Morgan moved over to the coffee stand with a casual gait, the smile on his face only could speak of trouble. As he neared he fished something out of his camera bag. Something black, lacy, and with highlights of purple. He tossed them at Aline, watching with a smile as they landed across her arm.<br/><br/>"Hey Aline, found these when I was cleaning out items from the gallery, I remember them from when you wore them during the photo shoot you wanted to do of the Brazilian transgendered wrestlers. How they convinced you to strip down and pose in that shoot I will never understand. Anyways, had em laundered for you." He never broke stride as the garment lay there on Aline's arms, making it to the stairwell as he kept talking.<br/><br/>The gait was not rushed, but purposeful as he continued talking, his hands moving to draw a cigarette out of the same camera-bag that the garment was once in. "I think I still have a picture of you in the headlock from that one wrestlerd who was in all  p-eather and the half cowl come gimp mask that was so enamored by you. Bet you thought I lost that didn't you."<br/><br/>His voice trailed off as he hit the stairwell, and as soon as he was out of sight he took the stairs two at a time, his soft soled shoes making little sound as he decided to put as much distance between him and the owner as possible. He didn't think she would kill him, but she may break parts that he would find uncomfortable, things like his spleen came to mind.<br/><br/>He didn't stop until he came to relative safety of his studio, note to self, reinforce the door as soon as possible, Aline had been working out and had a grip of steel, hell, she might be able to punch through steel for all he knew. he entered the studio with the last words of the Casa de Waffle still in his mind. "Drink, fuck and make art." Well, time to get working on the art aspect.