The Shroud flipped on the bench to have his back to the table. Watching the girls leave with a proud grin on his back. His hand held the book he had been reading. Soon as the females were long gone he turned around and leaned on the table with his arms crossed. Closing his eyes and let his hair fall in his face. Glancing to the male he was soon stared at and listened. His heart stopped at the accent, that voice... oh how that sent a sting through him. Blinking he looked to the picture, "Jason Brant." he said and then looked to his book putting it away. He took out his small sketch pad and began to draw more details on the image he had been working on. Shading it and adding features but the eyes were closed. And no mouth or nose yet. He wanted to add them when he remembered her face, "Sorry if most kids stare - they did that to me for a while too... said my eyes made them loose their souls for a few moments... eh they just haven't seen a man with black eyes before... If you want I can help keep the sluts from you? Those girls dont like me... the nicer ones normally do." he smiled weakly. He didn't want to be friendly. But somehow... He wanted to be. It would anger his brother but he wanted a friend. Or someone he cared for.