<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/88/2b/7a/882b7a8e5773e2ce3bc7f8b7dcefca89.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Eiryn Grim<br/><strong>Location:</strong>At da Partay, finally.<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Isis and anyone with a sweet tooth<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Baker's Anatomy.<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Something Witchy This Way Comes. (http://41.media.tumblr.com/efec81c4668d854e1713032a3930c8e0/tumblr_nd9bf43l9x1tsaz7eo1_1280.jpg)<br/><hr/>The intensity of the handshake didn't draw much of a reaction from Eiryn one way or another- her own hands were rough enough from years of splinters from stretchers, laptop keys, and who knew what kinds of chemicals and pigments that she didn't worry about if she had a 'manly' handshake or not. Her skin said she worked for a living, worked hard, and that was enough.<br/><br/>"Rice crispies, huh? Well, the shit needs to be good for<em>something</em>...seriously, though. Wicked clever. I like." Letting go of Isis' hand, a tiny bit reluctantly, she looked down at her robes and chuckled. "Oh, Jesus, this thing? Leavin' out the whole stupidity of a Goth dressing as a storybook witch- a friend made this for me, while back. Theater dude." Ruefully, she grinned. "About three weeks before a fight that involved our roomies callin' the cops, and me tossing a shiitton of his junk out a window. Was a great theater piece."<br/><br/>Sighing, she thought about exactly how to respond to the inevitable 'you paint?' Well, she was also imagining Isis dressed in a lot less, maybe by the light of about 500 candles, but...so much of the time, that question was followed by 'but what do you do for a<em>job</em>?, but this didn't feel like that.  So she switched off the snerk circuit (third time tonight, she was on a roll!), and shrugged.<br/><br/>"I call my stuff mixed media, because I do a lot of paint-on-photo and stuff, but yeah, it's still mostly painting. In between tending bar, delivering crap Chinese food, some studio modelling...I do a little sculpture, too, but I haven't really got my head around true 3-d yet, so most of it's pretty crap." She grinned "Cute name for a shop. I've been by, haven't bee in yet. Maybe I should, at that."  She hoped that sounded neutral enough, not horny and desperate.  Isis was hotter than the hinges on the doors of Hell, and more important, she was creative and proud of her work.  Sure, she'd probably be a great fuck- assuming she rolled that way (which, given where they were hanging, she almost assuredly did, but assuming got you smacked)- but Eiryn was getting too old for 'grab ass and call you sometime.'  Coming across too hard would either scare the chick off, or turn it into something she didn't want.<br/><br/>Of course, she'd get another painting or six out of it, if that happened. She always did.