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[viking_seer]

"Anderson here. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks."

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[viking_seer]

"Well," she says with an easy smile, "it gets easier each time. So let's find you some paint and paper."

She tips her head to the brush.

"I'm pretty sure, just from the shape, that that one's a watercolor brush. I made up some watercolor palettes the other day for people since it's pretty user friendly, and cut up some paper too."

[hostileterritory]

There's a moment where he almost demurs, clearly wants to, but then nods slowly instead.

"All right."

Might as well have an actual reason to take the thing.

[viking_seer]

She gives him a bright smile and nods.

"Let's see here. I've got..." and she reaches into a cabinet, "a nice split primary set here, and a little watercolor pad for paper. I'd recommend taking them off the pad and wetting both sides before you get started."

She looks up at him again.

"That's what I read, anyway. It's still on my list."

[hostileterritory]

"You work here?" She seems like she works here. Certainly knowledgable about and comfortable in the space in the way he'd expect someone who controls it to be.

[viking_seer]

"I was assigned the art gazebo, yes," she says cheerfully as she bundles up everything she's mentioned into a little basket. "The name's Saga Anderson. I answer to Saga or Anderson. Pick your poison."

[hostileterritory]

Saga Anderson. He looked back through the records to find when Arthur was paired and with who. Figured it was a matter of time until he bumped into the name's owner, one way or another.

"David Andersen Collins," he says, with a lilt like a joke. His smile goes more neutral and he offers her the paint brush to add to the little basket. "Though I think you probably knew at least my first name by now."

[viking_seer]

She'll take it and nod.

"Arthur mentioned you to me. He wanted me to know that you were on board, given the resemblance. Though I'll be honest and say I never would have mistaken one for the other."

[hostileterritory]

He relaxes perceptibly when she doesn't deny it.

"Truthfully, I didn't get much of a look."

Even when he was dead-eyed staring at Arthur, there was something that just-- kept it from making sense, what he was looking at. Who.

"How's he recovering? Did his friend fix him up?"

[viking_seer]

She gives a quick, firm nod.

"John fixed him up, yeah. He's usually pretty good about looking after Arthur when he can." A smile. "He's all recovered, as a matter of fact."

She tilts her head at David, gentle.

"What about you? Were you all right? I didn't get a lot of detail."

[hostileterritory]

Sorry, give him a moment while he tries to make that question make more sense in context.

"I'm fine, ma'am, thank you." Then, because it only seems polite to acknowledge it, he adds, "It's kind of you to ask."

[viking_seer]

"Glad to hear it: I just wanted to be sure," she says gently. But she'll get back to the topic at hand.

"I think I have a book here on beginner watercolor. Were you interested in trying landscapes or portraits?"

[hostileterritory]

He flounders a moment, sees himself being pulled inexorably deeper into a project he has no idea how to tackle, and goes for honesty instead. It's not like the people here aren't already aware of certain tendencies.

"Actually, I was going to see about carving up the brush into something more practical."

[viking_seer]

Still looking at books, like he didn't say anything out of the ordinary-

"Why?"

Then she looks up.

"Why are you looking to make a weapon out of it?"

[hostileterritory]

A vague shrug, though he's clearly being honest. "Just in case."

[viking_seer]

She tilts her head curiously at him.

"In case of what?"

Then-

"And what makes a weapon more practical than a paintbrush?"

[hostileterritory]

Bemusement, thy name is (not actually) David Collins.

"In case I need a weapon."

Another quiet shrug. "It's more practical for me."

[viking_seer]

"There are better ways to get weapons," she says honestly, "like asking for one. I'm a warden, and I'd be willing to get you a weapon just like mine."

She said what she said.

"What makes a weapon more practical for you? Because you haven't tried painting yet?"

[hostileterritory]

The phrasing is interesting, on that. A weapon just like hers.

"And what's your weapon do, specifically?"

As for practicality-- "I'm a soldier, ma'am, not an artist."

[viking_seer]

"Soldiers are only soldiers when there's a war to fight," is her counter to that. "And given there's no war here, you've got a lot more to do with a paintbrush than a weapon."

She considers pulling out her weapon to show it to him, but she's got it in a very specific location right now and she'd rather not.

"It's a gun. It shoots bullets. Sorry I wasn't clear."

[hostileterritory]

He gives her a long, studying look, deciding to address the question of a gun in a moment.

"I'm sure it would be nice if that was true."

[viking_seer]

"You have reason to believe there's a war here?" she asks, honestly, earnestly. "Between who? Over what? To what gain?"

[hostileterritory]

"Not the part about war, ma'am. The part about a soldier only being a soldier when there is one."

There's a tense neutrality in the words.

[viking_seer]

"It is true." She watches him for a long moment. "Because soldiers are also fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, lovers, children. They're people, which means they have different facets, that they can be soldiers when war demands it... or a good friend. A great soccer player. A creative artist."

She gestures to him with her left hand.

"'Soldier' is only part of who you are, and it's not the part that's needed now. So you can explore the other parts."

[hostileterritory]

He takes in a slow, deep breath as she talks, something itching unpleasantly at the edge of what he can feel. Anger scratching at the edges of that.

"Yes, ma'am."

[viking_seer]

She's watching him, though.

"I'm willing to hear a counter argument. But I can only state what I believe. What is it you believe?"