"How does it feel? The air is clean, there are no rats or reptiles, three meals are free, and there are even flush toilets, running water pipes and copper basin bathtubs."
Ed took out his guest room key, opened the door, and introduced Buck.
Each agent of the East Precinct Special Operations Team has a private room in the East Precinct stronghold, but since Ed has been living in the detective station, this room has been put on hold for a long time.
After confirming with the sea monster that doing so did not violate the rules and regulations, Ed went to the Penny Inn at No. 38 Bladesmith Street and pulled Buck over.
Buck was originally indifferent to this invitation, no matter how earnestly Ed tried to persuade him - until Ed told him that there was a mental hospital across the street.
"... From today on, you can paint here. There is no room and board expenses anyway. You can treat me as a half-sponsor. As for what to paint and whether to sell it, you can decide for yourself."
Since the last time I gave him a haircut in the cellar, this guy has never trimmed his hair, and his whole body seems to be soaked by the stench of the cellar. Ed had to take him to the barber shop for a haircut, took a shower again, and changed into cheap casual clothes before he regained his normal appearance.
Buck was as quiet as a ghost behind, just nodded, noncommittal. The sleeves of the withered arms were empty, and the skinny cheeks had prominent cheekbones due to long-term malnutrition.
"You're working for the crow." He suddenly said suddenly.
After a short moment of silence, Ed's lips curved in a subtle way: "Yes, you don't have any objections to my work, do you?"
If Buck had lived here for a long time, it wouldn't be surprising if he could guess a thing or two, but Ed didn't expect that he would notice it right after he arrived.
"No, on the contrary, I am very interested in your work. After all, it is rare to have the opportunity to observe people like you."
"To be honest, I thought I had perfected my camouflage skills. What specifically made you see it? Eyes? Behavior? Temperament? Or inadvertent little movements?" Ed scratched his head.
"Overall."
"Overall?"
"There are some inexplicable feelings. If you break a plate and put it back together again, it will definitely look different from the original. I can't figure out the specific reason, but you do look like an investigator. .”
Could it be the artist's unique insight? Ed actually breathed a sigh of relief:
"Well, I guess observant people like you aren't everywhere."
"You'd better tell me directly, why did you bring me here?"
"Can't I just want to take care of my old friend?"
Buck remained silent, just staring at Ed with his golden, fire-like eyes, which made his scalp tingle.
"Okay, let's not talk nonsense. I want to buy a painting from you. Do you have any flower-themed works in your hand?"
Since Charlotte wanted a "flower that never fades", the best way is to ask someone to draw one. Although Buck's approach is different from that of orthodox painters, his talent is obvious.
"I don't keep my previous works. If you need, I can draw one from scratch for you."
"That's great -" Ed clapped his hands, "Do you need me to prepare anything for you, paint? Brush? New palette?"
"Materials, I need the right materials to start painting."
"Material? I thought a good painter should try to paint something that doesn't exist."
"Imagination is just a re-splicing based on real experience. No one can truly draw things that do not exist in reality." Buck sneered, not hiding the contempt in his tone.
"Okay, okay, you are the expert, you have the final say. What kind of materials are needed specifically?"
“It depends on what kind of piece you want or who you want to give it to.”
"Well, why don't I take you to meet her directly? Remember not to smile in front of her."
After thinking about it, Ed thought that instead of spending a long time describing it, it might be better to take him to visit Charlotte's balcony, which might inspire some inspiration.
…
"Charlotte, it's me."
Knock knock knock. Ed knocked on the door three times.
"Mr. Waikolo." Charlotte opened the door and nodded obediently.
"Ah, I brought over the painter friend I mentioned before. He wants to visit the balcony where you plant flowers, maybe he can find some inspiration and creativity."
"So that's it, then please do as you please." She took a step from the door and her tone was unusually calm, which was a sign of happiness.
When Buck walked in, Charlotte pinched her skirt with her tiny fingers and carefully observed Buck, as if she was curious about this blond boy who also had a physical disability.
Buck silently stared at the potted flowers. The light reflected in his eyes danced and rotated with the changes in the cloud gaps and the reflection of the leaves. From the original light clouds to the concentration and breathlessness, he finally just sighed:
"I can't draw it."
Can't draw?
This was the first time Ed heard this statement. He had only heard that the painter didn't know where to start, or that the composition was not satisfactory enough. He had never heard of a situation where he was "unable to paint".
"Believe me, there is not the painting you want in this balcony. Its impression is too sad. If I paint it, it will only have consequences you don't want to see."
"It doesn't matter, I'll think of other ways."
Ed took out a stack of cards from his pocket. These were things Sissy left for him. They were promotional cards and business cards he usually received when he and Anvil went out to fool around. Maybe there would be something good in them.
Amazing World of Magic, Sword Coast Grill, 'Black Elderberry' speakeasy, Jubilation Club - well, I knew this one would be there...
"Tasved Art Exhibition."
His eyes finally stopped on the card.
