Why was he here? Why HERE?! It was crowded, loud, and filthy. He should have gone to the beach or take a hike. But he was supposed to meet people, right? He had dressed down in his nice but well worn clothing to look ... less rich? As his doctor had put it? He didn't think most of the people recognized him, so it was maybe working? He had been looking around, wondering if he should just get a cab home when he noticed someone who looked lost. He had a nice face. Perhaps he was a model? But Darius hadn't painted in a while. He felt this sorrow when he thought about putting paint to canvas and it tugged at his heart.

He wasn't meaning to stare, but had fallen deep in thought over the idea of asking. How awkward would it be to ask the man to his room to paint and then be unable to perform? He'd be furious with himself and it would make his situation worse. Before he realized it, he swore the man noticed. He immediately looked away to check his watch to see how long he'd been out. He certainly had walked long enough, as per doctor's orders.