Table Hog (Ant!)

[Alexander McKenzie]

With exams almost over, Alex was starting to really feel like he could relax. He was planning on going back to Chicago for a few weeks to visit with his parents over the summer, though he would likely tote a few textbooks along with him. Just because it was summer break didn't mean he could slack. He dreaded coming back next semester having forgotten everything from the past two. There was a lot to cover, and slacking would land him in trouble.

He'd already written an exam that morning, and with no classes for the rest of the afternoon, he'd headed down to his favorite coffee hangout for a bit before going back to his apartment. His shoulder length hair kept falling into his eyes, despite the fact he had most of it back in a small ponytail. Maybe it really was time to get it cut.

It seemed like the after lunch rush was starting to heat up, with the Velvent Tone getting busier and busier, and here he was with a combination of medical textbooks, notebooks, and a sketchbook all over the small booth. Well, if someone needed the other seat, he could share. Until then, he would keep doing what he was doing.

That was currently trying to read and draw at the same time. He'd read a few passages, then work on the drawing for a few moments, then go back to reading. It was making both processes slow, but he didn't mind. It was keeping his brain from malfunctioning from sheer information overload.

Due to the weather, Alex had opted for a t-shirt and cargo short combination for the day. So used to the fact that people stared at the tattooed artwork winding up both arms, he had long ago stopped actually caring what they thought. He had better things to do than care about what other people thought.

Like hogging booths in coffee shops.

[Antosha Vikenti]

Exams, while important, weren't all that stressing for the Russian. Granted he needed to do well or his whole future would be screwed, but he actually didn't worry that much about the act of taking the exams. Besides even when he got done with exams it wasn't the end of the road for him. After exams and final grades, the Russian would have to rush to take the final tests in order for him to be able to become a teacher. Well, in order for him to be able to get a job as a teacher in any case.

Antosha had actually just left Hammel for the day, having spent time helping out Devon. So he was still wearing his traditional "work" outfit which consisted of dark grey dressy jeans, a button down black shirt, and dress shoes. Typically the Russian would be heading home to check his animals weren't destroying anything, but he had classes later and he didn't want to get too distracted by something at home that he'd risk leaving late and missing an exam.

Instead Ant opted for visiting his favorite coffee shop. He pulled up into the busy parking lot, reaching into the back of the hearse to grab his black leather messenger bag housing his studying material. Once it was in his hands, Antosha climbed out of his rather eccentric choice of car and headed inside the coffee shop only to be bombarded once more with a crowd of people.

Really, what were they putting in the coffee? Antosha chuckled to himself as he pushed his was to the counter to order his coffee, glancing around the shop with interest to try and locate a free spot. There were a couple empty chairs here and there but his amber eyes were immediately drawn to the empty booth seat occupied only by a rather attractive looking male and books.

Antosha took the coffee once his order was filled and walked over to the table, smirking down at the male. His eyebrow raised in interest when he realized the male was studying and drawing at the same time.

"Would you mind if I took the other spot?" He asked, his deep voice rumbling from within his chest. It was husky from his years and smoky, though not yet reaching the "unattractive" smokers husk since he just had the gravely voice used in the bedroom. "What are you drawing if don't mind..?"

[Alexander McKenzie]

Alex would just be happy when he was finished school. Granted, that would mean long hours of practical experience in a clinical or hospital setting, but it would be a welcome change from being chained to a desk and listening to lectures all day long. At least next year they would start a little more hands-on work, and not everything would be strictly memorization. Despite his early exposure to the medical field, sometimes it felt like it did nothing helpful for him in class. Well. Maybe one day.

Hell, he’d ace whenever they got into an oncology unit. Until then, he’d made do with the knowledge he’d gained through a full year and a half of nursing, and the little he knew from his own lab work over the years.

He paid the line little mind as he continued reading and sketching. Unless someone asked him to move, he figured he could stay for at least a little longer. He wouldn’t even mind sharing if it was needed. Some company might even be nice. Despite spending all day surrounded by other students, there wasn’t a heck of a lot of socializing. Mostly because there wasn’t time. He barely saw his fiancée during the day, and if they weren’t studying or having dinner together after classes, they usually just parted ways after a quick goodbye and she’d head to her dorm while he headed back to his apartment in Pilot Ridge.

Oh well. Summer was coming.

