Spending Time with Humanity - Open

[Honor Sayers]

Honor didn't make a habit of going into the staff lounge because it was usually always crowded but passing it today, she heard no one so she took advantage of it and dragged one of the chairs up to the window. It was a rainy summer day and the sun was dimmed considerably, just the way Honor liked it.

Training Thomas was beginning to not suck as bad as she thought it would. Sure, the young man was just always so damn happy; and a few days ago, she found herself actually smiling at one of his jokes, genuinely smiling, but he was an okay young man. She should just recommend that he pass so he didn't give her cooties from constant contact.

So far, that was possibly the only interesting thing that had happened to her the past months. Which was making her seriously rethink her lifestyle. Pushing people away only got her so far, what could possibly go wrong if she opened up to the possibility that people might actually like her if she smiled every once in awhile?

...

Honor laughed at the thought and shook her head at the sheer ridiculousness before taking a sip of the tea she had brought with her. Unaware that someone was behind her, Honor leaned forward to listen to the light beatings of the rain against the tempered glass.

[Nigel Hobart]

Nigel brushed the rain off his shoulders, sleeves, and hair as he walked briskly though the hallway, the wet soles of his boots squeaking against the floor. It was utterly miserable outside but luckily Nigel had arrived just before the rain started; he'd forgotten his umbrella. Checking his wristwatch, he made a mental note as to how long he had before his next class. Plenty of time for a cup of tea.

Slowing as he entered the Staff Lounge, Nigel entered quietly. He saw a woman at the window, looking out into the rainy day as she sat on her chair. Not wanting to cause a ruckus, Nigel didn't say anything until he saw what condiments had been provided for the staff.

"Ah bugger." He whispered to himself, running a hand through his finely cut hair. By normal standards, the lounge was very well equipped. For a British man who despised coffee? Not quite to his liking. Sucking it up though, Nigel made himself a cup of (strong) Lipton tea. It was surprisingly good, but that might have just been the atmosphere; tea always tasted better on rainy days.

Blowing across the surface of his mug, Nigel made his way to a couch. Sitting down with the poise only either a man with his upbringing or a member of the military would assume naturally, Nigel mused to himself before greeting the woman at last. He wasn't sure if she'd noticed his entrance or not, but it never hurt to feint attempt politeness.

"Good morning marm." Nigel said softly. Judging from her side profile, he was pretty sure he knew her name. Honor Sayers, the most unusual name. Not in a bad unusual, but a simple unusual. He only addressed her as "marm" as both a courtesy and a caution. It would be utterly embarrassing to get her name wrong.

[Honor Sayers]

Delicate hearing immediately picked up on squelching boots and Honor tensed up, just hoping the person coming wouldn't decide to enter the lounge but as luck would have it, she heard them enter and in mere seconds, she heard a softly accented voice.

Huffing, she continued to sip her tea, adjusting her tinted shades out of habit and stared out the window. Well, as much as a blind person could stare. She didn't think the other occupant would bother her, despite her previous grouses. She was delighted when there was nothing else after the initial noise.

Until the man actually greeted her. She could play deaf couldn't she? Or maybe she can fake not knowing there were other people around. Could she? She sighed when she realised that nobody else was answering, which only meant he was talking to her. She turned and plastered a smile on her face, her gaze completely off kilter from where the man was sitting.

"Morning. Who is that by the way?" she tapped at her glasses as an indication of her condition. She wasn't entirely certain why she was giving this man the time of day but she had nothing better to do so the man got the grace of her attention. He should be so lucky.

[Nigel Hobart]

So, this was indeed Honor Sayers. Nigel could tell from both her voice and the way she held herself: poised, distant, and most importantly, blindly. Nigel hadn't interacted with Honor before, both out of untimely schedules and the fact that simply... he wasn't sure how he'd be around her.

Art was Nigel's life. Everything within it revolved around it. Becoming blind was one of Nigel's deepest fear. He couldn't even comprehend it. The blaring question of "how is it like being blind" began to stab its way out of Nigel's mind, but he fought it back with parry and thrust; such a question would be incomprehensibly rude.

Also, from years of being forced through high-class dinners back in England with his near-royal family, Nigel knew a fake smile when he saw one. Ms. Sayer was not in the mood to talk, that he knew. Despite her attitude, he still answered her question softly, knowing he need not speak loudly.

"Hobart. Nigel Hobart. I don't believe we've met." He took a small sip of his now cooled tea, and picked up a newspaper from the table, setting the mug back on the saucer. If she didn't want to speak, Nigel completely understood. He left the matter at that, and tried to enjoy the paper while locked in mental combat with that question all the while.

[Honor Sayers]

She tilted her head slightly when he announced his name. Nigel Hobart. The name sounded familiar but she had no idea who he was. Nor what he was doing here. Was he staff? He better be.

