   that   she   liked   the   confidence.   Normally,   she   wasn’t   the   kind   of   girl   who   divulged   much   of   anything   beyond   the   curated   image   she   wanted   to   put   out,   but   the   way   Charlie   looked   at   her   made   her want   to   open   up.  “I’m   an   only   child,”   she   began. “My   mom’s   Chinese-Swedish,   and   my   dad’s   Danish-Swedish.   They   are   sickeningly   perfect   together   and   so   in   love.   They   had   me   super   young,   but   they’ve   given   me   absolutely everything.”   Signe   paused   as   she   thought   about   how   much   her   parents   had   sacrificed   for   her,   especially   in   those   early   years   of   their   marriage. “They’re   also   both   brilliant   –   Mamma   is   an   art   history   professor,   and   Pappa   is   an   orthopedic   surgeon.   I   actually   credit   my   mom   for   getting   me   into   fashion,   whether   or   not   she   realized   what   was   happening   in   the   moment.   I   used   to   go   with   her   to   museums   all   the   time   and   there   was   this   one   exhibit   on   medieval   fashion   in   Europe   and–”   She   smiled,   shaking   her   head   as   she   refocused   her   attention   on   Charlie.   “I   was   a   goner   from   then.   It   was   my   dirty   little   secret   for   so   long   –   until   college   applications   were   around   the   corner   and   I   just   blurted   out   that   I   wanted   to   do   fashion   design.”   Signe   chuckled   at   the   memory,   and   shrugged   her   shoulders   at   him   as   if   to   say   ‘the   rest   is   history.’

The way Signe’s face lit up at the mention of semla had Charlie’s heart damn near stumbling over itself. All the time he’d spent stressing over the food and double-checking the setup felt instantly worth it. “I had no idea it was your favorite,” he admitted, eyes crinkling with his smile, “but I’m chuffed I landed on the right one.” Her laugh, the soft and delighted kind, made his pulse quicken, and his grin grew a little sheepish. “I know, I keep sayin’ it… but I mean it. Wouldn’t sit right with me to keep it to myself.”

When she complimented the setup, he waved his hand, bashful, his own cheeks flushing pink beneath the praise. “Oh, it weren’t any trouble, promise... Honestly, it helped. Gave me somethin’ to focus on while I was waitin’.” His gaze dropped for a second, then lifted back to hers, a hint of vulnerability tucked into his smile. “Felt like time weren't movin' fast enough.”

Charlie shifted, leaning back on his elbow, stretching out onto his side as he propped his head against his hand, more relaxed now that the ice was broken. He watched her with open admiration, the glow of the setting sun casting soft gold across her features. “You know,” he continued, voice dipping into something playful but sincere, “last time we were out, I did most of the talkin’.. Told you my story, spilled me guts…” His eyes softened as they held hers. “But I don’t really know much about you yet. Feels like I’m overdue.”

Charlie’s smile turned curious, a little more inviting. “So… tell me. Fashion, family, the whole beginner’s guide to Signe. I wanna know what makes you you. What lights you up the way cookin’ does for me.” His fingers absentmindedly toyed with the corner of the blanket, though his focus stayed locked on her. There was no rush behind the words, just an easy kind of patience, the look of someone who truly wanted to listen. “Unless…” He tilted his head slightly, teasing, “you’re secretly a woman of mystery and I’m not meant to know these things until date number three?” The smirk that tugged at his mouth was soft, good-natured, but the way his eyes stayed steady on her, the way he leaned in just a touch closer, was anything but casual.

