Disclaimer: I don't own nuffin'. Actually, that's doubly negating a sentence making it positive, so…I own nuffin'. Better? Just a one-shot that popped into my head and threatened to kill all the other things in there until put on a Word document.
Vicki strode into Henry's apartment, numerous case files in hand and all-business set jaw line. His door was open anyway.
"You shouldn't leave your door open. Never know what might walk in." She shouted, though she couldn't see him at the moment.
"I suppose you'd be the proof." He replied from his studio. She headed in that direction, but froze at the scene before her.
Henry was standing in front of a canvas, much larger than the drawing paper he usually used, twirling a brush between his fingers. A multitude of pencils, pens, and brushes rested behind one of his ears, and it was truly a small miracle that they even stayed there with no spillage. He sucked on his lower lip, staring at the half-finished painting of huge dogs tearing apart an as-of-yet faceless person in the lower corner of the picture. It was truly a gruesome sight, or would have been, had it been finished. At the moment, however, the person was just a vague white blobby shape with a few penciled-in dashes and lines to give the suggestion that he or she was missing at least one limb. Actually, the only part with color so far was the front half of the dogs, which, compared to the human, were likely at least three or four times the size of a large Great Dane. There were three of them, and each had blood, muscle and other lovely such things hanging from their teeth.
"Gee." Vicki commented. "School mural?"
"I was bored." He replied, still staring at it, brow furrowed in thought.
"Well, don't stop on my account." Vicki informed him, hands held up defensively as she backed out of the room.
"I can't figure out how to give them legs. You wouldn't think putting legs on hellhounds would be so difficult." He frowned. Or pouted, rather.
"Well, I haven't done it for years. Can't say I remember." She cocked one eyebrow quizzically. "Who's the lucky recipient of the legless wonders?" she asked, indicating the anonymous victim.
He smiled to himself. "Guess." She snorted.
"Bill Nye the Science Guy?" He turned his head in her direction.
"Who?"
"Never mind." She rolled her eyes behind his back. "Pretentious little…"
"I heard that." He muttered, a smile twitching at his lips. He sighed and added the brush he was holding to the mass behind his ear, trading it for a drawing pencil. Faster than is human, he began to sketch out the grim details of the man. Though she'd somewhat expected it, Vicki couldn't hide a tiny smile at the figure it took on. Then, a tiny frown.
Smile.
Frown.
Grin.
Pout. The drawing was now perfectly clear.
"Henry!" she whacked him in the arm as he put the finishing touches on Mike Celluci, Destitute Of Left Arm.
"I seem to remember telling you I'd do this." He countered, grinning impishly.
"Not on a four by five canvas!" He suppressed a chuckle at her reaction.
"What are you going to do with it?" She asked earnestly, hoping he wouldn't hang it in his own apartment. Mike didn't come around often, but if he did…
"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll make it the cover of my new novel."
"You know, four hundred eighty or not, you're such a seventeen year old." She accused, a smile tugging at her lips.
"I'm a mature seventeen." He replied. She just snorted and turned towards the pile of files that she'd dropped on his desk.
"Come on, Monet, I've got some stuff for you to do."
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