<br/><div class="floatleft">(http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/88/2b/7a/882b7a8e5773e2ce3bc7f8b7dcefca89.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Eiryn Grim<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>At her flat<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Isis<br/><br/><strong>Content:</strong>Showing off<br/><br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Goth/Punk jeans (http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/68/1c/08/681c0858094d0c087edb1e73e512e52f.jpg); black crop tank top (https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/shopping?q=tbn:ANd9GcSYaiGZqJSYILXmjjQg1Fy7hDCWs-dYSa8nWGbOHpa_LxjwWixt&usqp=CAE);asymmetric jacket (http://s001.osstatic.net/s/jctr/store/productimages/details/1275_pitch_black_l_z.jpg).<br/><br/><hr/><br/><br/>"Intimate."  Eiryn chuckled. "'Intimate' would mean I'd have to be here more than about ten hours a week. I sleep at the loft when I'm on a tear. Mostly this place is a mail drop and a closet..." The kitchenette, though, was kind of the definition of intimate- she had to squeeze, brush and rub past Isis several times as she moved back and forth, measuring and grinding coffee beans and packing them into a small Bialetti steamer. She didn't exactly mind- judging from the sharp points in her thin top that hadn't disappeared, despite them being out of the chill- but she sure did blush a lot.<br/><br/>While the coffee cooked, she went over to the work table, picked a small butt out of an ashtray. "Damn. I can roll another, if you like..." Lighting the remnant, she took a small puff to be sure it would keep going, then handed the rest to Isis, and busied herself getting mugs out. They didn't match, of course- she'd be hard pressed to put together a service for two.  Leaning her skinny butt against the oven door, she gave the baker an appraising look.<br/><br/>"Tell you what- I'm gonna show you one piece before you get all coffeed and puffed up, okay?  it's a new bit, one I'm not that happy about, and I'd like your eye more or less unfiltered." She grinned. "The other two pieces I've got here have made me famous- much as I'm ever gonna be, anyway, so if you don't like 'em, well, tough shit." Chuckling to herself, she took a small canvas down off the wall, one that was only about 16" square, and brought it back to the better light of the kitchenette. She held it up at eye height, a few paces back, so Isis could get a good look.<br/><br/>A sea of nearly photo-realistic eyes, all different colors, glared out of a black ground. And in each pupil, done with incredible dexterity, was repeated a tiny impressionistic figure, clearly a female nude, though vague enough that 'she' could be anyone.