Signe   didn’t   consider   herself   extremely   bold   or   wild   by   nature,   but   there   was   something   about   the   way   Charlie   responded   to   her   teasing   that   just   lit   her   up   from   the   inside   out.   Thoroughly   pleased   to   have   affected   him   with   just   her   words,   Signe   had   settled   into   the   sofa,   waiting   expectantly.   He   asked   about   the not-so-mild   playlist   and   she   smirked   to   herself.  “I’ll   see   what   I   can   do   for   you.”   The   food   smelled   absolutely   intoxicating   and   she   found   she   was   growing   more   and   more   excited   to   try   his   food.   Of   course,   he’d   prepared   semla   for   her   on   their   first   date,   but   dessert   was   very   different   to   an   actual   meal.   She   watched   as   Charlie   carried   their   plates   over,   her   eyes   lingered   on   the   tattoos   of   his   arm   before   focusing   on   the   meal   and   enticing   scent   wafting   around   then.   “It   smells  divine.”  Signe   offered   him   a   playful   smile   as   she   accepted   the   plate,   leaning   into   the   kiss   he   pressed   to   the   top   of   her   head.  “Since   you   listed   yourself,   does   that   mean   you’re   on   the   menu   too?”  she   asked,   cheekily.   She   giggled   as   he   came   to   sit   beside   her,   thighs   pressing   together   and   she   hummed,   pleased   at   the   closeness.   She   was   about   to   dig   into   her   plate   when   Charlie   took   the   plate   back.   She   barely   had   a   chance   to   protest   when   he   cupped   her   face   and   kissed   her   senseless.   A   soft   noise   of   surprise   escaped   her   before   she   eagerly   responded   to   the   kiss,   truly   melting   into   it.   He   was  everywhere   –   his   taste   on   her   lips,   his   touch   on   her   cheek   –   and   then   he   had   the   nerve   to   pull   away   like   he   hadn’t   just   set   her   entire   nervous   system   on   fire.   Signe   barely   registered   the   movie   title   that   blinked   on   the   screen   as   she   let   out   a   slow,   stunned   breath   trying   to   calm   her   heart   galloping   in   her   rib   cage.  “Now   we   can   eat?”  she   echoed,   incredulous.   She   turned   toward   Charlie   with   narrowed   eyes,   playful   yet   dangerous.  “Because   …   what?   That   was   the   appetizer?”  Signe   reached   for   her   plate   once   more,   steadying   herself   with   a   rather   large   gulp   of   wine.  “I’ll   get   you   back   for   that.   I   thought   you   said   no   more   teasing.”   She   smirked   at   him   before   taking   a   bite   of   the   salmon   on   her   plate   and   then   groaned   in   satisfaction.   “Oh,   that   is  fantastic,”  Signe   said,   covering   her   mouth   to   finish   chewing   before   focusing   on   Charlie.  “You  made   that.”   Her   eyes   were   wide   with   wonder   at   his   ability   to   bring   together   ingredients   in   a   way   that   complimented   each   other   so   well.  “You   really are   good   at   this,   aren’t   you?”

Charlie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, warm and full-bodied, the kind that spilled out with no filter. Deep, surprised, and slightly unsteady. He stood there with a ridiculous grin, plating their food like it was a Michelin tasting, even though all he really wanted was to abandon the counter, cross to the other room, and kiss her until he forgot what restraint tasted like. He finished up the salmon and vegetables, trying to focus on not burning his fingertips or slapping down the garnish too aggressively, but it wasn’t easy. Not after that voice from the living room, all cool and tempting and laced with just enough heat to short-circuit his self-control. He shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip as he tried to refocus. "You’re tryin’ to corrupt me, love," he called back, the words slightly breathless. "That was the mild playlist? Christ." He paused, smiling as he laid down the last bit of glazed salmon with practiced precision. The smell was incredible, citrus and spice and garlic and that slight sweetness from the honey, but all he could really think about was the way her voice had wrapped around those words like a dare. Discipline, Hughes. She deserves dinner. "I’m also gonna need a link to that one. For scientific purposes."

Once everything was set, he wiped his hands and took a quiet second to breathe. Then he grabbed both plates and made his way back toward the living room, shoulders relaxed, steps easy, but eyes locked on her. He walked in, sleeves still rolled with tattoos peeking out from under, carrying their plates carefully in each hand. The way she was curled into his sofa, waiting for him not just politely, but eagerly, sent something twisting in his chest. "Alright, alright, no more teasin’," he said, presenting the plates with all the air of a man delivering a masterpiece. "Spiced glazed salmon, garlicky roasted veg, and a chef trying very hard not to get distracted by the fact that you’re actively ruining him."