The voice made him glance up, the question taking a moment to process. When it did, he quickly pulled his books a little closer to himself. “Yeah, of course. Sorry. Taking up a whole table here.” Hopefully that had made enough room for the other man.

The second question made him smile, and without hesitation he flipped the workbook around to show him the fox sketch he had been working on. Currently he was detailing the fur. “Just this. Saw a fox on my way to class the other day under a bench, and figured it’d make a good drawing.”

His attention wandered slightly to the tattoo sleeves running down both his new company’s arms. “I like your artwork. Did you draw it all yourself?” He only asked because he had designed 95% of his own tattoos himself.

[Antosha Vikenti]

"Doesn't matter to me." He chuckled gently while sliding into the booth opposite of the stranger. It was the truth that the other was taking up the entire table, but Antosha felt no desire to bring it up. After all he'd done the same thing himself on numerous occasions. Usually it was because he didn't want company but that didn't seem to be the strangers reasoning here (if his willingness to share was anything to go by). A small smile was offered to the stranger as he spoke, "I am Antosha."

Amber eyes lit with interest as the stranger moved the book around and Antosha leaned forward slightly to study the design on the page. It really was a simple fox. The fact made Antosha smile. It was rare the Russian male would draw wildlife, so to see others do it always made him happy and slightly confused. His own work tended to be heavily filled with landscapes and his favorite subject- people. The only time he could say for certain that he drew animals was when he was asked to do a self portrait. If only because he turned in paintings of large cats more often than actual drawings of himself. "It is good... Are you an artist or going to school for art?" He spoke up finally, leaning back to take a sip of his burning coffee.

As the stranger's arm wandered over his sleeves, Antosha could not help but smile some. "Not all of it. Some was drawn for me when my skill was not suitable." He explained gently, still smiling. Black nailed fingers reached down to stroke one particular tattoo- an inverted cross on his forearm ((please note it is inverted to other people, so the top of the cross is towards his wrist)) with a "V" overlaid on it. "This was a work of mine. Very basic, though."

((OOC: sorry it is short

So more on the tat. The cross is a stark black but the "V" is a deep red, like blood once it has pooled up.

Symbolism might be lost so I'm just gunna explain what it means to him-
-The inverted cross is actually not meaning it's punkish counterpart. ((Aka the association to the anarchy symbol, or the pentagram/demon thing)) Instead Antosha means it to be "freedom". Freedom from the bonds of structure, from church, from all you know. It means to not listen to what other's are feeding you. To think for yourself. But to remember that you are not above everything, that you are not the law itself, that you will always answer to only one higher power. Even if the higher power varies. But that the higher power can often be wrong.
-The "V" is more symbolizing freedom, from common social confines as well. But this he feels focuses more on knowing you can stand up for yourself, that you should never fear for your freedom being taken away. But the color is also a nod to the fact no war is without bloodshed and there are always prices you must pay for that freedom.

[Alexander McKenzie]

At least the older man didn’t seem too concerned with the fact that he was hogging the table in a spectacular fashion. A lot of the university and college students flocked to the Velvet Tone, so it wasn’t like it was an unusual sight for a student to have papers everywhere. Smiling back, he offered his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Antosha. I’m Alex.” Once his hand was released, he took a moment to slide his thick black rimmed glasses back in place. The things always slid down when he was drawing.

He’d never minded sharing his artwork with others that seemed interested. He never really had anything particularly private or racy in his notebooks, and if he did he just made sure to be the one in control of the sharing. The fox was innocent enough for viewing, even if he wasn’t quite finished with him. The question, however, made him shake his head. “Not really. It’s just a hobby. I haven’t taken actual art classes since I was in high school.” He didn’t specify which high school, because he knew Hammel was usually supposed to be on the down low. “I’m actually in nursing school right now.” Which probably looked like an odd fit on the surface, but he had his reasons. Though the taller man looked older, he thought he might have seen him around once or twice. It was just hard to tell if it had been at university, or at Hammel. Time seemed to blur together now he’d been away a few years. “Are you still in school, or...?” Because it was hard to tell sometimes, and he didn’t want to come off as rude.

