"A is for apple juice." Was what was written in Dave's sharp writing, almost impossible to read due to the letters scrawled nature and because of how the brushstrokes were crammed together. The little carton of apple juice painstakingly painted beneath it helped clear up the muddled meaning however. Paired with the large A standing off to the side, John supposed someone could somewhat accurately puzzle out the page's meaning. He tilted his head to the side, though he wasn't sure if that helped with the readability of the words. No, it definitely didn't. He righted his head again, before popping a question in between obnoxious snaps of his peppermint gum.
"What's that for, Dave?" Immediately after asking that, John paused in his popping of his gum to wonder about any possible reasons for the sudden burst of artistic inspiration. There were bottles and palettes of paint of all kinds (oils, water-colors, normal acrylic you could buy cheaply at the local mall, metallic paints and the rare to find bottle of glow in the dark,) scattered around on the floor. Along with that mess, paintbrushes of all kinds were chaotically thrown around, some rolling next to boxes of crayons and large construction paper sheets.
John almost impaled his foot on a pair of scissors lazing next to a large hole-puncher and a roll of ribbon, and then promptly sent a stapler skidding as he stumbled for his balance, tripping up quite a few steps. He supposes the page could be for a project Rose looped him into, or a "ironic" present for Daniel (who's birthday is fast approaching,) or perhaps he was just branching out from his shitty comics.
Dave doesn't even bother to glance up from his work, deeply steeped into carefully tracing around the plain red letters with a thin paintbrush coated in black paint to make it pop from the paper. "Casey," he grumbles out, annoyed at being interrupted in this delicate part of the progress- one slip up and he may have to restart entirely. He pauses for a moment, and then adds: "It's a birthday present, getting it out of the way now," for clarification.
Rolled up wrapping paper is suddenly kicked into view by Dave, as if he really needed to punch that fact into John's head. Sitting there, strung expertly on what appears to be braided blends of purple yarn(?) is a small, faintly glowing clay star, tumbling out after the paper. There's also a smaller band of them on another length of tightly braided yarn, this one red and blue, with even smaller stars and obviously meant for a small wrist.
"More like presents," John scoffs, but he still leans down to get a closer look at the works in progress. "you're going to spoil her rotten Dave, if you haven't already. Still, she'll like the stars." He stretches out a finger to touch the stars only to have Dave harshly smack away his hand.
"Watch it Egbert. I worked hard on those, I don't need your clumsy ass ruining it." He finishes off a delicate brushstroke before continuing. "Not to mention I'm not the one who spoils her, that's rich coming from you Egbert- remember what you did for her birthday last year?" Dave smirks, before twisting the cap of multicolored glitter off, carefully pinching out a bit and sprinkling it onto the wet paint.
John laughed, the sound cutting through the sun-raked and dust mote filled room. "Pfffft, well, that's her birthday! Every little girl should feel like a princess on that day Dave, it's special."
Dave rolled his eyes, his lips quirked up into a half smile. "My point exactly- and still Egbert, you didn't have to make us all dress up like knights and shit- that chain mail was NOT comfortable man. Plus you looked like a total tool in that what was it- prince? King outfit? Some noble shit." He looked critically at his work, and then dumped a handful of glitter onto his palm, copying the way Rose sprinkled on basil for her various cooking concoctions with minimal success.
John snorted, before sitting down on his knees next to Dave, watching him work curiously. Even as his best friend and with all the privileges that earned him, it was still a rare thing to be able to watch Dave while he was in the middle of working on something- he often got booted out of the room. Sometimes even literally. Today though, it seemed as if he had caught a break.
"Fine, fine, you win." He yawned, settling down to watch Dave work on the page. "Need any help?"
"Naw, the company's nice though." Dave replied easily, turning to flash John a lazy smile for a second, before turning back to his work.
John had to agree with him there- there wasn't a thing such as an awkward silence with Dave around, and that was one out of the countless things he loved about the Strider- they were always at ease with each other, even if there were no words to be said.
So he flashed a toothy smile back, and settled in, getting comfy.
It might be a while before the two moved after all.