The next day wasn't much better as far as excitement went. It started with Tonto calling in and having Jameson cancel the two appointments he had that day. That was the only phone call that came in and walk-ins were all lookers but no takers. It wasn't until around a half hour before closing time that 'A' walked in. The door chimes announced his arrival and the only thing that followed him was a rush of street fragrant night air. He'd come alone; no Dirty Dale, and he paced casually into the room pushing his riding goggles up onto his head.<br/><br/>"Place is jumping," he said offhandedly as he came over to Jameson's station and tossed his finger-less leather gloves onto the counter nearby. He saw everything was already laid out and it looked like the artist had been doodling on a sketch pad for at least part of his day. 'A' took a look at the art from where he stood but couldn't really appreciate all the details from his vantage point. The place looked clean and he figured that's what the artist had been doing with the rest of his time.<br/><br/>"Must suck," he looked around the place. "having to sit here all day and clean."<br/><br/>He shucked off his leather jacket and took a seat in the client chair and began unbuttoning the red and black checked flannel shirt he wore.  Under it was a black tee shirt that he grabbed by the hem to strip over his head. For a moment he was annoyed, having forgotten the goggles on his head, but after tossing the shirt over the back of the chair, he righted the head gear and settled back down. He then rest his arm, thumb up, on the padded work stand and drew an invisible line with his opposite hand starting from about an inch above his wrist going up about two inches. "Right there. Just write it."