(C) Fleck.

Richard paced around his room. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. The entire time with an old Nokia phone in one hand and a piece of paper with a number on  in the other.

The early evening after his night out he woke out with one of the worst hangovers he had in a very long time. (The last time he felt this bad was the 90's.) He became best friends with the toilet for the first part of the evening, and then the bed's best friend in the second half.

Sometime during mid evening he remembered a rather handsome man giving him his number and he quickly scribbled it down on a piece of paper before it smeared or faded. The next day he found a sketchbook that was definitely not his but filled with beautiful urban sketches. He figured it belonged to the man he saw, he also remembered looking at it a lot.

The nerves in him made him leave the number for a few more days until almost a well passed. He figured that he should call the number and return the sketchbook -date or no date. The man was probably just being polite when he asked him out.

He was being to feel bad not giving the man his sketchbook back though. Plus, it was a bit rude for him to not call the man. Even if he was not interested he should call him.

Sitting down, breath still, he pressed the numbers into the phone and waited as it dialled.

Fleck had been waiting all week for a phone call.

Usually when he was in his studio (his eldest brother's old bedroom that had been converted to house his two favourite forms of art) he left his phone in his room so it wouldn't disturb him while he worked.

For the past week, he'd been keeping it on him, entrusting it to his model (his sister's) care while he recreated her face in clay - a request of hers that he had finallly gotten around to after months of begging, pleading and threatening.

When the phone began to ring in his sister's hands, she answered it immediately, putting it on speaker phone and setting it on the table next to Fleck's elbow.

"Pronto," he called out, narrowing his eyes as he carefully shaped his sister's left lower eyelid.

"Hey-"

Fuck. He forgot the man's name. Hesitating only a second he tried again.

"Hey, it's me, Richard- or Dick. Which ever I used to introduced myself as. I have your sketchbook."

He rubbed a hand over his pink face, already wanting this phone call to end. He must sound ridiculous.

Fleck's eyes lit up at the sound of Dick's voice, and an amused smirk curled his lips as he listened to the Vampire babble.

"This sounds like a hostage situation. Is this the part where I'm supposed to ask you to put it on the phone to make sure its okay?" he teased lightly.

"I was wondering where I left it. At least I left it in the care of someone this time. I've left sketchbooks on the bus too many times to count."

Dick let out a small laugh and relaxed in the seat. Any worry and anxiety leaving him. What was he worrying about?

"To be honest I was probably not the best person to entrust it to that night. I was a bit of an embarrassment. How I brought it home in one piece I don’t know."

'A bit' was an understatement.

"That thing is held together by sheer power of will. If it stayed in one piece, then you're a miracle worker."

That particular sketchbook got taken everywhere, by means of the bottom of Fleck's bag, usually. Or a pocket in his fatigues if he could bend it enough to jam it into a pocket and still have it comfortable. The binding was all but destroyed. It was held together with an elastic band and hope. It was Fleck's least favourite sketchbook, and that state of it reflected that.

"So, what ransom do I have to pay? A coffee or dinner?"

Dick's cheeks warmed and the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile.

"Coffee sounds good. I know this cafe on Via Del Corso, "Tazza d'Oro. They do good coffee and it is cheap. Plus it doesn't get too crowded in there this time of the year."

"Tazza d'Oro..." Fleck repeated, racking his mind to see if he knew the place.

"Fat chick with the rat-dogs," came the quiet prompt from his sister, and Fleck gave a happy exclamation of remembrance.

"Yeha, I know it. Thanks, Chai." His sister just nodded then went back to her stern-faced pose when Flick arched a brow at her for daring to move while he was working.

"So shall we meet there tomorrow, Dick?"

Chai?

"Yeah, that sounds great. What time are you thinking? I can do anytime."

He had finished work for the week so his sleeping pattern was still very much in 'human mode'. So he wouldn't be falling to sleep at the table if his date wanted to meet anytime after one.

"How about... two?"

That would give him plenty of time to run around mad in the morning and get everything he needed doing for the day done, so he could spend the afternoon doing what he wanted.

It was also the perfect time for an afternoon coffee.

"Two sounds good."

