1100 hours. The British Museum, London.


Weekdays didn't see much action in museums, not with muggle kids still in schools and business hours ongoing. Fortunately The Inkwell weren't opening its doors until the evening. It took a few phone calls in to the curators at the Museum but they were kinda used to getting requests from artists who went in to sketch their exhibits.

Which was how Dietrich found himself in the west wing of the massive structure off of Tottenham Court Road, propping up a wooden easel just a few feet away from a towering Buddhist effigy. No. Buddhist Statue of Divinity. Whatever the hell it was.

The South Asian section of the museum wasn't swarming or anything so he'd taken his time setting up- a blank canvas was balanced on the easel, his sketching tools retrieved and a chair brought over by one've the friendlier staff members. It was all part'n'parcel of expanding his designs, comin' down to exhibitions and stuff. Had ta be done.

"Thanks," Dietrich flashed an appreciative grin at the lady who'd dragged over the seat. "I'll let ya know when I'm done, 'kay?" he watched her kinda return the smile and back away, nearly bumping into a another statue. Pretty li'l thing. Still grinning, he pulled his mind outta the gutter and sat down to start on his work with the statute.

Chaz frowned at the small sketch of the museum and made the shadows beneath the portico stronger.  It was an exaggeration but it made it look more striking and dramatic.  The Neoclassical facade was impressive enough in person, he supposed, but what he loved most about this building lay inside.  He went through and made a beeline for the Great Court.  He loved the contrast of the rigid rules of the old style contrasted and exposed by the clean and efficient modern style of the renovation.  There were a few people moving about on their way to one of the exhibits and even a few others with cameras and sketchbooks, peering up at the impressive glass ceiling.  He circled around the courtyard and eventually found the perfect vantage point.  The light was coming from almost directly above at the moment.  If he waited until later in the afternoon he could capture a nice, sharp contrast. 

He looked at his watch.  Looked like he had some time to kill.  He wandered into the nearest exhibit, which happened to be art from South Asia.  He liked Asian art.  It shared a lot of qualities with modern art.  He walked casually, with his hands thrust in his pockets until an urn caught his gaze.  He flipped his sketchbook open and began to sketch its clean and elegant lines.  He leaned closer to examine the intricate details carved on its surface. 

"Excuse me, sir," a polite voice said.  He turned and saw a pretty museum attendant with a chair in one hand.  "Would you please stay behind the line?"  She pointed and, sure enough, Chaz had crossed too close.  He backed off with a polite and apologetic smile.

The lady moved on and brought the chair over to a blonde man setting up a canvas and easel in front of a Buddhist statue.  He watched the attendant place the chair and share a brief and flirtatious conversation with the artist.  He had an attractive smile, even from over here.  The woman must have thought so too because she was so flustered that she almost backed into a statue.  Thankfully she recovered before pieces of ancient stone were scattered all over the floor.  He grinned reassuringly as he passed her.  He sidled up to the artist, who was still setting up.

"Keep smiling at the employees like that and they'll bring the building down around our ears," he joked easily.

"Keep smiling at the employees like that and they'll bring the building down around our ears," a voice at his shoulder caught Dietrich off guard as he finally got into place in front of the easel, a selection of pencils at hand.

A lanky lookin' fella with a sketchbook stood next to him, sociable smile and a smart suit jacket. A bit of a neat cracker next to his washed out flannel and shaggy hair. Another artist maybe, the museum was fuckin' swarming with 'em in the weekday. Dietrich barely snatched a glimpse of a mostly-drawn urn on the sketchbook. The guy's work was pretty tidy too.

"Wouldn't worry about it," he replied conversationally and indicated the Buddhist structure ahead. "Got me a date with this fine lady over here. Need t'save all my smiles for her, ya know..." The statue, still and indifferent, stared straight ahead past the pair of them with uninvolved serenity. More out've social reflex than actual curiousity, Dietrich's eyes shifted back to the man's book.

"How's yours going- ya find anything worth the time?" In any other scenario it might've been a li'l too friendly of him to ask but there was a kinda etiquette when it came to sketchers 'round town. They were all openly lookin' for an standpoint, a silhouette, a subject. Always searching for ideas.

Got me a date with this fine lady over here. Need t'save all my smiles for her, ya know.

