A Talk at Dusk. [Matthew]

Arthur sometimes almost wondered why he'd had to be put in here. The irony was just staring at him.

Even though Americans did love their own history, there was nothing that excited them more than other people's history. So while there were a lot of visitors in this particular museum; didn't mean that they had a lot of staff. The fact that he'd been put in here, without question, was enough for Arthur to realise.

By now evening was beginning to fall, the sky turning a rather soft orange. Visitors were depleting in number, a few scattered throughout the halls and glancing at exhibits. Closing time wasn't for another hour and a half, but the last hour of the day always seemed to be particularly quiet, no matter the day. Arthur took this opportunity to walk the halls himself; checking that exhibits were in order, displays looked neat, signs and directions were in clear view, and to be there to assist anyone in case they would like to venture into any more information or need any assistance. At the moment, however, everyone seemed content keeping to themselves.

It was at the exhibit of 1812 that Arthur found himself stopping at, gazing at a particular illustration of the burning of the whitehouse. It was funny, Arthur mused, that he was working in another country like this, in this particular museum. Chances were, if irony was handing him cards, that one of his ancestors could have partaken in either the 1812 or the Revolutionary war - or if it was really playing him, both.

He sighed to himself, and glanced at a rather tattered flag hung on the wall, untouched. Everything seemed in order, at least.

Matthew was back to visit the Museum of American History, and decided that this time, he'd just browse the display. He was clutching at his bear, Kumajirou, to his chest and mumbling to him, talking about the various different displays. There was a reason he was there so late, it was to avoid the crowds. Matthew often got jostled by passers-by who didn't see him...

Matthew patted Kumakaoru's head and wondered into the next room. There was someone there who looked like he worked there, who was admiring (maybe?) the illustration of the burning of the white house. Matthew smirked. Every time he saw that, he felt a bout of pride wash over him. He knew that the English liked to hog all of the attention and say it was them who did it, but Matthew, along with all his fellow Canadians, knew better.

Strolling up to the man - who'd turned his attention to a flag - he took a deep breath.

"Hello there. You know, I admire the Canadians that burnt the white-house. Grand people the were." He smiled in a vaguelly friendly manner, and went back to stroking the top of Kumayoshi's head.

There was a small blink, the voice taking a few moments before it registered in the Briton's head that someone was talking to him and he turned around, studying the man. He looked very fine in appearance, very shy - a certain different blend of 'shy' compared to most Americans he'd met. He seemed rather soft spoken, but since there was no one about, that wasn't really an issue.

There was a small chuckle, and he turned around. His accent clipped the air as he spoke.

"People tend to argue about exactly who did the burning. If you ask the Canadians, most will actually say the British. You ask the British, they say the Canadians. Or vice versa; no populace seems to agree mutually, though. However, it rather depends how you define it, but the majority of people who fought against America in that war were people who had settled and lived in the land, with back-up from the British Navy and Forces. Personally, I guess I'd admit it was the Canadians that did that -" he pointed at the illustration "- Since we were a little busy with Napoleon at the time too. America always had a tendecy to announce war against Britain back in the day when they were conspicously caught up with France at the same time. But enough of that," Arthur paused, turning around to look at the other once more. He seemed to scan him, observe him, before his hands clasped together. "You seem rather patriotic towards this - I'm assuming you yourself are Canadian?"

"Uhm, yeah. I'm Canadian." He grinned sheepishly at the man. "Matthew Williams, and you are?" He held out his hand in greeting, the grin morphing into a shy smile. He certainly knew about his history, and he sounded smart, too! "You're british, right? I could tell from your accent... And you're smart! Don't you guys have really good teachers there or something?" Should he have been his brother, he'd question things such as 'Have you met the queen?!', but he wasn't, so he kept quiet and smiled politely.

(( Not... Much... OTL ))

Arthur blinked as the hand was brought out to shake, before he suddenly smiled in a similar manner. A small blush ran against the top of his cheeks as he shook the Canadian's hand. "The pleasure's all mine. I'm Arthur Kirkland, and the Curator of this museum. Ironically, as you might say, as I am English, yes." He remarked, rubbing the back of his head a little sheepishly. He'd probably have to get used to recieving quite a few stares from people when they realised what he did and who he was, but this Canadian seemed friendly enough. "Of course, it's rather quiet now, so I was just checking out the exhibits-" He chuckled, "Ah, no. I don't think our teachers are any better than any here, but I couldn't say for certain." At the compliment, his blush had increased. "I-I ah, thank you. I think it does help knowing your history when you practically run a museum."