He handed her the plate like it was sacred, balanced and perfect, even adding a soft "Enjoy" under his breath. He bent to press a kiss to the top of her head, one hand lingering briefly on her shoulder as if to ground himself. Then he circled around, setting his own plate down before sinking into the couch beside her, closer than before. Their thighs touched, and he didn’t bother pretending it was accidental. He picked up his own plate, but only for a moment. Then, in a sudden, quiet decision, he set it back down. He turned to her, gaze steady and lips tugged into a smile just shy of smirking. "Actually," he said, reaching gently to take her plate from her hands, catching her gaze with something more heated now. Something inevitable. Before she could respond, he gently set it down on the coffee table without ever breaking eye contact. Then he leaned in, swift and sure, cupping her face with both hands as he kissed her. Properly. No teasing. No testing. Just all of it. Want, gratitude, affection, need. Like he’d held back long enough and decided, finally, to let it land. He hummed into the kiss, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek, savoring the way she responded. It took effort, actual, physical effort, to pull away. When he did, he rested his forehead against hers for a beat, catching his breath, smiling like he’d just won something he hadn’t realized he was competing for. "Right," he said, voice low and a little hoarse. "Now we can eat." Charlie leaned back, lips tucked in, still biting down a grin as he reached for the remote. He hit play, finally, but he didn’t move away. His thigh stayed resting on hers, plate now in his lap, ready to experience her favorite movie, and whatever else this night would bring.

The   way   Charlie   was   looking   at   her–like   she   was   the   only   thing   that   mattered–made   it   impossible   for   Signe   to   think   straight.   The   kiss   he   pressed   to   the   back   of   her   hand   sent   a   shiver   up   her   spine   and   even   though   she   tried   to   hide   it,   her   breath   hitched   just   enough   to   betray   her.   Her   heart   was   slamming   against   her   ribs   so   loudly,   she   was   certain   he   could   hear   it.   She   opened   her   mouth   once.   Closed   it.   Tried   again,   but   all   that   came   out   was   a   breathy   little   laugh   that   sounded   way   too   much   like   a   gasp.  “I–you–”  she   stammered,   feeling   the   heat   crawl   up   her   neck   all   the   way   to   the   tips   of   her   ears.  “You’re   not–you   can’t   just   say things   like   that   and   expect   me   to   function,   Charlie   Hughes,”    she   reprimanded   although   there   was   no   heat   in   her   words,   only   her   face.   Then   he   started   talking   about   her   wearing   her   own   designs   and   Signe   thought   she   might   actually   melt   into   the   floor.   Without   ever   seeing   her   designs,   he   made   he   feel   like   her   work–like she–   was   something   worth   admiring   like   that.   Signe   let   out   a   breath   she   hadn’t   realized   she   was   holding,   a   smile   tugging   at   her   lips.  “I   guess   it’s   only   fair,”    she   said,   her   voice   still   breathless,   threaded   with   something   that   matched   the   softness   he   offered.  “You’ll   stare,   and   I’ll   be   quietly   losing   my   mind   every   time   you   look   at   me   like   that.”   It   was   meant   to   be   a   joke   but   even   that   revealed   too   much.   She   laughed,   light   and   awkward,   and   ducked   to   hide   her   face   in   his   shoulder   for   a   moment   because   it   was   either   that   or   actually   lose   her   mind.   She   took   a   moment   to   steady   herself   before   pulling   back   just   enough   to   look   up   at   him   again,   her   eyes   shining   and   cheeks   burning,   and   gave   him   a   helpless   little   smile.  “You’re   already   ruining me...   Take   some   responsibility   will   you?”

“Just wanted to hear ya say it.” Charlie’s body swayed a little where he sat, clearly pleased with her answer, delight dancing in his expression as he looked over at her without even a flicker of hesitation. “Lucky for you, love,” he added smoothly, “I’ve got no plans to deny ya anything you want.” His voice dipped just enough to make the words feel like more than teasing. Without letting go of her hand, he lifted it between them, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss to the back of her fingers, slow, deliberate, like the moment deserved more than a joke.

When she brought up the contract, his grin kicked back into place, easy and wide. He leaned closer, their hands still laced, and gave the smallest tilt of his head, that boyish glint in his eyes returning. “Think we could make it a verbal agreement then, yeah? I’m afraid my hand’s a bit occupied at the moment... super important business.” Charlie glanced up at her through his lashes, smile soft but playful, clearly enjoying the game she was playing, and happy to meet her there.