The Buddhist effigy was made from bronze, tarnishing in places.  She was naked from her slender neck to her ample hips and her legs were covered by a flowing piece of fabric.  One hand was held up with its fingers curled, as though she might have once been holding something.  The other was open at her side.  She was a lovely lady indeed, calm and peaceful.  "Well," Chaz said, "she certainly deserves them more than the rest of us do."  Us mere mortals, he thought wryly to himself.  A humorous grin spread across his face, unable to stay hidden at the thought of that scruffy but gorgeous smile. 

When asked about his sketchbook, Chaz reflexively looked down at the half-finished sketch of the vase he'd been working on.  He loved showing his work off most days.  It made him swell with pride to see the impressed look on people's faces when they flipped through it.  This man, however, was obviously a serious artist if he brought an easel and everything to the museum to sketch.  Right now the vase was a mixture of construction and proportion lines.  His graphics professor would be proud but it wouldn't look like much until he finished the shading.  So he flipped to the previous page where his sketch of the facade was and held the book out to the artist.

"I've found a few things inside but I'm an architect so I usually end up drawing buildings."

Dietrich found himself accepting the book from the neat fella with some curiousity- a sketch of the museum front was on the leaf he'd turned to and it was a decent rendering. Not precise, definitely not with the airy English flair he was more used to expecting from illustrations of the same subject. Even so the shadowing gave it a good aesthetic.

"Not bad," he handed it back with an impressed smile. "I ain't all that into building design but I guess I don't have t'be to know 'bout how incredible this place is. It's one helluva sight, inside out." A very practical marriage of archaic and modish composition. They'd really gone out've their way to make it something to behold.

"You designing anything at the moment? Don't really meet architects in my line of work..." Dietrich regarded the man interestedly. He wanted to get on with his sketch of the statue but they kinda had all day and it weren't like she was going anywhere anytime soon. At least he hoped not.

"I'm a tattoo and piercing artist," he clarified helpfully. "Got my own parlour. Ain't much t'see really, we get by though. I'm just doin' some research for a client right now, actually."

Chaz scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and glanced down.  "I'm not designing anything at the moment.  I- kind of came to London without much of a plan.  Well, I did, but the ones I'd made..."  He made half-shrugging gesture with his free hand as if to say 'what can you do?'  He'd moved London with Malcolm over a year ago and then Malcolm left.  Heartbroken, Chaz had lost his internship due to performance issues and hadn't been able to find a job since.  If he was going to settle for another internship, cow-towing to someone else, it would be for the type of architecture he could really get behind, the things that made him passionate.

Tattooing, that was something new.  This guy didn't meet a lot of architects and Chaz didn't meet a lot of tattoo artists... make that none.  He couldn't recall having met a single one so his curiosity was instantly piqued. 

"If you don't mind me asking," he began, "What kind of work do you do?  Where do you do your work?  I've never met anyone that designs tattoos before.  Do you apply them as well?"

Chaz nodded politely at another of the museum's patrons, who passed between them and the Buddhist effigy with a timid and apologetic look.  The moment gave him the opportunity to catch his breath and he realized he'd allowed his curiosity to run away with him.  "I'm sorry," he said with a grin and a hesitant step back, "I'm rambling and I should probably let you get back to work."

It was kinda nice t'have someone genuinely interested in tattooistry. Lots'f Dietrich's clients were serious 'bout their ink and yeah, they weren't idiots of nothing, but the actual field? Too much information. He wasn't paid t'talk about his work, it felt more like he was paid t'listen to the customers.

"Don't worry," he easily waved away the man's concern. "I ain't in no rush to get this done. Got ages b'fore my parlour opens up and it ain't like business is boomin' on the weekday." Dietrich smiled openly and then proffered a hand to shake.

"Dietrich Eisenberg," his voice dropped into a slight German accent, fleetingly. "I do encha-- uh, I do specialty tattoos. A lot of macabre work but whatever the clients want as well, y'know. Gotta be flexible these days."

He'd very nearly said enchanted marks- it was too easy to slip 'round muggles. That was the problem with spending too much time in the wizarding areas, y'forget that the whole damned thing was supposed to be a clandestine culture and nearly blurt out stuff to regular folk.

