[ti]solo[/ti]face painting 101

<Are you ever gonna name them?>

"Mm?" Jade glanced down at Roger, who was looking sedately up at her. "Who, the mimes?"

<Your other Pokemon,> Roger said bluntly. <You're still calling them Toxel and Nymble. Are you gonna name them?>

Jade paused, mulling it over. Truth be told, she hadn't even named Roger on purpose- the chick had misheard her. But when push came to shove it didn't hurt, and it was better than some dumb name like 'fluffy' or 'torchy' or whatever-the-hell else she would have thought of.

"Hadn't thought about it," she answered honestly, raising an eyebrow. "Why? You got an idea?"

<Let me think. Andy for Toxel,> Roger said with almost no pause. He's already thought this over, huh. <Then you could do Novak for Nymble.>

"Somethin' seems familiar about these names," Jade said, narrowing her eyes playfully, but decided not to fight it. "Sure. Works for me."

They rented a baby stroller at the front gate from a Mr. Mime and Jade strapped the newly-named Andy into the front of it, feeling half like a new mother and half like one of those weirdos who carried their dogs around like babies. <Wanna slushie,> said the Toxel, making angry grabby hands towards one of the stands. Jade grimaced, looking at the MIme running the booth. "Guess since we're here. I'll get one too."

She paid for the slushies, one Mimeberry and one Passionmime, and was in the process of handing one to the Toxel in the baby carriage when something went shooting over her head. "Hey!" she yelled, ducking so fast she spilled her drink all over her shoes. "Goddamn bats!" Jade exclaimed, shaking her fist at one of the Zubat now roosting in the top of the circus tent. This whole damn settlement was filled with the things.

She was getting cold feet about this Mime Circus. And not just because of the icee splashed all over 'em.

The inside of the tent had a long plastic folding table, complete with crappy metal chairs. Jade parked Andy (and Roger, who'd fallen asleep in the baby carriage) and slouched her way over to investigate.

"Hello? Anyone here?"

No mime attendant.

A sign was set up next to the table. It said check in the back.

"Well that's not..." Jade racked her brains for the right adjective. "Reassuring? Promising?" Going into the back room of a mime tent for special face painting lessons? There could be anything in there. Bears, even. Her survival training was screaming at her to avoid "dens for large animals."

<You could make your own paint!> said Nymble, jumping up onto the table. Jade jerked, head whipping around. "Jesus Christ! Forgot you were even here!" Also, what had she just named him? 

But the bug had a point. Along with the table, there was all sorts of crap littered around the tent. Flowers and weird fantasy-fruits like Pecha Berries.

"Would that even work?" Jade pulled a yellow petal from one of the marigolds and rolled it between her fingers. It came away burnt-orange. "Huh. Go figure." That's video game logic for you, Jade thought.

She dabbed the little orange blob on Nymble's forehead. Novak! That was his name. Whew! She'd almost forgotten which tennis player her imaginary chicken had named her imaginary bug.

Well when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.

The green was a mistake. It made Nymble look like a carrot.

It was all right, though. Jenny knew enough color theory to pull this back from the brink of Garbage Art. "Light blue," she decided, looking around. It figured the opposite of orange would bring out the colors more than something natural, like green.

There was a sky-blue vase on the table, filled with pink carnations. Jade reached out and stole some of the color, pulling it away in thick smears that left white, unpainted fingerprints on the ceramic behind. What's happening? she wondered as she began to carefully swirl it in among the marigold, bronze, and green. Is this really what's supposed to happen? Or was this something her subconscious was pulling to life, some weird painter's fantasy about stealing the color from the bottles on the liquor shelf and splattering them across the bar?

As she thought of it, she looked down at her hands.

Bottle green. Whiskey amber. Grey Goose sapphire. Even a clear coat of what could have been water, something like varnish on a bar.

"This feels like a dream," Jade said aloud. She flexed her fingers. As if by compulsion, she drew them close to her chin, breathing in the smell of wet paint. Takes me back, she thought. Unbidden, her fingers snaked up her collar, spreading paint up her neck, up her chin, up her cheeks. Stripes of color glistened on her skin, cool to the touch.

<It feels nice, doesn't it,> asked Novak, peering up at her anxiously.

Jade closed her eyes, letting out her breath. "Yeah. It does."