But when she spoke about wearing her own designs, his expression shifted, that teasing smile softening into something gentler. The way she answered, hesitating and thoughtful, had him leaning in just a touch, genuinely curious now. “I’d actually really like that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, earnest, even as the corners of his mouth still tugged upward. “If you’re comfortable, of course. I mean… sketches are one thing.. but you? Wearin’ something you made with your own hands?” His smile broke a little wider, a quiet laugh huffing out of him like he couldn’t quite believe how sincere he sounded. “That’s what I’d call art, yeah?”

He gave a small shrug, but the admiration was written all over his face as his gaze stayed locked on hers, softer than before, the flirtation not gone, but folded now into something sweeter, something real. “Fair warning though,” he added, leaning in just enough to close the space between them again, looking both ways like this was top secret information, “I’ve got a terrible habit of starin’ when I’m impressed. And somethin’ tells me I’d be absolutely ruined watchin’ you in one of your own designs.” His lips curved, eyes gleaming, but the look he gave her wasn’t just about charm, it was full of that growing ache he couldn’t quite hide anymore. Like he already knew he was in trouble with her. And maybe he liked it that way.

Ophelia's   lips   lifted   into   an   understanding   smile.   There   was   a   familiar   look   in   the   girl's   eyes   --   one   that   she   would   recognize   from   a   million   miles   away.   That   quiet   kind   of   ache   that   came   from   longing   for   something   you   used   to   love.   She   remembered   when   she'd   first   arrived   in   Palmview   and   how   she's   been   unable   to   even   look   at   her   guitar   for   months.   "Don't   worry   about   it,"   she   said   gently,   waving   off   the   apology.   "Yeah,   I   sing.   Write   too.   Mostly   sad   girl   stuff,"   she   added   with   a   laugh.   "And   trust   me,   I   get   it.   Moving   can   throw   everything   off.   I   was   the   same   when   I   first   moved   here."   Lia   paused   for   a   beat,   tilting   her   head   as   she   studied   the   girl.   "But   you're   still   writing.   That's   good!   Sometimes   just   showing   up   to   the   page   is   enough."   She   bit   her   lip,   hesitating   before   deciding   to   add,   “What   kind   of   music   do   you   write?”

blair  hadn't  really  done  much  singing  in  sometime  now.  she'd  kind  of  forgotten  about  it.  moving  here  in  the  first  place  had  been  keeping  her  busy  enough  as  well  as  her  job,  trying  to  get  used  to  things  around  here  and  managing  some  other  tasks.  it  had  seemed  like  she  almost  barely  had  the  time  in  her  schedule  to  do  any  of  this.  the  blonde  glanced  down  at  the  guitar  ...  a  simple  reminder  of  her  past  and  what  it  probably  would've  been  like  if  she  got  back  into  it  and  started  it  up  again.  "  sorry...  didn't  mean  to  stare.  "  not  realizing  that  she  had  been  daydreaming  for  a  second  before  looking  up  at  the  other.  "  you're  a  singer?  "  she  automatically  assumed  from  seeing  the  guitar.  "  i  was  one  for  a  little  while..  or  should  i  say  starting  to  be  one.  kind  of  stopped  for  a  bit  when  i  moved  here  not  long  ago.  i  have  been  writing  a  bit  but  nothing  that  i  feel  good  about  putting  out  yet.  "  she  just  realized  that  she  had  been  rambling  to  someone  she  hadn't  even  met  until  now.  "  and  i'm  rambling  ─  sorry  it's  become  a  bit  of  a  habit  of  mine.  "

