05-14-2009, 04:10 PM
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Cadmium yellow. Honoré nodded slowly, although he didn’t quite understand what cadmium was. Was it some kind of food? He was perplexed; torn between asking for a definition and pretending to know what it was. She was much younger than he was, and she already knew fancy words like “cadmium”. One word was all it took to wound his ego. The Tenens kept quiet, refusing to make any comment pertaining to the word she’d just said. That way, he looked smarter.
His attention promptly returned to the tube in her hand, and the bright colored paint that threatened to ooze out. He too, became nervous after a few seconds. Hazel-hued eyes glanced down at his green-colored palms. Honoré knew from experience what happened when paint came in contact with fur; he’d found out the hard way. His mossy-looking hands were proof enough.
They were passing the paint tube around like a hot potato. Now it was in Honoré’s possession again. He didn’t mind, really. A little yellow to go compliment his green tainted pelt wouldn’t hurt; and it would fade with time. “Don’t know how to paint?” he asked, lowering his backpack to the floor and setting the tube down temporarily. He always carried some paintbrushes with him. Maybe she needed some. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out soft-grip angle paintbrush and offered it to her. “It’s good paintbrush. You can use if you want. I’m cool teacher.”
Cadmium yellow. Honoré nodded slowly, although he didn’t quite understand what cadmium was. Was it some kind of food? He was perplexed; torn between asking for a definition and pretending to know what it was. She was much younger than he was, and she already knew fancy words like “cadmium”. One word was all it took to wound his ego. The Tenens kept quiet, refusing to make any comment pertaining to the word she’d just said. That way, he looked smarter.
His attention promptly returned to the tube in her hand, and the bright colored paint that threatened to ooze out. He too, became nervous after a few seconds. Hazel-hued eyes glanced down at his green-colored palms. Honoré knew from experience what happened when paint came in contact with fur; he’d found out the hard way. His mossy-looking hands were proof enough.
They were passing the paint tube around like a hot potato. Now it was in Honoré’s possession again. He didn’t mind, really. A little yellow to go compliment his green tainted pelt wouldn’t hurt; and it would fade with time. “Don’t know how to paint?” he asked, lowering his backpack to the floor and setting the tube down temporarily. He always carried some paintbrushes with him. Maybe she needed some. Reaching into his satchel, he pulled out soft-grip angle paintbrush and offered it to her. “It’s good paintbrush. You can use if you want. I’m cool teacher.”