"No, I don't suppose we have." Honor replied politely, the smile on her face carved out of politeness more than anything else. "Are you a teacher here?" She asked, wondering what she was hoping to accomplish by keeping up this small talk. She had never had this problem before, being rude or just completely indifferent towards company. Especially not in the staff lounge.

She blamed the weather. The rain caused her to be plenty irrational sometimes simply because she felt...relaxed in the climate. It wasn't too bright, it was cool and the sound the rain makes pelting against the glass is rather therapeutic.

Yes...it was definitely the weather.

[Nigel Hobart]

The newspaper ruffled as Nigel turned each page. Upon his arrival in Pilot Ridge, he had been both surprised and pleased at the quality of the local newspaper. However, even it's stories couldn't keep the artist's interest away from the present company. When Honor asked if he was a teacher here, he really became hesitant. Despite this, Nigel manned up and replied bluntly yet politely, a skill obtained from his youth.

"Yes, or else I wouldn't be here Ms. Sayer. I teach art." Nigel made a micro-fraction of a pause between the words "teach" and "art." He closed his eyes and made a silent expression of regret, knowing that the blind woman's hearing would more than likely pick up on it. Berating himself for his blunter, Nigel muffled all other noise from his "stupid bloody mouth" by sipping his tea, waiting for what he thought was the inevitable...

[Honor Sayers]

Ignoring the fact that he had mispronounced her name, Honor's eyebrow shot up as she had indeed caught the pause. Crossing one leg over the other, she realised all too suddenly that she was quite intrigued as to what caused it. One hand smoothed over the top of the table for her mug of tea, picking it up and taking a slow sip as her eyes moved closer to where the voice had come from.

"Art needs to be taught, Mr. Hobart?" Her voice lilted in the end as she rubbed her thumb against the lip of her mug. "Doesn't it just come from your soul?" Truthfully, Honor didn't want to pick a fight with the man. He hadn't given her a cause to but she found it all too easy to sound condescending. Enough to possibly make the man take her words in a completely different manner. All she wanted was to know if his profession was really necessary.

[Nigel Hobart]

Nigel was taken aback by the woman's statement, but not in a bad way. He was rather glad she was blind now, as horrible as that sounded, for the series of expressions that formed upon his bearded face would certainly given the wrong impression. With a smile, Nigel set down the newspaper, giving up on the task entirely and entering into what could possibly turn out to be an intriguing conversation.

"Well, you couldn't be more correct Ms. Sayers." Nigel corrected his previous mistake smoothly, no tremor to his voice as if he hadn't made it in the first place. "Art comes from the soul, the very thing that makes us who we are. We let it flow from us into our creations, giving it life beyond a pulse. But not everyone knows what the link feels like, between art and soul. Not everyone can find it. So pardon me for not being specific; I do not teach art, but rather guide it."

He also continued with his hankering question, but caught his tongue, waiting to see how she responded.

[Honor Sayers]

When he actually took her question seriously, Honor hid the smirk and feigned interest in Nigel's answer, nodding when she thought it was necessary. All it was to her was a load of bullshit. Unless she could actually enjoy visual soul transfers, colours on a piece of rough paper was useless to her.

Honor had so much to say in response to Nigel's hogwash but she held her tongue. It would just seem so mean. The man seemed way in touch to his feminine side. She didn't want to ruin it for him.

"How noble of you." She said simply.

[Nigel Hobart]

Nigel could sense the mocking within the woman's tone. He'd heard it many times before; from students, to friends, to the everyday man who thought Nigel's passion to be a crock. But of course Honor would think so. She was blind, and from what he could tell, very unattached. Maybe, in a last ditch effort...

"Thank you." With a final sip of his tea, Nigel set down the empty glass on his saucer and began his preemptive retort, ignoring the frivolously formalities of acknowledging her attitude. He jumped straight into the fire.

"Have you ever heard of a one "Eşref Armağan" by chance Ms. Sayers? He is a blind Turkish artist. Born without eyes. Yet despite this, he is a renown painter for his use of perspective. Even without sight he manages to understand what the normal person thinks only the eyes can see. Now you may think me and or my passion to be trifling, but you should really think again. Art is not simply a medium of sight."

[Honor Sayers]

To say she was mocking his passion would be an overstatement. She just didn't understand why he chose it. That was all.

"Oh my pleasure." She kept up the pretense of politeness, making him believe she was thoroughly enjoying this little nugget of unproductive time wasting. How does anybody go through this drivel day in day out with gossiping and 'bonding over coffee', Honor honestly had no idea.

And then he started speaking about a blind painter and had a hard time not showing her amused grin. Well wait now, was the man trying to appeal to her disabled sensibility? Oh this was rich. "Oh I'm sorry, so what you're saying is that I can actually enjoy art without looking at it because a blind man decided to make a mark in the art world despite his setback?" Honor gave out an incredulous bark of laughter. "Well, Mr Hobart. I see you're trying very hard to prove me wrong. How could I ever thank you for opening my eyes to the wonderful possibilities I have yet to see?" She simpered, her grip on the mug in her hand tightened.