In response, the Fool flashes him a smile full of sly humour. "Naturally."
The work of cooking the resins and the oils and thinners required to turn all these basic ingredients into varnish is time consuming, and requires enough attention to detail that the restless wheels of Devin's mind have plenty to keep them busy. Truthfully they spend more of their time over the stove than at the work station, though there is a bit of back and forth as ingredients and tools are carried back and forth between locations. The Fool walks Devin through the steps of the process in his usual way, with enough light-hearted and breezy whimsy to almost verge upon carelessness, though never quite venturing that far. When at last the varnish can be poured, all gleaming golden brown, into a jar for storage, a few hours have past and the sounds of midday traffic and activity can be heard filtering in through the open window.
Sighing, the Fool at last drops back down onto the chair at his work station, though he more drapes himself across it than looks as though he's about to set to work. Absently, he peels off his work gloves and sets them aside, temporarily revealing the silvered fingertips of one hand in the process. "There is still much left to do," he tells Devin wearily, "but I think we have earned a bit of rest."
He tilts his head to prop his chin against his curled fingers, regarding Devin through a few loose strands of hair. Then he reaches out a slim hand for his, beckoning him closer towards the other empty chair at the table.
no subject
In response, the Fool flashes him a smile full of sly humour. "Naturally."
The work of cooking the resins and the oils and thinners required to turn all these basic ingredients into varnish is time consuming, and requires enough attention to detail that the restless wheels of Devin's mind have plenty to keep them busy. Truthfully they spend more of their time over the stove than at the work station, though there is a bit of back and forth as ingredients and tools are carried back and forth between locations. The Fool walks Devin through the steps of the process in his usual way, with enough light-hearted and breezy whimsy to almost verge upon carelessness, though never quite venturing that far. When at last the varnish can be poured, all gleaming golden brown, into a jar for storage, a few hours have past and the sounds of midday traffic and activity can be heard filtering in through the open window.
Sighing, the Fool at last drops back down onto the chair at his work station, though he more drapes himself across it than looks as though he's about to set to work. Absently, he peels off his work gloves and sets them aside, temporarily revealing the silvered fingertips of one hand in the process. "There is still much left to do," he tells Devin wearily, "but I think we have earned a bit of rest."
He tilts his head to prop his chin against his curled fingers, regarding Devin through a few loose strands of hair. Then he reaches out a slim hand for his, beckoning him closer towards the other empty chair at the table.