WISH YOU WERE GAY / house painting

Paintbrush had decided to pick a treehouse for himself and he had already lugged over some paint cans with the intention of painting his new home, he wanted it to have that signature Paintbrush pizzazz after all. The liger already had a bit of an idea of what he wanted as he turned on the radio that he had brought along, it was stuttering a bit before the wildcat would kick at it gently with the back of his hind leg hearing the music begin to clearly play. "For it can be easy to say I'm catching feelings..." He began to sing along to the song though it turned into humming as he held a brush in his maw dipping it into the can of paint and slowly swiped it across the wood enjoying the colors that were slowly replacing the natural browns that belonged to the wood.

He had gotten a good proportion of the house painted but there was some splotches of the said liquid on splattered onto his body but Paintbrush didn't mind it at all as he looked over what he currently had. He had a thoughtful expression on his face as if trying to figure out what else to paint or add to his home seeing as he wasn't finished coloring just yet. It needed something else as he glanced over at the floral designs that scattered the walls, a wall of flowers most of them being paintbrushes.

pills don't help, but it sure is funny! ☆ ☆ ☆

MICHAEL TOWNLEY

THE TYPHOON

DEALER

Michael knew of Paintbrush, but that didn't mean he actually knew the other. He had heard about the liger once or twice from his nephew, but outside of that, the dealer really didn't know much about the guy. Roan always seemed to get a bit quiet whenever Paint was brought up, despite the two of them being friends, so the thief did have to admit that he had his suspicions. It was because of these suspicions that he had ultimately decided to seek the other out, going for a stroll through the territory until he eventually came upon the treehouse that the artist had chosen. Just from the looks of the guy, he didn't exactly seem like he was shitty. He had a smile on his face and a song on his lips, and quite frankly, he didn't look as though he would hurt a fly. So, that ruled out – or mostly ruled out – the possibility that Roan got nervous talking about him because Paintbrush had been cruel to him, or threatened him. Not that Michael had honestly thought that Roan would really let any threat against himself stand.

With his other suspicions in mind, Michael took a deep breath before leaping up onto the lip of the treehouse, tugging himself up and clearing his throat. With his golden jewelry glinting faintly in the sunlight, the dealer offered a toothy smile before speaking, "Hey there. You're Paintbrush, right? I heard that you're a friend of my nephew, Roan... I'm Michael Townley-Phillips, his uncle, obviously." With his introduction out of the way, the fugitive allowed his mismatched gaze to trail upwards, inspecting Paint's unfinished work. After a moment, Michael muttered, a chuckle leaving him, "Wow, you've really gone all out for this, huh? I never painted any part of my hut... then again, my hut was rat infested when I moved in, and I didn't even get rid of the rats, I just kept them as pets. So you could say I'm not exactly a big home decorator..." Trevor would probably disagree, considering all the various shiny trinkets that Michael had brought home in the past, but the coyote wasn't around at the moment, thankfully. He'd probably be much more direct in figuring out what was going on between Paintbrush and Roan.

☆ ☆ ☆ gimme, gimme some of that vampire money, come on!

— Reggan