"Designing and inking, yeah. It's my trade," Dietrich's smile faltered. "Doubt if you've heard of m'place- The Inkwell? We're not too popular around these areas..." he watched his new friend warily. Naming the parlour was a good way t'see if he was talking to one of their own kind or a squib or something. It rang a bell with most London wizards.

Chaz glanced over his shoulder to see if there was anyone nearby and then turned back to Dietrich, his eyes glittering with excitement.  He stepped closer and leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper, "I know of the Inkwell.  I've spent my fair share in that particular area."  He shoved his hands in his pockets with his sketchbook pinned to his side.  His eyebrows twitched up in amusement, "Probably more than I ought to."

So this Dietrich was a wizard, working right under his nose at the entrance of Knockturn Alley.  It's amazing they hadn't run into each other before, given how much time Chaz haunted the wizarding alleys under the guise of looking for work.  Then again, a lot of witches and wizards passed through the area on any given day so perhaps it wasn't so amazing.  The Inkwell, however, he did remember, although he'd never been inside.  Rather indistinguishable from the rest of Knockturn Alley, it had featured in one of his early drawings of wizarding London.  In those days he had been trying to capture the old and neglected atmosphere without straying too far from the bustling Diagon.  These days when the mood struck him to head in that direction, he'd glance idly at the design and moving photographs pressed against the dirty window. 

Sticking a hand out, he said, "My name's Chaz Lawrence, by the way.  London by way of Rothenburg.  You're German too?  Looks like we have more in common than you'd think."

The two wizards shook hands.

Dietrich could feel himself relax a li'l and was amused to realize that he'd felt tense at all- it was a kind of defense, maybe, that he threw up without thinking when talkin' with muggles. At one point in his life, it'd been easy to live amongst 'em but Knocturn and Diagon, they were spoilin' him.

Blonde eyebrows went up in mild surprise. Rothenburg. Old town. This guy didn't really look like the kind.

"Ja, ich bin von Hamburg," he sank smoothly and fleetingly into the language, turning away from his easel now to offer the other man his full attention. "But I've been livin' in the States for some time now. Came 'cross the pond a year back to manage The Inkwell."

Chaz didn't seem to pick up on his surname- which probably meant that he wasn't Durmstrang kin. Hogwarts, nein. Beauxbatons? That shoe would sure as hell fit the way he looked. Not t'mention ya didn't get many architects from the Institute, just wasn't a popular trade 'nless it was in yer lineage.

"We're pretty well-known t'anyone on the alleys," Dietrich couldn't help the warm tone he took, referring to his parlour. "You haven't thought 'bout being inked yerself? I'm more than a li'l handy with the needle..."

Chaz rubbed the back of his neck with a pink tinge on his cheeks.  "I'd honestly never given it a serious thought.  I considered it when I first got out of Beauxbaton, you know, to piss off my parents, but I never really got around to it." 

He'd wanted to get something horribly ostentatious in a very visible place and his friends at school had only encouraged him.  At first he just hadn't gotten around to it and then he met Malcolm,  who'd put a stop to the whole thing.  Malcolm wasn't opposed to body art, he just had a way of snorting whenever Chaz had idly suggested something in a way that said, 'only a complete moron..."  It had hurt to hear that even on his own body his taste wasn't appreciated.

"I've seen some of your work, though," he continued to distract himself from dwelling on Malcolm any longer.  That's over with now, he told himself firmly.  "It's very good!" 

Better no ink at all than a mark ya get just t'burn up yer parents. Dietrich got a hell lotta customers who were gettin' needled just to piss someone off. Anger, it didn't last for so long anyway. Once it's blazed through, what've you got? Some nasty memories and a tattoo that ain't gonna do nothing but remind you of them.

Chaz didn't look all that happy thinkin' about the one he'd been considering but the younger wizard snapped out of it smoothly, with a quick compliment that made Dietrich break into a modest, toothy grin. If he were a humbler man, he might've blushed. Thank the Gods that he wasn't.

"Danke," because you took what you could get. "I don't keep my best in the windows, if ya ever want t'get a better look of my work y'should amble into the parlour some day. Maybe I could take a gander at yer own." Dietrich tapped a pencil against his knee thoughtfully as he regarded Chaz. "Got a lotta clean lines in yer field. A kinda beauty of its own, ain't it?"

