[ Sharkface nods, tugging the sketchbook out of his inner pocket. He flips through a couple pages, then offers it out to Drake. The pages are filled almost corner to corner, crammed with sketches. A few landscapes, places he's been. Mostly in the Down, but all over the city. Storefronts with shadowy customers coming and going, sunlight reflected in choppy waves. A couple armor studies from fights he remembers from back home. But mostly he's drawn people. Those he's met, talked to. A few he's seen on the street and doesn't know at all. There are several who repeat, though. Majima smoking a cigarette, Vanessa sitting in a tall backed chair, her back perfectly straight. Crais looking vaguely annoyed.
And Drake. Here and there, Drake appears. Giving that easy smile of his, observing the world quietly. Each time, he's been drawn with care. ]
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And Drake. Here and there, Drake appears. Giving that easy smile of his, observing the world quietly. Each time, he's been drawn with care. ]