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Paint me like one of your Sith girls
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A smile very slowly spread its way across Natalie's face at the compliment. Her eyes almost seemed to weigh up the newcomer, not exactly assessing her - Nate lacked the capacity for that - just trying to feel her out. She was a good shape, would probably make a good model. Not professionally, but definitely for a one off piece. Perhaps she'd ask, sometime, maybe not. Nate still had the ghost ship to complete before thinking of her next project.

She wanted to sing again, but this was a conversation, a rare occasion. Not something she herself found particularly remarkable. Just because it was infrequent did not make it special. People and their words were easy to find, Nate just chose not to look. A vague sense of social niceties warned Natalie that turning back to her painting and returning to the chorus of 'Searching, Finding' would perhaps be somewhat rude, so she did not.

The temptation was there, though.

"I play guitar," Nate said suddenly, after being lost in thought for a few seconds. "Not great at it. Better vocalist."

Marion. The girl was Marion. It went into one of Natalie's ears then straight out of the other. The idea of actually remembering names was almost alien to Nate. Why bother with names when you rarely had a second conversation? It wasn't like she just up and forgot meeting people, either.

"Natalie, or Nate. Don't mind," she wavered over 'care' for a couple of seconds. Natalie's eyes flickered to one side, recalling the praise. "Thanks. I write my own lyrics."

Sometimes they even made sense.

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