He will get there for half one so he could mentally prepare himself and get a nice table by the window. Plus he would hate to be late.

"Excellent. Keep my sketchbook living and we'll make the exchange at two."

He was having fun with this little hostage situation. He wondered of he could keep it up when they met tomorrow.

He supposed he'd find out.

"Don't be late, or there will be dire consequences."

He might as well join in on the joke.

Dick fiddled with the hem on his jumper. He could feel the conversation coming to a stop but he really didn't want it to. A very different thought from a few minutes ago. He found his date very soothing.

"I will try my utmost best to be on time," he promised.

Fleck was a very punctual man. Usually he showed up ten minutes early for any date or appointment he had, just to be safe. Better to be early and wait around a little than to be a little late.

He ran his tongue over his teeth as he worked on detailing the earring in his sister's lobe.

"I'm sorry about having to disappear so quickly last week. My brother managed to piss off some woman's boyfriend and had to make a quick exit."

"No it is fine. I think I went home as soon as you left anyway. Which is good for me I don't think I needed anymore to drink. I am sorry you had to see me in such a state."

He couldn't remember his date leaving. One minute they were laughing to their the next he was almost sick in his bed.

"I had fun. Next time we go out, I'll make sure to leave my brother at home where he cant piss anyone off and drag me away from you."

Fleck chewed on the inside of his lip. "Come here so I can see your earring better," he muttered to Chai, who scooted closer obediently. "Thanks."

He carefully detailed the little golden designs with a tiny pin tool. Why did women need such intricate jewellery?

"Me too."

To be honest he was a little glad he had to leave early, so he couldn't see Dick in a worst state.

He heard the other man on the phone mutter and his eyebrows drew together in wonder.

"What are you up to anyway? I keep hear you muttering."

"Killing my credibility as an artist by marring my work with my sister's face."

He laughed when Chai grunted a 'hey' and threw a clay tool at him. It bounced off his broad shoulder and clattered harmessly to the floor.

"I'm sculpting my sister," he explained.

"Oh, I see. That is pretty impressive."

He always admired sculptors. He had a go at it himself a couple, with stone and clay, and neither times agreed with him. It can be difficult enough tying to capture someone from one perspective, let alone a perspective from all angles. He found whenever he worked in 3D he would focus too much on one angle and then the rest would look disproportioned.

"What type of media do you use?"

"Clay, mostly."

He'd done some wax sculpting and carving for some people - mostly for metalsmiths - and a few other experiments that he wasn't much fond of but he much preferred good chunks of clay to anything else.

"I find it the easiest to work- don't you dare sneeze - with. You can do so much with clay."

Dick hummed in agreement. You could do so much with it, if you knew what you were doing. He never had the patience with clay to learn.

"You should show me some pictures tomorrow, I would be interested to see what you are working on."

"I'm not sure I'll crack my camera lense with this mug- put that down right now, Chantell!" His voice hitched in an almost comical way as his sister raised a tool to throw at him. A tool that he had spent months making just right.

He relaxed once again when the tool was placed back in its place on the table.

"I'll get a few snaps of what I've done over the years." His voice had now returned to its usual calm tone now his tools were safe. "Do you want to see collaborative efforts, too?"

He bitter-sweet smile formed as he listened to the sibling's antics at the end of the phone.

"Sure, that will be great. If the sketches in the sketchbook are anything to go by, I bet your sculptors will be really interesting."

Dick loved looking at art work, especially from people he knew. It was fascinating to see bits and pieces of themselves in there artwork.

"Some of them are. Some are just the bored scupltings of a nerd."

More than once he'd gotten bored, put on a film, and decided to sculpt a scene. It took a lot of effort to do things that way, but he really did love the end results.

Even if those end results are usually just another sculpture put on his 'Disney' shelf as unpainted sculpts, rather than a finished piece. There were only a few of those sculptures that he had finished and displayed proudly.

"Most of the time bored artwork is the best type of artwork, as annoying as it is."

At least for Dick it worked out that way. He guessed it is because he cared to much when it was something done with too much attention. His brush strokes would be too stiff or his drawing hand would shake slightly. The end result was never as good as when he didn't care, and his brush strokes would be loose or his drawing was fluid.