((it's okay, it's Christmas!~ hope you had a nice one btw~))

"Heh, it's a bit of a surprise..." Matthew said mildly, smiling. And it had, to find that a british person, of all nationalities, ran an American museum. "But never mind, eh? And it's in impressive condition, I must admit." He smiled wider. "May we sit and talk? You're a nice person... And maybe you can talk about a few things on display... OH! And maybe... Maybe..." He blushed and stared at his feet, "Maybe you'd have a look at some of the sketches I've done of this place. And perhaps sketch you? A-After all, you are a part of this place, technically..." He hoped that didn't offend Arthur in some way... "N-Not that I was implying that you were a 'Thing', just that... That... You know..."

Matthew stopped himself talking. He had a bad case of foot-in-mouth at the moment it seemed...

(( I did, I did... :3 And to you~ ))

Arthur blinked. "Oh, you draw? That would be wonderful to see." He nodded, though the prospect of him being drawn wasn't something he wished to really touched upon. Nodding, he gently moved forward and over to a bench just at the side of the wall, sitting down upon it.

"So, what is it that you do, then? Are you an artist?" He asked, "And ah, I wouldn't say that the exhibits are that impressive, but I try my best. There isn't that much staff at the moment for this museum compared to the others - it seems that while Americans love their own history, people who want to work in this industry are more interested in looking over other aspects of the world."

"I-I'm an art student!" Matthew nodded, grinning proudly as he was lead to a big bench made for more people than two, set in the middle of the room. He held out the sketchbook he took everywhere with him and kept filled with sketches of everything to Arthur, feeling a little nervous. Supposing Arthur didn't like it? ...Or thought it was bad? Matthew shook his head. The guy didn't seem that harsh, Matthew was sure it was just his imagination playing up again.

Still, Matthew cuddled and stroked his KumaKuma for comfort. He also watched Arthur and took in little details to include in his sketch of the man. Like the way his eyes seemed to change hue closer to the bottom, and the little out-of-place curls that framed his head and the fuzzy eyebrows that rested above his eyes which looked ten times larger than matthew's own and made Arthur look damned adorable. Matthew faultered. Ok, now he felt dumb for calling Arthur adorable... He let his stare drift to one of the exhibits, and tried to read what was on an information plate on the wall for something to distract him. Arthur continued to talk, though Matthew only half listened.

"Uh? Oh... No, I think they're impressive," He added offhandedly, trying not to concentrate on Arthur still.

Arthur gently flicked through the different sketches of paper, his expression furrowing a little as he looked through them all. Admittedly, they were very good, impressive in fact. He found himself nodding, before closing it and handing it back to the Canadian.

"I have to say, they certainly do my exhibits some justice. Maybe I should just put those up in place of them instead, hm?" He joked, turning and sitting back a little. "I think it would be rather marvellous if you sketched a scene whenever we do a recreation out on the field." He looked back again, studing the shy persona of the other in this light. He couldn't have been too much younger than himself.

"Is there a particular reason you're making sketches in this museum?"
It did seem rather odd..

Matthew jerked out of his thoughts with the questions. "Uh? I'd love to do sketches, that'd be no problem. I sketch stuff in the museum because... Well... Hm... No particular reason why, I just... Like to draw different things. The more interesting the thing I'm drawing, the more challenging and fun the drawing is." He flicked through the pages of his sketch book, a warm glow in his chest.

Picking up the pencil in his pocket he flicked to a new page. "So, Arthur, why did you leave England to come to New York?" He asked, beginning to sketch. He hoped Arthur didn't mind. Not getting a reply when he asked made Matthew assume that Arthur would be fine with it. Because that best suited Matthew's fancy.

He listened to Arthur's British, sort-of-awkward voice as he sketched.

Arthur was really quite self conscious, so he could have done without the portrait of himself being done. However, once he realised that Matthew had started, he was rather too polite to try and stop him. So he just settled back, and looked over at one of the displays to try and distact himself. He blinked at the question.

"I.. ah, I um. It wasn't so much as wanting to come here than just get away. My mother died and I only had my brothers left, so..." There was a sigh, a heavy sigh that read there was a lot more to it than just that, but Arthur didn't really continue.

"It was either here or somewhere else - and frankly, I can't speak any such languages very well. So here I am." His head tilted a little, before looking back at the other. "So what are you doing here? I understand that New York isn't as far to travel than say, England, but it's still rather a distance."

"I've lived here half my life... Heh. I'm not sure why we moved. Mama had a business opportunity maybe, or found another 'True love'... I was young at the time, so I didn't really understand," He explained. "By the way, you have the most gorgeous jaw line. So smooth and prominant. Not many people would stay still and let me draw them, I do hope you don't mind. But I need more people in my port-folio, and you've got a great face!" Oh, he hoped that didn't sound offensive...