The   way   Charlie   lit   up   when   he   talked   about   his   time   in   Denmark,   the   way   he   described   her   people   with   a   kind   of   reverence   had   her   feeling   like   something   warm   curled   up   in   her   chest.   She   hadn’t   expected   the   way   he   said it’s   a   date   with   such   ease   it   had   her   heart   tripping   up   a   little.   She   liked   listening   to   him   talk   –   his   words   earnest   and   unfiltered   –   about   his   passion   for   cooking,   for   growth,   about   his   mum.   There   was   a   quiet   sort   of   intensity   to   him   that   drew   her   in.   She   hadn’t   realized   how   close   they   were   until   her   skin   touched   his,   and   her   eyes   widened   though   she   didn’t   pull   away   when   Charlie   focused   his   gaze   on   her   and   placed   his   hand   over   her   own.   Then   he   said   the   words   –  Would   you   wanna   let   me   take   you   out   sometime?  Signe   blinked,   just   once,   as   if   double-checking   that   this   was,   in   fact,   her   life.   She   felt   the   warmth   on   her   face   before   she   recognized   that   she   was   blushing   something   awful.   Signe   let   out   a   soft,   nervous   laugh,   the   corners   of   her   mouth   tilting   up   into   a   bashful   curve.   Not   her   practiced,   polite   smile,   but   a   genuine   expression.   She   glanced   down   at   their   joined   hands,   then   back   up   at   him–suddenly   feeling   shy,   a   little   stunned,   but  definitely   interested.   Realizing   she’d   gone   quiet   for   a   beat   too   long,   Signe   cleared   her   throat   and   took   a   small   step   back,   gently   untangling   her   hands   from   his.   “I–yeah,”  she   breathed,   tucking   her   hair   behind   her   ears   just   to   give   her   hands   something   to   do.  “Yes.   Please.   I’d   really   like   that.”   But,   of   course,   the   words   didn’t   stop   there.  “There’s   a   bonfire   party   coming   up–we   could   go   together?   Or,   I   mean,   you   asked   me   out,   so   obviously   you   should   decide.   Wait,   I   didn’t   mean   to   hijack   your   plan.   You   know   what?   Forget   I   said   anything,”   Her   face   remained   flushed,   but   there   was   a   hint   of   amusement   flickering   in   her   eyes.  “I’m   terrible   at   this,   clearly.”

“My specialty? Alright then.” Charlie’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile. “It’s a date.” His eyes lit up when she mentioned her summers in Denmark, and the warmth in his tone deepened. “You lot are somethin’ else. I’ve never had to be so precise in my life, Signe. Everythin’ had to be exact. And they’re dead talented, yeah? Scarily good. I’ve never been so nervous to mess up. But they were all so kind about it, which made it worse somehow. Like… it felt less like I’d be lettin’ them down and more like I’d be lettin’ myself down. That’s how they get you.” He laughed lightly, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “They build you up without sayin’ much at all. It’s clever. Makes you want to be better.”

Charlie hadn’t meant to say so much. He rarely did. Usually, he kept it simple, “I’ve always loved food” or “some of my favorite memories are in the kitchen with my mum". They were easy, safe versions of the truth. But Signe made it feel different. The way she listened. The way she looked at him like she already saw the rest of the story. And then she stopped him.

Her hand wrapped gently around his forearm, and the warmth of her skin against his pulled him back into the moment. His breath caught before he even realized it had left him. His eyes flicked down to where she held him, then back up to hers own, steady and unwavering. “I’m glad I found my way here too.” His voice came out quieter now, stripped of performance. Just truth. 'You were healing'. Somehow it was exactly what he needed to hear.

He huffed out a breath, half a laugh, half a release, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and admiration. “You don’t even know the full story,” he murmured, “and I think you still nailed it.” Without thinking, or maybe thinking too much, he shifted, sliding his hand down to hers, curling his fingers gently around it. “Signe.. Would you wanna let me take you out sometime? A proper date. I mean, I’ll cook for you whenever you want, but I’d like to take you out too. Just us. Somewhere we’re not talkin’ shop.” He searched her expression, his smile crooked and sincere. “Only if you’re interested. No pressure. I just… I’d like to get to know you. Outside of all this.”

