The Artist and the Doc [Gabriel and Ian]

Mineral Town was certainly an interesting place. Sometimes Gabriel found himself glad he moved here and other times he thought it was the worst decision of his life. The town only had the basics, when before he had access to everything. He sighed as he wandered town and ventured inside a church. It was quiet, since it was thursday and no one was there. The building had an uncanny resemblance to the church that was connected to the hospital he used to work at. Often family of patients on the verge of death would come there and a few times one caught his eye. The place seemed oddly brighter though, probably because more good news than bad happened here. It's what they call the gut instinct anyways.

Ian walked in with his hands shoved inside his cargo pockets. His long orange hair was pulled into a tiny ponytail at the back of his head and a long white apron splattered with pant covered mostly the front of his body. This was a beautiful little place, filled with stain glass made by that knows whom. His need to paint had brought him to Mineral Town that day, but what had brought him into the church, maybe just curiosity. "Hey." Ian said noticing a man sitting in one of the pews. Other than that man and himself, the place was pretty much vagent.

The floor seemed to creak when someone entered the door, but Gabriel didn't turn around untill he heard someone say 'hey.' Like him the guy's hair was tied back, but his was a bright orange while his was a dark brown. Then man wore an apron splattered with paint. In otherwords he was an artist who ventured her out of his artist intuition or something like that. "Hello," he nodded turning his attention towards the man who came in.

"Didn't think anybody else would be here." Ian sighed. He wasn't disapointed, but it came out sounding that way. "So, what brings you to this place?" he asked. He normally wouldn't bother to make conversation with males, but there seemed to be nothing better to do at the moment. If the man with the messy hair didn't want to talk, Ian wouldn't make him.

From the sigh and the man saying 'so' before he spoke the second time mad Gabriel think the male was bored. Who could blame him though, he was half bored himself. Besides Gabe didn't meet males all too often, so some idle chat wouldn't do no harm. "Boredom," he said plainly while streaching. He got up from his seat and yawn lazily. "No work today, so I'm just wandering around aimlessly. You?"

Ian nodded. "Just wondering around myself." He replied. "I was painting earlier--as you can see, but then I got painter's block, so I can't finish it." Ian placed some orange hair back into its place and then continued on. "hm, so then what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a diagnostician," he replied, his attention fully on the man. Like him the man had a ponytail, or as some people refered to a wolftail. He was definatly a painter too, since glops of paint were splattered all over his clothing. Countless books he had read in college suggested that painters were wanderers chasing their art and stopping for awhile to look for the inspiration they had lost, it must have applied to this man for him to be here in Gabriel's opinion. "I examine people and tell them what their problems are," he admitted.

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Anyone can examine people and tell then what their problem is." He could look at this guy and from what he saw, he appeared to be a workaholic doctor who never had time for a haircut. But he really had no right to judge the man's hair. Ian never had time to get his cut, either.

"True," Gabriel lightly chuckled. "At least I don't get glares for it and get paid for it, unlike most people." He often did get away with some comments because he was a doctor and by the time he found out what exactly was wrong with the patient they'd forget all about him teasing them. He did have a purpose for teasing some people, it was the only way to get the truth out of some of them. When you are getting examined the most important thing is letting out the truth, otherwise the conciquences might be fatal. "What brings you to this part of town?"

"Boardem." He replied. "Pure boardem." Ian shoved his hands in his jean pockets and leaned up agenst a pew. "What brings you here? You'd think a doctor such as yourself couldn't afford to take a day off. And to all the places you could go, why here?" Ian normally wasn't this curious, he still wasn't. He was just asking for the sake of asking. He could honestly care less.

Gabriel pulled out a small notebook out of his pocket. "I was looking for a quiet place outside of the office to read," he stated. He could have gone to the library, but he didn't want to run into a girl that would tease him about his hair as he read his notes over. "It's not Sunday, so I came here," he added. Since no one had a good reason to be here today of all days he took the opprotunity to hide at the church to think with no distractions. It was to his surprise that the man would come here of all places, but he was an artist and they were unpredictable. Once he had a patient that tried to imitate Van Gogh when he worked in the ER. Luckly he saved the ear and the man realized how stupid his decision was. "I'm Gabriel," he said. "Gabriel Cunningham."

"Ian Kensington." Ian replied. "I live down in Waffle island. Nice to meet you, Doc." Was it really that nice? Well, this guy seemed to have it all together. He seemed alright. "Where do you work at, Mineral town?" Ian racked his brain. He had thought he passed a clinic in Mineral town once, but he couldn't quite remember which one or what it was called.