He slid his pencil back into his pocket and pulled out some charcoal from a box. "Please don't be mad at me for using this in here, I won't get anything smudged, I promise." He began to use it for toning, loving how the picture was coming out. He started to work on the eye, shaping it up and making it beautiful. He continually switched between charcoal and various colours of chalk, chatting to Arthur about this and that.

"Do you like sports of some kind? I adore ice-hockey! Like, so much! It's a passion of mine... You might understand how I would act at a game, if you think about some of the football hooliganism that goes on in your country... Yes, I'm like that." He chuckled light-heartedly, despite the fact that he wasn't on the lightest of topics.

Arthur tried his best to suppress the blush that was radiating at the compliments, so he just shuffled a little awkwardly and sat back in place. He glanced out of the corner of his eye occasionally at the sketch that was being created of him.


"A-Ah, thank you?" He remarked, unsurely. At the small talk, he sighed. He should be used to this, but it didn't happen too often here.

"Ah, I do remember watching the match between Canada and America in the Winter Olympics." He nodded. "That was... rather a rough game." To say the least, anyway.

"I do enjoy the football, but I do not do the hooligan business." He implied, his cheeks burning more of humiliation for his own country. "Ah, my grandmother used to take me horseriding, ballroom dancing, ice skating... I think my grandfather was of high caliber when he was alive, practically aristocracy, so she deemed it suitable that a man grow up as a gentleman and learn the ways of one." He tugged, uneasily, at the hem of his sleeve. "Of course, my brothers laughed at that prospect. I spent much of my life being called a 'pansy' and 'gay boy'. They took after my father more."

Why Arthur found himself spilling all this out with someone he'd known barely ten minutes, he didn't know.

Matthew smiled. It was nice to hear all this stuff about a person he barely knew, yet trusted him a lot! ...Or at least, Matthew hoped he was trusted. It would be nice to have a friend or two here. It was, after all, somewhere he visited quite often. And most of the time, he visited alone.

Matthew finished off the larger details, stuck a sheet of newspaper on top of his picture to prevent smudges and snapped his book shut. "It's ok, you can relax now, I'm not drawing any more... I could tell you were uncomfortable. Why didn't you ask me not to draw you?" He huffed, vaguelly annoyed, and started putting his supplies away.

(( So short... I know... ))

His eyes widened at the realisation that someone had read his body language - quite accurately, but thinking it through, he just smiled.

"You are by all means a visitor here. It's the least I could do." He nodded, before looking over towards the sketchpad. He frowned, just slightly. "Ah, aren't you going to show me the final product?..." He stood up, and looked over at the time. By now, he should technically just be starting to fold and lock some of the exhibits up. Oh well.

He looked at the other, straightened his tie and placed a hand on his waist. "I apologise if I seem to have upset you." He wasn't the only one who could read people to an extent.

"S-See it? Sure... If you want..." Matthew wasn't comfortable with showing people his sketches... Especially if he'd just drawn them. Because he'd lose his nerve and think that there's no way they'd like it! But... If that was what Arthur wanted, Matthew couldn't stop him... He pulled his sketch book out again and opened it to the page he'd been working, removing the newspaper.

"Eh... Tada..." He said, staring at his feet, flushing nervously. His hands clenched into fists and his breathing sped up somewhat. This was what happened when he was nervous. "A-Ah, upset? No, you didn't, I just thought you wouldn't appreciate seeing... something... you didn't want," He finished lamely.

(( Late post is late... D: ))

Arthur looked over at it for a moment, his finger rubbing along his chin in thought. After a moment, he smiled.

"Ah, there's an improvement. You draw incredibly well. That's extremely good." He nodded in agreement. "And it's not that I didn't want to see it, I'm just not used to people asking me if they can draw me. That's really what the exhibits are, if anything." He motioned towards them. "If people wanted to take pictures of me or such I might as well enroll in a modelling company or dress up and stick myself in one of the exhibits myself. Though I do dress up for the recreations that go on..." He remarked, more to himself than to the other.

(It's okay, mine's short too D:)

Matthew brightened. "That sounds fabulous to watch! I should see one some time and do quick sketches of scenes!" He suggested happily. Not that he'd let the other have a say in it, of course... And it'd help him learn how to sketch faster, which was good. "What sort of things do you do? Any specific time periods?" He asked curiously, edging towards Arthur in excitement. "It must be fascinating, working here! You get to see all this amazing stuff, I love museums!" Ok. Weird museum-fanboy moment over...

"Also, what do you even do when you aren't at the museum?" He was curious to know...

"The most famous are a lot of battles from the revolution... no guesses to as what I do..." Arthur rolled his eyes, before blinked at the question. Wasn't that.. a bit... personal? He shifted uncomfortably.

"I live. Not much to it," he shrugged, before laughing a little awkwardly, "Sorry, I don't appear to have much of a life."

He didn't really want to tell the other. He'd only really just met the man.