A smile tugged at Chaz's lips but he tried to suppress it, causing dimples to appear in his cheeks for his efforts.  He was normally an open and gregarious person and he absolutely loved spending an honest good time with other people.  His ability to find good in just about any situation meant he was used to smiling a lot so even attempting to hide one or keep it from consuming his features was unusual for him.  Chaz knew himself well enough to know that these particular smiles were  quite less than innocent.  He'd found himself flirting a bit with his wide smiles layered with meanings that only the two of them, as wizards, would understand. 

For the second time since approaching the handsome artist Chaz found himself nervously rubbing the back of his neck and regarding the floor.  He didn't know if the other wizard would respond and... wasn't he happy being single?  He'd never spent much time actually being single since he'd left school and it was a comforting feeling knowing he could just act without worrying about whether or not he impressed anyone.  It could just happen or not, whatever, no pressure.

At the comment about the beauty in architecture, Chaz forgot to be nervous and forgot that he'd caught himself flirting.  When he smiled it was relaxed and self-assured, springing from the honest pleasure he found in design rather than some subconscious desire to make a good impression for romance's sake.  "The clean lines are beautiful in their elegance," Chaz said.  "I'm always looking for ways to show the grace of architecture, that's why I'm sketching the atrium later.  The span of clean white glass and the pattern of black mullions is truly beautiful because, especially here because it shows off the ancient style of architecture without trying to imitate it or fade into the background with its blandness."  Chaz chuckled nervously, realizing that he'd gone off on a bit of tangent.

"And I'd love to stop by and see your work.  Maybe if you've got something good I'll finally get that tattoo."  He winked conspiratorially, unable to help himself.

Dietrich wasn't sure what to make of the fella he'd just met- the guy seemed friendly enough, definitely had a knack for the artistic. Not to mention an infectious smile that caught on easily until he found himself grinning back without really knowin' why. Chaz seemed more like a cub than some of the kids who came in to his parlor t'be needled. Sociable.... but not carefree. There was sumthin' unmistakably mature underneath that bashfulness.

Bringin' up architecture was a good change've tone.

"Yea, the atrium here is stunning. I weren't much for Museums b'fore I got into tatooistry but once ya start lookin' for beauty in everything, they seem like a pretty obvious place t'be..." Dietrich glanced around the exhibition hall they were in. "It's all gorgeous, almost too much t'take in."

History might've been one really fucking boring subject but it surely produced some've the most striking shit he'd ever seen- muggle, wizarding or whatnot. Beauty don't care much for classification. He turned his gaze back to Chaz, grinning at the mention of getting a mark.

"Sweet.Most anyone who walks into m'parlor is bound to get needled- hell, I'll do ya myself if anythin' catches yer eye." Dietrich's smile reached his eyes briefly and then he waved at the Buddhist structure ahead of him. "But I better get back t'this lady here b'fore she decides to run off, now. The next time yer on Knocturn,  yer welcome t'stop for drinks'n art. Could use me some good company 'sides my apprentice."

"Doesn't sound like you'll be giving me much of a choice on the tattoo," Chaz said, leaning in conspiratorially.  He idly wondered how much skin he had and how much of it could be inked while leaving the possibility of being hired for a professional job.  Anything beneath his clothing, certainly. He stood up, shrugged easily and said aloud, "I'd be glad for the company, though.  Don't have too many people worth hanging out with in London yet."

It was true.  He'd met plenty of witches, wizards, and muggles but few had what he really looked for in a friend.  He liked to be able to help them or be challenged by them.  Anyone else was fun and interesting but ultimately they were just passing through.  He had no idea which category Dietrich might fall into, or even if he'd end up falling into either, but perhaps they could have some good times before life took them in different directions.

"You're right," he conceded eventually.  "I should probably get back to the atrium and see if the light is better now.  Enjoy your time with her."  He winked and waved casually with his sketchbook.  Then he turned and sauntered slowly away.  He called over his shoulder, "I'll stop by the Inkwell sometime with my portfolio.  We can talk further."  He wanted to be friendly but didn't want to overstay his welcome and, if he was lucky, the handsome artist would be like him enough to let him hang around a bit more in the future.