Alex could relate to that. Though he wanted to take credit for his ribbon, all he’d had at the time was the concept of having a long, thick orange support ribbon twisting up his arm. Despite being underage, he’d had his parents’ support, and a great artist helping him design it. After he’d turned eighteen, he’d been thrilled to experiment and design other things. A shameful amount of money had gone into his body art since then, but he didn’t regret a single one. “I get that.” He gingerly touched the ribbon on his arm. “I got this one when I was sixteen, and all I had was an idea. A really good artist helped me design it like it is now.” He didn’t mind that a lot of people didn’t get that it was a support ribbon unless they saw the telltale loop at the very top of his arm. Plus the word ‘survivor’ helped, too. As for Antosha’s, it was simple enough. He didn’t ask what it meant, simply because that was art. What something meant to one person could mean something entirely different to another. “I like it. Basic can be good.” He had multiple constellations marked out with only tiny stars. And his ribbon was fairly simple. The other arm was a nearly complete sleeve stitched together with multiple things. A lotus flower was a newer addition, but he also had a number of almost childish looking furry blobby things. Some of them were based on drawings he’d done as a child in the hospital. They helped remind him that he was going to stay out for good.

[Antosha Vikenti]

Antosha nodded briefly before taking the male's hand and shaking it with a gentle smile. He let go a little quickly, not fully comfortable with the full act of hand shaking. The Russian liked contact for sure but there was something strictly unnerving about the whole process of handshaking. If only because he was never quite sure what pressure to use or how many times to shake.

Antosha gave the other a rueful smile at the confession of no art classes. He wouldn't lie about it and say he was overly thrilled than someone with such talent was just using it for a hobby, but if it made the person happy then Antosha really had no complaints. "Possibly for the best, art classes are not so much fun anymore." He smiled some and nodded his head, taking another drink before responding. "A nurse? Will you be at hospital or a school after graduating?" That summed up Ant's knowledge of nurses. He didn't really mind that the occupation and the ink clad man wouldn't match by normal definition, since the male had been friendly enough Antosha had to believe his bedside manner was just as hospitable. At the next question Antosha gave a soft nod before explaining. "Finishing my senior year currently to get my teaching degree. During summer I will do program so I can teach and then will be going to... My old high school to teach art."

Amber eyes studied the orange ribbon twisting around the male's skin, making note of the way the other touched it. Obviously it was something important to the other and had Antosha known Alex better he might have even inquired as to the reasoning. However he had a sense of not asking strangers the meaning of their tattoos, since they were usually highly personal. He nodded briefly and smiled gently at Alex. "I got my first one at eighteen. Didn't get sooner in fear I would grow too much and ruin it all." He explained, reaching behind him to tap his shoulder blade where the first tattoo was located. With that he glanced over the other's sleeve and nodded, smiling more. "At least I am not alone with having spent insane money on tattoos, da? Unless you have some special deal with the artists you are no sharing?"

((Short. I know. I don't care.))

[Alexander McKenzie]

Alex had been brought up with a very particular set of manners instilled into him by his parents, so shaking hands with a new acquaintance was second nature to the nursing student. The speed that Antosha let go at didn’t bother him. He simply settled his hand back on the table without comment. Maybe shaking was weird coming from someone his age, but if he didn’t, it would feel...well. Weird.

“I think art classes stop being fun when you’re expected to do specific assignments. My high school wasn’t bad with giving freedom for some assignments, but it was hard to get excited for things like still life.” He loved the freedom that doing art as a hobby offered. He could draw what he wanted, when he wanted, and no one could say otherwise. “They also ran an art club, though, which was a lot of fun.” There had been no real rules there, and he’d thrived in the club. Now he was in university, he didn’t have time for that kind of thing, sadly. If the university even ran an art club. He’d never really investigated it. As for the question, he smiled as he thought about it. “Hospital, hopefully. I want to end up working in pediatrics.” He’d just have to hope that his mannerisms made up for his appearance so that he wouldn’t scare the kids.

He lit up when the taller man said he was going to teach art. “That’s great. The world needs more talented art teachers.” Rather than the ones he remembered as a kid that was more or less a glorified babysitter and let the students run wild with finger paints and glitter.

He laughed softly at Antosha’s reasoning for not getting many prior to turning eighteen. It was a problem that Alex hadn’t really thought much about at the time, but it made sense for most people. “That’s smart. I really didn’t grow much beyond fifteen, so I didn’t think about ruining it.” Not that it really would have mattered. The ribbon was simple enough that it might have survived a growth spurt, had he been fortunate enough to have one more. A shy smile took over at the question. “No secrets, no. My parents never minded pitching in when I was younger, but once I hit university and they paid most of my tuition, I couldn’t ask them to help with them too. I saved a lot of money from my job, too. I worked a lot before I graduated high school.” Now that he’d gotten his phoenix tattooed on his chest, he was also done for the foreseeable future. Besides, he had to start saving for things like a wedding.