Maggie Q

#𝐁𝐲𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐞: a study in soft things

Jodi Anasta as Elly Conway & Zoe Cramond as Amy Williams NEIGHBOURS (1985 - ) Episode 7813 (2018)

Signe   let   out   an   amused   laugh,   caught   somewhere   between   flattered   and   self-conscious at the praise,   and   shook   her   head.   “No,   not   really.   I   design   clothes   so   most   of   what   I   do   is   sketch   –   but   my   mother   is   an   art   history   professor,”   she   said,   by   way   of   explanation.   “I   used   to   trail   her   around   museums   and   sitting   in   her   office   while   she   taught   classes.   It   was   hard   not   to   pick   up   a   few   things   about   how   to   analyze   art.”   She   glanced   over   at   the   stranger,   eyes   narrowed   playfully.  “What   I’m   sensing   is   that   you   do   paint?   And   you’re   trying   to    trick   me   into   saying   something   wildly   pretentious   so   you   can   out-articulate   me.” 

“  i'm  not  sure  i  could  put  it  any  better  ,  ”  clark  smiles  ,  amused  at  the  other's  ramblings  .  blue  hues  move  over  to  the  artist  card  ,  “  acrylic  is  right  .  it  must've  taken  ages  to  make  .  do  you  paint  ?  or  are  you  just  an  enjoyer  of  it  ?  ”  sure  clark  could've  put  his  own  spin  on  things  ,  adding  to  the  discourse  — sharing  his  deepest  thoughts  on  the  work  in  question  .  but  that  would've  taken  all  of  the  fun  out  of  picking  someone  else's  brain  about  it  .  besides  ,  clark  could  get  into  technical  details  all  day  .  it's  really  the  emotion  behind  it  that  matters  ,  no  ?  “  all  of  that  is  to  say  you  should  definitely  keep  rambling  .  it's  refreshing  .  most  people  just  take  a  glance  and  move  onward  like  it's  nothing  .  ” 

Signe   observed   the   unfamiliar   man   curiously,   his   easy   smile   and   warm   energy   holding   the   kind   of   casual   charm   that   made   friends   out   of   strangers   quickly.   His   accent   caught   her   attention   first,   and   then,   finally,   she   registered   the   question.   She   laughed   softly,   shaking   her   head   sending   her   wild   curls   flying.  “No,   no,   this   isn’t   my   medium,”  she   replied,   a   polite   smile   gracing   her   lips.   Although   he   didn’t   say   she   was   in   his   way,   Signe   stepped   aside   anyway   to   give   him   a   better   view.  “It’s   gorgeous   though.   I   was   just   thinking   it   reminds   me   of   something   my   mom   studied   –   she’s   an   art   history   professor.   I   can   already   hear   her   commentary   in   my   head.”   She   cleared   her   throat,   slightly   embarrassed   that   it   took   her   all of two   seconds   to   mention   her  mom   while   talking   to   a   handsome   stranger.   Signe   tucked   a   piece   of   hair   behind   her   ear   and   refocused   on   the   painting.  “You’re   right   though,   it’s brilliant.   I’ve   been   trying   to   figure   out   how   they   got   the   colors   to   look   like   that,”  she   murmured   the   last   part   almost   to   herself,   once   again   losing   herself   for   a   few   too   long   moments   before   she   resolved   to   experiment   later.   Signe   glanced   back   at   the   man,   curious   now.  “Are   you   into   art,   or   just   wandering   by?”

There was little Charlie loved more than having a free day before his shift at the restaurant. He'd spent time in some of the most beautiful places in the world, but the charm of his new home called to him. On days when he didn't have to be in until dinner he'd sleep in, cook himself a ridiculous breakfast, and pick an area to roam. Today's pick was Mango Bay, considering it was the same neighborhood as his job.

He'd already gone to a few shops before walking towards the art district. While Charlie did have a few talents, art was not one of them. He hadn't grown up in an area where it was appreciated, or at least not in his house. His mother spent the majority of her time working to pay for his blossoming career and when his father was around, the last thing they'd speak about was art. But on days when he'd walk home from training, he'd always stare at the murals; the ones left by graffiti artists that would be painted over soon enough, and wonder who'd made them.

Now, living somewhere that art had been celebrated, he'd tried to immerse himself a bit more. He hadn't realized that his mind was wandering, his eyes stuck on a canvas, until he'd heard a voice speaking to him. "Wh- Oh! Oh, nah, sorry." Charlie's head shook quickly, lifting his hand to point at the painting she'd also been admiring, "It's brilliant, innit? Did you paint it?"