[He's anyone. He gives them a receipt and a pen and simply says that they could be creative. It prompts the furtive glance around and behind them, as though expecting someone to intervene, roughly, and inform them that this must be outside the museum's regulations.
It never comes, so they simply drop to the ground, cross-legged, smoothing out the corners of the paper with the press of edges into alignment, and start to draw.
It's not especially remarkable; they default to what they know best. It's a simple flower, sprouting from the white void of the paper with a scribbled tuft of grass spritzed out at its base.
But they seem proud of it, sitting back on their heels after something like ten minutes of hard work. Ten minutes isn't the best possible window to crank out a masterpiece, but it's all they could scrape together on short notice, they think.]
no subject
It never comes, so they simply drop to the ground, cross-legged, smoothing out the corners of the paper with the press of edges into alignment, and start to draw.
It's not especially remarkable; they default to what they know best. It's a simple flower, sprouting from the white void of the paper with a scribbled tuft of grass spritzed out at its base.
But they seem proud of it, sitting back on their heels after something like ten minutes of hard work. Ten minutes isn't the best possible window to crank out a masterpiece, but it's all they could scrape together on short notice, they think.]