[Antosha Vikenti]

"Which is why a majority of my best work seems to hide in my sketchbook, not a classroom." Antosha shrugged some, not really knowing how else to properly agree to what the male was saying. Though he did agree, quite wholeheartedly as it were. After all, art was about expressing yourself and taking a chunk of your soul and baring it. Or at least it was supposed to be about that. "Oh? I was in yearbook. Took the pictures. Spent too much of my time chasing everything in a pair of pants to do anything else." He laughed softly and took another drink of his coffee, nodding some as Alex explained which area he wanted to work in. "Ah.. Pediatrics... That is children, right?" Either that or it was something to do with feet, which didn't sound at all pleasant. "Seems like you would fit it." Not that he was really one to judge.

This time he nodded, unable to stop the grin from pulling at his lips to display just how happy he was to be able to pursue a job he wanted. Working with metas, doing what he loved, helping students whenever he could. It was the perfect life for the Russian man, even if the thought of grading things just didn't seem like his style. But then again who really liked grading? It was dull. "Thank you.. Hopefully I will get permission to start up a photography club if anyone is interested, or see if Devon would split the art club days.."

If only Antosha had stayed the same height since he was fifteen. Then maybe people wouldn't be afraid of him. But who was he kidding? Antosha reveled in the idea of being able to intimidate people who deserved it from sheer height alone. "If I had not started my growth spurt my fifteenth summer, I'd still be 5'5". Not my impressive 6'10." A tiny chuckle and another sip of coffee before he finally pulled a book from his bag to open it, wanting to at least pretend to be studying. "Fair. I usually got mine as presents, do not ask.. My family is very odd one.. Or when I was out in Kansas. The rates are fairly low out there so I got many. Like these on my knuckles." With that he gestured to the Russian lettering coloring his skin.

[Alexander McKenzie]

That, Alex understood. He nodded, his hands working their way around his coffee again. “Depending on the assignment, I could do good work. But a lot of my favorite drawings were done outside of class.” One of his favorite pieces had actually been the tattoo he’d designed for his now-fiancée. A lotus flower in full bloom. He still had the original sketch in his book, mostly because looking at it reminded him of Ann, and anything that reminded him of her was worth keeping around. That included the ring she’d insisted that he wear during their engagement. It wasn’t much – a simple black titanium band, but he didn’t mind wearing it for her. She was all about equality, and if she had to wear a ring to show she was engaged, then she’d insisted that he did too. And like a smart man, he hadn’t argued. Thankfully, he liked rings. A lot.

“Yes, pediatrics is kids,” he confirmed with a small nod. Much as he might not look like it, he adored kids. “I was in the hospital for a while when I was a kid, and I don’t think I could forget how much the nursing staff helped, even if I tried. Looking back, I admired them for it, and wanted to give back, I guess.” He shrugged and fiddled with the lid of his coffee cup. Any hint of talking about that period of his life made him a touch uncomfortable, but he dealt with it. One day he’d be able to deal with it honestly and without squirming.

“So you’ll be teaching at Hammel, then? That’s cool.” Hammel was always in need of good teachers and staff in general. He’d been lucky enough to get an inside look when he’d shadowed one of the nurses in the infirmary for a day. Things were much different on the staff side of things instead of the students.

Not for the first time in his life, Alex felt the tiny sting of jealousy over height. He hadn’t grown much since his mid-teens. His father tended to teasingly blame genetics, as his mother wasn’t overly tall either. Alex privately blamed the drugs he’d had to take when he was younger. He was happy with who he was, sure, but a few extra inches wouldn’t hurt, either. “I just never got mine, I guess,” he said with a small shrug. Nothing to be done about it not.

At least he knew all about odd families. His parents managed to be both overbearing, and easygoing at the same time. In short, he’d been allowed to do a lot of things younger than most. Such as get his first tattoo. “It’s okay. I get it. My parents were... kind of weird growing up. They’d let me do a lot of stuff really young, but they were also super protective.” He left out the reasons why. Childhood illnesses with the power to regroup and come back did strange things to priorities. “The ribbon on my arm was the first one I got. My parents let me do it. Paid for it and everything.” The ‘survivor’ at the top, currently hidden under his sleeve, had been added when he was sixteen.