(no subject)

It's been snowy, cold and gross outside in a way Jille's not accustomed to. She sits on the couch with her sketchbook and a handful of mismatched colored pencils. The case itself is somewhere. Right now, she just wants these colors. The judgemental cat is sitting in the window, and he's backlit by the white everywhere outside, and she's drawing his shape, crosshatching and shading and generally avoiding solid lines if she can help it.

She looks up when someone enters the room, even though she doesn't have to. She knows by the footfalls that it's Jack. She smiles when she sees him and flips her book closed — it's just as well. The judgemental cat has jumped down from the sill and is leaving the room.

"Hey, you," she says warmly.